Bride Behind The Mask

Chapter 582

Yuna strutted confidently into the office, her Jimmy Choo heels glinting under the fluorescent lights. The

black cocktail dress she wore clung to her curves, hemmed just above the knees, showcasing her long,

porcelain legs. Her brown faux fur coat she had draped over her shoulders-its hairs standing on end

from static, yet doing nothing to diminish her regal and captivating presence.

Miley couldn’t help but gawk at Yuna’s bare legs and then at the exaggerated fur coat, barely stifling a

chuckle. She leaned close to Marguerite’s ear and whispered with a mischievous grin, “Marguerite, she

looks like an ostrich.”

Marguerite could only offer a blank stare in response.

Yuna, misinterpreting Marguerite’s speechless reaction for envy, reveled in her own self-assumed

superiority. After all, she was decked out in designer gear and jewelry worth a king’s ransom-a status

she had cunningly stolen by usurping Marguerite’s place in the prestigious Fitzgerald family.

Yuna’s smug thoughts lifted her chin higher as she sneered at Marguerite, “Well, Marguerite, still

slumming it at work, I see? Freddie must be fuming after you hit my son. Let me tell you, dear, your

days of comfort are over! Not even Maurice can save you now.”

“Today marks the thirtieth anniversary of my real parents’ wedding, and we’ll be celebrating at

Stonebridge City’s most exclusive restaurant. Oh, by the way, has mom reached out to you since she

got back? Of course not! Why would she spare you a glance when she has me, the true Fitzgerald

heiress? The only reason she ever cared about you is that you look just like me! So you should be

thanking me, after all, it’s because of your face that you managed to ride my coattails.”

Marguerite remained silent, unwilling to give Yuna the satisfying reaction she wanted.

Seeing this, Miley turned to Marguerite and asked pointedly, “Marguerite, who’s that chirping so loudly?

It’s quite the racket!” Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Marguerite, cool and detached, replied, “No one’s talking; you must be hearing things.”

Miley feigned a sudden realization, playfully acting as if cleaning out her ears, “Oh, then I must have

been mistaken.”

Yuna, overhearing their exchange, felt her blood boil with rage.

With a haughty flip of her hair and hands on her hips, she stood in front of them, “Marguerite, I’m

warning you, you’re nothing compared to me! I am the exalted Fitzgerald heiress, and you? You’re just

a nobody from some backwater town! The whole world knows about your sordid past, how you slept

your way to the top! Did you know why your parents pushed you into Hanley’s bed? Because you

exude filth! And yet, you’ve somehow seduced Maurice and bearing him twins!”

“But fate has its way of dealing with those like you. How could someone of your ilk ever truly become a

phoenix? Not even God can stand you, hence why he took your son!”

Yuna’s tirade, filled with the vilest of words, still failed to bring her the satisfaction she craved. She was

adorned in gold, held in high regard, and worshipped in the company-how could Marguerite treat her as

if she were invisible? It was infuriating!

Marguerite’s hands, hanging by her sides, clenched into fists. Yuna could insult her all she wanted, but

bringing her children into it crossed a line.

Just as Marguerite was about to retaliate, Miley stepped in. In one swift move, she grabbed Yuna by

the throat and pinned her against the cold steel of the elevator doors.