The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 420

Chapter 205-3

She unscrews the lids one by one, revealing three wildly different face masks. The first is a vibrant, neon–green clay that smells strongly of spinach and kelp. The second is a jet–black, thick charcoal paste that smells like peppermint and tea tree. The third is a soft, pastel–pink rose–clay cream laced with crushed botanical petals.

“The green is a deep–sea kelp detoxifier for renewal,” Willow explains, pointing to the bright green jar. “The charcoal is an obsidian shadow–cleanser for drawing out negativity. And the rose–clay is a gentle heart–chakra soothe.”

Jade leans over, sniffing the black charcoal mask. “Alright, fine. I’ll take the charcoal. Charcoal tightens pores, and after the week I’ve had, my pores need a miracle.”

“I’ll take the rose–clay,” I say, eyeing the neon–green paste with healthy suspicion. “It looks the least likely to turn my skin permanent green.”

Willow beams, scooping up a giant blob of the neon–green kelp clay. “Wonderful! I shall take the kelp. It aligns perfectly with my aquatic energy.”

For the next ten minutes, the coffee table turns into an absolute war zone of mirrors, wooden spatulas, and wet towels. Jade applies the charcoal mask with deadly accuracy, framing her face like a sleek, dark warrior. I smooth the soft pink rose–clay over my cheeks and forehead, feeling an immediate, cooling sensation that soothes my tired skin.

Willow, however, paints her face entirely in the vivid, swamp–monster–green clay, slathering it on thick until only her dark eyes and pink lips are visible.

We sit back on our cushions, our faces completely covered in wildly contrasting colors: Jade in matte black, me in soft pink, and Willow looking like a mystical forest creature.

“We look like an off–brand superhero team,” Jade mutters, checking her reflection in her phone camera. “The Charcoal Crusader, Pink Velvet, and the Swamp Angel.”

“It’s beautiful,” Willow says, entirely unbothered, patting a stray blob of green clay onto her nose. “Our skin is absorbing the earth’s natural frequency.”

At that exact moment, Xena rouses from her deep sleep under the dining table.

The puppy stretches her tiny legs, lets out a long, high–pitched yawn, and trots casually into the living room, looking for more food or another shoe to chew. She rounds the corner of the coffee table, stops dead in her tracks, and looks up.

She stares at Jade’s jet–black face. Then she shifts her eyes to my pink cheeks. Finally, her

She lets out a sharp, squeaky, terrified BOOF!, a noise so loud and absurd it shakes her entire seven–pound frame. She scrambles backward on the hardwood, her paws slipping out from under her like a cartoon character, before diving headfirst under the sofa, trembling violently while letting out tiny, pathetic whimpers.

“Willow, stop,” I wheeze, clutching my aching stomach as I watch a bright green woman crawl under a sofa after a traumatized German Shepherd puppy. “You’re making it worse. You look like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Come out, you little coward,” Jade says, sliding off her cushion to join the rescue mission, her jet–black face suddenly appearing right next to Willow’s green one beneath the couch skirt. “Warrior princess, my ass.”

From inside the dark crevice beneath the sofa, Xena lets out another high–pitched, desperate squeak, convinced her hour has come.

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