Bride behind the mask novel (Marguerite) novel Chapter 711

Marguerite jerked her hand away, "Do you even have a say in my life? Go live happily with your Daphne and stop bothering me, will you?"

No sooner had Marguerite spoken than she regretted it.

Maurice had kept his secrets so well hidden that, in his eyes, she and Daphne were like two parallel lines, never meant to cross.

Mentioning Daphne now felt a bit too impulsive.

Sure enough, Maurice's gaze faltered, his expression briefly clouded: "Has she been bothering you?"

"What if she has?"

"What did she tell you?"

Maurice's tone was inscrutable, and with his knack for pretense, his face betrayed no sign of panic or guilt.

Yet, this only served to infuriate Marguerite even more.

She knew everything already, yet here she was, playing along in his charade.

The feeling was unbearable.

She was on the verge of spilling everything, consequences be damned.

But she knew better than to rush things.

She had only gotten hold of Maurice's vasectomy report, the crucial paternity test results were still pending. She had to endure.

"What could she possibly tell me? To stay away from you? Maurice, I don't care about your flings, but could you at least keep your women in line?

Today it's Daphne, who's it going to be tomorrow? Emily? Sarah? I'm tired, I don't have the energy for this."

With that, Marguerite brushed off her sleeve, feigning anger and stormed away.

Teresa lay on the other side, one knee bent, the other leg lazily draped over it, gazing at the ceiling as if pondering life's mysteries, a lollipop in her mouth.

Suddenly, she turned to Marguerite, "Mommy, are you really not going to look for my brother anymore?"

The question stirred a mix of emotions in Marguerite, "I didn't say that, sweetie. Just not for now."

"Why not? Did something happen recently, Mommy?"

"Nothing happened. You little chatterbox, why all the questions? Come on, time to sleep. Look at how well-behaved Hayes is! And no more lollipops, you'll get cavities."

Marguerite dodged the question with a lie, while softly patting Hayes' head.

Flushed with shyness from the praise, Hayes' cherubic face turned a deeper shade of red. Gathering his courage, he whispered:

"Ms. Marguerite, until you find Teresa's brother... could you... think of me as your son?"