Chapter 387
Bride Behind The Mask
At the same time, in the heart of Emerald Meadows. The minute the car came to a stop in the driveway, Teresa had sprung out, bolting towards the house in eager anticipation.
Marguerite, sitting in the front, had unbuckled her seatbelt and was about to step out when she felt Mauriceâs hand grip her wrist. âWait.â
Marguerite swiftly pulled her hand back. âWhat is it?â
The cold indifference in her eyes irritated Maurice. Frustrated, he looked out the car window before asking, âYou knew we were going to meet Frederick today, didnât you?â
Why else would she have been so adamant about him not tagging along?
Marguerite looked at him, visibly puzzled, âAre you out of your mind?â
Ignoring her question, Maurice turned to face her. âWhat about our marriage? Have you decided yet?â
Marguerite froze, taken aback. Without a doubt, she should have flat-out refused. But for some weird reason, she couldnât find the right words to respond.
Because once again, she saw the deep affection in Mauriceâs eyes.
Could it be? Was he really in love with her? Was he serious? Flashes of the past kept flooding Margueriteâs mind.
She remembered the countless nights he had stayed by her side when she was suffering from morning sickness.
When Teresa was born and she was breast-feeding the little one in bed, Maurice was always there, watching from a distance with a calm demeanor, his face expressing pure joy.
Suddenly, her mind was a jumbled mess of woolen threads.
She had never thought that Maurice had ever loved her, but the evidence of his affection was becoming more and more apparent.
But little did Maurice know, the clearer his feelings became, the more fearful Marguerite felt.
Maurice was too cold, too calculating. He could ruthlessly persecute Frederick, and just for this reason alone, she could never marry him!
âMaurice, is there nothing else you can talk about other than marriage?â
He just stared at her, his large hand suddenly caressing her cheek, gently brushing her soft skin.
Marguerite recoiled, feeling a shiver run down her spine.
âMarguerite, youâre smart. Donât play dumb with me. You know Iâve fallen for you. It started three years ago.â
Margueriteâs heart skipped a beat, her brain almost deprived of oxygen. She couldnât believe that these words could ever come out of Mauriceâs mouth. He had openly confessed his love, leaving Marguerite feeling both cruel and helpless.
Maurice was right. From now on, she wouldnât even have the privilege to play dumb.
1 admit, I was jealous today. I didnât like the way you and Frederick looked at each other, and I especially disliked how you were fond of his son.â, Marguerite felt her scalp tingle. The confined space of the car was stifling. She feared Maurice would say something disgusting again.
She brushed Mauriceâs arm away and said with a scornful tone, âWhat, werenât you the one who was so keen on arranging this meeting with Frederick? Now that itâs happened, youâre not happy with it.
Donât be so melodramatic. It only makes me despise you more. And remember, I donât love you!
Thereâs no way I could ever love you! Donât you even think about our marriage!â
With that, Marguerite opened the car door and walked away, and all Maurice could see was a view of her cold, proud back.