Substitutee Marriage: Fallingg For My Ugly Wifee

Spectators might have assumed that Bruce had elected to escort a canine companion, yet their perception shifted as a lady came into view.

The woman in question was none other than Mavis, her wrists ensnared by the rope that Bruce gripped like one might hold a puppy’s leash.

She simmered with frustration.

Seated in the front passenger seat, Mavis found herself in a predicament as Bruce exited from the driver’s seat while still holding the rope. Consequently, she was left with no choice but to crawl across to the driver’s seat before finally making her way out of the vehicle.

Through gritted teeth, she seethed, “Bruce, I’ll end you.”

Bruce wound the rope around his wrist a few times more, shortening its length.

“Fine, but you’d better be quicker next time. Now, come with me.”

Enraged, Mavis was once again hauled along, compelled against her will to follow Bruce into the bar.

How had she come to this juncture?

Upon parting ways with the Smith family, she had sworn to vindicate her innocence to Harlan.

Given the employment allegiance of those individuals to Bruce, Mavis harbored an unswerving resolve, to locate him and bring him before Harlan. Her aim was to extract from Bruce an admission that she had refrained from revealing anything about Marcus’s injury.

However, reality consistently defied her intentions. Acquiring information that Bruce was holed up in a clandestine woodland hideout had demanded a significant investment of time and effort.

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Furthermore, she had uncovered Bruce’s quest to find a group of maids, a circumstance she exploited to infiltrate his base covertly.

Once within the confines of the base, she gathered intelligence suggesting that Bruce had sustained injuries and was in the process of recuperating-an auspicious development from her perspective. While attending to her duties, specifically cleaning his bedroom, she discreetly concealed a dagger on her person.

At the given moment, Bruce lay supine on the bed, eyes shut.

Proceeding cautiously, she positioned the knife against his throat.

“Stay still.”

Bruce’s eyes flickered open. However, before she could take any action, a gunshot resounded, pinpointing her wrist with precision.

The knife slipped from her grasp. Overwhelmed by searing pain, her hand convulsed, and she found herself squatting in agony, teeth clenched.

Bruce gradually elevated himself, retrieving the dropped dagger and employing its tip to lift her chin.

“Let’s see who this fierce girl is. Daring to venture into my stronghold with an assassination attempt.”

Bruce and Mavis had crossed paths on a couple of occasions at social gatherings, but she hadn’t left a lasting impression.

Pondering for a moment, he pieced together her identity as Mavis, the daughter of the Smith family.

“Mavis Smith?”