The Invisible Wife Turned Savage novel Chapter 233

**TITLE: Arrived 233**
**Chapter 233: Madam Rosemary’s Misunderstanding**

“Mr. Quinn! What a delightful surprise! Since fate has brought us together, how about we share a drink?” Chris exclaimed, his voice brimming with warmth and enthusiasm.

In that moment, Chris felt an undeniable stroke of luck in encountering Quinn. Little did he know, this meeting was meticulously orchestrated by Quinn, who had been seeking him out with a specific purpose in mind.

Quinn had already received Jonathan’s directive: any project that the Hartwell Group had its sights set on must be claimed by the Bennett Group first. With this clear instruction echoing in his mind, Quinn had made it a priority to connect with Chris well before any official bidding commenced.

To the untrained eye, the bidding process appeared to be a level playing field, a fair contest among rivals. However, the reality was far more insidious; most firms had long established their preferred partners even before the bidding commenced. The act of bidding itself was merely a formality, a ritual performed to maintain the façade of competition.

Meanwhile, Isabelle stood frozen, her eyes locked onto Chris and Quinn as they walked away, side by side. A surge of fury coursed through her veins, and with a swift kick, she struck her car’s tire in frustration.

In that moment of rage, a folded envelope slipped from beneath the windshield wiper and tumbled to the ground.

With trembling hands, she bent down to retrieve it, her heart racing as she tore it open. The contents sent a chill down her spine—it was a threat letter.

Her heart raced wildly, a primal fear gripping her. The sensation of being followed loomed over her like a dark cloud. Without a moment’s hesitation, she dialed her driver, urgency lacing her voice as she instructed him to bring a different car to pick her up immediately.

Meanwhile, Madam Rosemary had finally emerged from her retreat, feeling a sense of satisfaction after her “practice.” She was ready to return to the city, her mind buzzing with thoughts of reconnecting with Jonathan.

Reaching for her phone, she intended to invite him out for dinner. However, Jonathan, caught up in a whirlwind of meetings, had only time to send her a quick text. “Someone’s at my place. Just knock when you arrive.”

Madam Rosemary’s brow furrowed at the cryptic message. “Someone? Who could it be? A friend?” she wondered aloud, a hint of curiosity piquing her interest.

Jonathan, rushing to his next meeting, replied with a casual, “Yes, he’s staying with me. If you’re hungry, let him whip something up. He’s got nothing better to do.”

The words hung in the air, and Madam Rosemary’s heart skipped a beat. For a brief moment, she was overtaken by the unsettling thought that Jonathan might be referring to his girlfriend.

A surge of protectiveness welled up within her. She felt compelled to see for herself. If this woman turned out to be unsuitable, she would gently steer Jonathan towards Wendy—after all, Wendy and Jonathan seemed far more compatible.

As she arrived at Jonathan’s building, a sudden realization struck her: he lived right next door to Estella.

“What a peculiar coincidence,” she mused, a flicker of intrigue dancing in her mind. “I can visit her afterward too.”

With a determined ring of the doorbell, she waited, her heart thumping in anticipation. The door swung open, revealing Harry, clad in an apron and wielding a spatula like a culinary warrior.

He recognized her immediately; Jonathan had shared family photos with him before.

“Grandma! What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in!” Harry greeted her with genuine enthusiasm, his smile wide and welcoming.

At that moment, Estella returned home from work, her eyes widening in concern as she spotted the elderly lady sitting there, lost in thought. She hurried over, her voice laced with worry. “Grandma, are you alright?”

Madam Rosemary dabbed at her eyes, her voice quivering as she replied, “I just went to see my grandson. He’s living with another man.”

Understanding dawned on Estella, and she regarded the old woman with sympathy.

She could hardly blame her; grappling with such a revelation at her age was no small feat. Yet, Estella thought to herself that Jonathan’s “grandson” was making the right choice. It was far better than leading some poor girl into a sham of a marriage.

Gently, she placed a comforting hand on Madam Rosemary’s shoulder. “It’s chilly out here. Let me take you to a café where you can warm up.”

Madam Rosemary, feeling the kindness radiating from Estella, didn’t resist. She followed her, pouring out her shock and grief with every step they took.

Estella listened quietly, offering soft replies here and there, allowing the older woman to vent her feelings.

Regardless of age, women needed to express their emotions. Bottling them up only led to deeper sorrow.

By the time Madam Rosemary had finished her tale, a lightness had begun to seep back into her spirit. She managed a wan smile at Estella. “That boy nearly drove me to my grave. I prayed for him in that godforsaken place, hoping to set him straight—and yet, he remains unchanged. Those churches in Javerton are useless. I’ll return to Kingston. The churches there will guide him back to the right path!”