Bride Behind The Mask

Chapter 557

Marguerite’s body tensed, a flicker of shock passing through her wide, watery eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a sharp stab of pain.

Frederick had set up a date to marry Yuna? He was actually doing it?

And to add salt to the wound, he planned to tie the knot on the same day as her? NôvelDrama.Org exclusive content.

Marguerite wasn’t sure if she should believe Maurice, but one thing was certain: his timing in delivering this news was a calculated move to even the score between them.

She held her ground, turning to face him, her crimson lips curling into a mocking smile.

“Well, isn’t that just peachy? A double celebration.”

Maurice’s face fell, a gloom enveloping him as he fought to mask his emotions.

Marguerite, on the other hand, spun on her heel and hobbled into a taxi, heading straight for Poppy Petal Fragrances.

Leaning back in the seat, she gazed out the window, lost in thought.

When she had jumped out of Maurice’s car earlier, she’d twisted her ankle. The piercing pain was a mere distraction compared to the heartache of her beloved marrying another woman.

This was a pain Marguerite had over and over again.

Ten minutes later, she limped into the director’s office at Poppy Petal Fragrances.

Miley was there, perched on Marguerite’s desk, apparently in the middle of a conversation with Frederick. Her expressions were as animated as ever, while Frederick raised an eyebrow, seemingly skeptical of whatever tale Miley was spinning.

Upon seeing Marguerite, Miley’s face contorted into an exaggerated concern. “Marguerite! What happened to you? Why are you limping?”

Before Marguerite could respond, Miley was at her side, fussing over her like a mother

Marguerite felt a twinge of annoyance mixed with embarrassment.

“You’re being dramatic,” Marguerite muttered.

Miley leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, “Because you will never say it yourself! I have to be dramatic or Frederick won’t even notice your injury.”

Despite herself, Marguerite had to admit that Miley knew her well.

Miley swiftly guided Marguerite to her chair and unexpectedly knelt to remove her snow boots, her hands fluttering with concern.

“Mr. Winston! Marguerite’s ankle is swollen!”

Swollen? Marguerite glanced down and indeed saw a bulge around her right ankle.

“I didn’t even notice,” she said calmly.

Frederick’s gaze followed, and with a hint of urgency, he asked, “What happened?”

His tone was a mix of concern and accusation, but it made Marguerite bristle defensively.

“I fell.”

“Weren’t you with Maurice? How did you manage to fall?”

“Is it not possible for me to fall while I’m with him?”

Marguerite’s retort left Frederick momentarily speechless, and Miley was beside herself.

Did these two have any sense of priorities? Now was not the time to argue about such trivialities.

Miley sighed, shaking her head as she stood. “I’ll go get the medic. Mr. Winston, please make sure Marguerite stays put and doesn’t walk around.”

Miley was back in less than five minutes with a bag full of medical supplies and a sheepish smile. “The medic wasn’t in, so I grabbed some ointment and a few ice packs. I doubt Marguerite can apply it herself in this state, right?”

Marguerite was baffled. Her foot was injured, not her hands. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. What was Miley playing at?

Frederick tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, watching the scene unfold in silence.

Soon, Miley stuffed all the medical supplies into Frederick’s arms, holding up her beautifully manicured hands in a self-explanatory gesture.

“Mr. Winston, look at these nails. I can’t possibly assist Marguerite. I might scratch her and cause more harm than good. Maybe she’ll even end up in the hospital! How about you lend her a hand?”