The Villainess Redeems Herself, The Beast Husbands are in a Daily Love Battle Chapter 139: Can’t Even Dream of Her

The weight in the hand felt heavy, not like a re piece of paper, but like a formal contract.

It wasn’t just a thin sheet but ca inside a velvet gift box.

Layer upon layer, accompanied by a faint sandalwood scent as it opened.

Inside the box, there was not only a gilt-edged invitation but also accompanying gifts.

A finely carved beast-shaped jade pendant, a pair of handcrafted silver hairpins, and even a brooch embedded with gemstones.

Just the dazzling decorations and exquisite craftsmanship alone could allow an ordinary Beastman to live frugally for half a year.

Not to ntion the content of the invitation enclosed.

It was an invitation to a banquet from a high-ranking family of the alliance.

Selene Kane’s hand holding the invitation slightly trembled, her heart surged with excitent.

Could it be... that her entrepreneurial journey was officially beginning?

Recalling the past few months of being carefree, it felt too comfortable.

There was soone to serve tea, soone to offer warmth, with everything done for her, she nearly forgot she was a woman with ambitions reaching for the sky.

"Is the dress I’m supposed to wear today ready?"

She stood outside the master bedroom door, her tone light and easy.

Since the day of her marriage, her clothes were either high-end custom designs paid for by them, crafted by the most famous tailor in the city, with luxurious materials and precise tailoring.

Or they were handmade by Heath Langdon himself.

And now, she increasingly favored the latter.

Not to save money, nor to be unconventional, but because he truly understood her.

Whatever she said, he listened intently.

Even if she casually comnted, "I think the waistline should be higher, it’ll make my legs look longer," he would rember it and revise the design repeatedly.

The design was modified again and again.

Until she nodded and said, "Alright, like this," he would finally breathe a sigh of relief and put down his pen.

He would observe her posture, the way she walked, and even the angle of the dress hem swaying when she turned.

Selene Kane entrusted her entire wardrobe to him without a second thought.

Heath Langdon was now kept confined in a room, supposedly grounded, not allowed to go out or freely et guests.

Officially, it was because he got into so trouble recently and needed to reflect behind closed doors.

But in reality, he was not idle, constantly tinkering with little designs and crafts.

The last ti he made her a set of star-thed jewelry, it wowed everyone at the banquet.

After returning, she happened to ntion casually.

"It would be nice to have a matching evening gown."

Coincidentally, he had plenty of ti these days and limited mobility, so he just buried himself in work.

He selected the fabric himself, a layer of moonlit silk thin as a cicada’s wings, with a layer of shimring gauze on the outside.

The embroidery was sewn by him, stitch by stitch.

The pattern was intertwined vines and stars, subtly reflecting the moon in her na.

At this mont, Heath Langdon was sitting at the table, a soft tape asure draped over his shoulders, with his head lowered.

His back was slightly hunched, long hours hunching over had deford his spine, his shoulders noticeably thin.

There were faint dark circles under his eyes, evidence of several sleepless nights.

The room was quiet, with only the subtle sound of needle threading through fabric.

"It’s done."

He finally put down the needle and thread and softly spoke the three words.

He swallowed, his throat sowhat parched.

"Female Master, would you like to co and try it on?"

"I’m not trying to bother you, just worried about the fit."

He paused, unconsciously rubbing the edge of the table with his fingers, his tone earnest.

"If you try it on yourself, you can see where it doesn’t fit or where it pinches, and we can and it in ti. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable wearing it."

"It won’t take too much..."

Heath Langdon spoke softly, his tone cautious, probing gently.

He stopped mid-sentence, as if sothing was stuck in his throat.

His voice suddenly choked, with a hint of a sob.

Selene Kane avoided eye contact, her gaze swiftly passing over his face and quickly shifting away.

The distance between them was evident, yet she didn’t wish to make it too explicit.

She casually replied, "I’m not going."

After a pause, her brow furrowed slightly, finally looking him in the face, her tone slightly softened.

"Why do you look so bad? Dark circles under your eyes, did you not sleep well again last night?"

She instinctively took half a step forward, as if intending to support him, but awkwardly pulled back.

"Rest early. Don’t forget to spray the perfu."

As soon as she finished speaking, the screen went black, and she vanished.

Heath Langdon suddenly raised his hand, his fingers trembling as he swept the array of tools on the table to the floor.

Scissors, rulers, needles, color swatches...

A clatter ensued.

The tallic sounds striking the floor were particularly jarring.

But he heard nothing else, only his own dull pain echoing in his chest.

A head peeked out from the door crack - it was Ethan Sinclair.

His ears were perked up alertly, his golden eyes slightly narrowed.

It was the first ti he’d seen Heath in such a losing control state.

"Heath..."

He called softly, his tone timid.

"The Female Master asked to pick up the dress."

"It’s on the mannequin."

Heath Langdon turned his back to the door, his voice low and hoarse.

Being from the Cat Clan, even the ssiest room didn’t hinder Ethan’s agility.

His tail swayed gently, slipping through the narrow door crack as light as a breeze.

He approached the mannequin, his eyes imdiately lit up.

"Wow, this is incredible!"

He couldn’t help but gasp, taking two steps back and then leaning in again.

"Heath, your craftsmanship is unrivaled! It’s a masterpiece of divine-level recreation with original design."

He circled the mannequin halfway, full of amazent.

"And... the design seems to have more emotion this ti. The lines flow better, and the vibe fits the Female Master’s style more."

He reached out to touch it, his fingertips just brushing the dress hem.

The fabric actually shimred like a galaxy, glimring with tiny light specks.

Startled, he withdrew his hand quickly, his furry ears pressed back.

"Oh my god, this material is too sensitive! Forget it, my paws are too rough, it’d be a sha if I scratched it."

"I’ll get a pair of gloves."

He said, about to turn around and leave.

Heath Langdon silently handed him a pair of pre-prepared white gloves.

Cotton, soft, with an added layer of anti-slip velvet inside the fingertips.

He originally intended to wear these gloves himself, to personally help her put on the dress.

If that dress draped over her, she would look like a fairy stepping out of a painting.

She would be breathtakingly beautiful.

And he could only hide in the shadows, stealing glimpses.

He would be especially careful, not letting her see his imperfections.

Wouldn’t let her see the connection of his left arm’s missing part, wouldn’t let her know each ti he got close, his wrist control module slightly quivered.

But why?

His hand fell, the gloves still clenched in his palm, his fingertips cold.

She could endure Evan and Ethan’s bickering, could overlook Caleb Shaw’s ever-unfazed cold face.

But towards him, she avoided like the plague.

Even if he did nothing, and just quietly sat opposite her eating, she would find an excuse to get up and leave.

He only wanted to be a little closer to her.

Not expecting a response, not asking for reciprocation, just...

To sit beside her, to hear her say a word.

Recently, he couldn’t even see her in his dreams.