Bride Behind The Mask Novel

Chapter 451

Marguerite sat on the edge of her bed, a bemused frown creasing her forehead. What on earth was she supposed to do now?

She couldn’t very well have Yuna come here and take them away. She could already picture it–the accusatory glares, the air thick with the scent of scandal, Yuna summoning the whole household as if she’d caught Marguerite red–handed in some illicit affair.

Then Yuna would undoubtedly play the victim, wailing about the betrayal and how Marguerite had committed the ultimate treachery.

If that happened, Marguerite won’t have peace anymore.

With a resigned sigh, Marguerite scooped Hayes up onto the bed, relenting, “If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll be in the next room over.”

The apartment was a two–bedroom suite, so with Frederick Winston deciding to camp out for the night, Marguerite had no choice but to move to the adjacent room.

Hayes curled into a little ball near the headboard, reaching out with chubby arms, his voice a soft plea, “Daddy… I’m scared…”

Frederick’s brow furrowed, pain sharpening his features. Breathing heavily, he tried to muster a gentle tone, “Boy, can you sleep by yourself tonight?”

Hayes‘ bottom lip quivered, “But… I’m scared…”

sight of his son. The little guy just wanted the comfort of being held–no kid should have to be brave after facing the threats and fears they had

Frederick was already considering getting Robert

own body betrayed him; even the slightest movement was

turned those hopeful, watery eyes to Marguerite and implored

bring herself to say no to that face. She embraced Hayes

stay… with

but also wanted Marguerite’s embrace. Were they

was getting

Chapter 451

we do that, Auntie will end up sharing the bed with your dad. And

critical situation. Let Hayes sleep in the middle,” Frederick

mind reeled. Was Frederick serious? She felt a tension coil within her as she glanced between the man, writhing in silent agony, and the little boy, shivering from trauma in her

her life, Marguerite felt truly

someone extricate her from this

through too much, and despite her

against the headboard, his face a mask of impatience and pain, cut through her indecision, “Let’s not waste any more time. If we don’t sleep now, it’ll be morning.