The Wife He Forgot to Marry (Winona and Yule) novel Chapter 567

Once Margaret stepped away to greet the next wave of guests, Ophelia stalked over to Giselle.

Giselle flashed a blindingly fake smile. "Ophelia, it's so wonderful to finally meet properly. You're stunning."

She extended a hand, but Ophelia didn't take it. Instead, she let out a cold, derisive scoff. "Follow me. We need to talk."

Giselle dropped her hand and followed Ophelia into a private lounge.

The moment the door clicked shut, Ophelia whirled around, her composure snapping. "What the hell are you doing in the capital? I told you to convince my mother to move abroad! And I know you've been maxing out her credit cards. You're just a replacement. Who gave you the right to burn through our money?"

Giselle couldn't help but laugh. Yes, she was a fake, but Ophelia was just an adopted charity case. She was in no position to act superior.

"Wynne gave me the cards and told me to spend whatever I wanted. I didn't beg for them. And she's the one who insisted on bringing me to the capital. I tried to talk her into leaving the country, but she refused. My hands are tied."

Ophelia sneered, recognizing the blatant lies. "Are you really not afraid I'll expose you and throw you back to the gutter?"

Giselle had already calculated the leverage perfectly. She smirked. "Do it. Expose me. But the second you do, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly who orchestrated this entire scam. You think getting rid of me secures your spot? If I burn, I'm taking you with me."

Giselle stepped closer, her eyes flashing with malice. "Ophelia, we both want the exact same thing—to lock down our status and drown in money. So we're going to play nice and cooperate. If you try to cross me, I guarantee we'll both end up with nothing."

Ophelia realized with a sinking dread that she had grossly underestimated Giselle's ambition. She wasn't a pliable pawn; she was a predator.

Seeing Ophelia rendered speechless, Giselle twisted the knife. "Oh, and I'm very interested in Stefan. But don't worry, I'm a generous person. I'm willing to play fair. May the best woman win."

Ophelia glared at her with pure, unadulterated hatred. She had brought Giselle in to eliminate Winona, only to invite a much more dangerous threat right through the front door.

Realizing she was losing control of the situation, Ophelia pulled out her phone and frantically texted her sister for backup.

The reply came a moment later: *My project here wraps up in a month. When I get back, I'll handle Giselle for you. Just be patient.*

Stefan's expression was carved from ice. "It's late, Ophelia. Go home."

A desperate spark of hope lit up Ophelia's eyes. "You still care about my well-being, don't you?"

Stefan stared at her, genuinely baffled by her delusion. It seemed that offering her even a single syllable fueled her psychotic fantasies. He didn't waste another breath on her, tightening his grip on Winona's hand and walking right past her.

The next morning, Stefan and Winona boarded his private jet back to Riverton.

Once they were in the air, Winona pulled a small velvet box from her bag and snapped it open. Inside rested a vintage gold medal.

"What is that?" Stefan asked.

"Mr. Powell told me to ask for a prize for winning the race," she explained with a bright smile. "I love tennis, and he actually won the national championship back in the day. I used to watch reruns of his matches and thought he was incredible. So, I asked him for one of his old medals. It feels incredibly special."