Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 430

As Yuna left the staircase, Marguerite lovingly turned to Teresa, who barely reached her thigh in height, and lifted her up with a beaming smile.

“Sweetie, look at you, defending your mom like a brave little soldier!”

Teresa beamed even wider at the praise.

“Of course! Because I’m your little helper! I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you!”

With that, Teresa tenderly held up Marguerite’s face and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek.

They continued their happy conversation as they descended the stairs. But as they reached the main floor, a sudden shriek echoed from the kitchen. “Ouch! Who left oil all over the kitchen floor last night? I fell when I walked in!”

At Yuna’s cry, servants rushed to her aid. Yuna promptly pushed them away, “Back off, all of you! You’re ruining the crime scene!”

Upon hearing this, the servants hastily retreated, leaving the kitchen in a chaotic state.

Marguerite didn’t want to get involved in Yuna’s theatrics and headed for the door with Teresa in her arms.

With Yuna in this state, breakfast was definitely off the table. But Marguerite couldn’t let Teresa go hungry; she needed to take her out for breakfast first.

Just then, Yuna turned her fury on Marguerite, shrieking at her retreating figure, “Marguerite, stop right there! You and your daughter had a midnight snack last night, didn’t you? Was it you who spilled the

oil?”

Marguerite was speechless at her accuse. She wasn’t the one who cooked last night, and Yuna should be blaming Frederick for the oil!

Marguerite turned around, her tone flat, “Yes, we did have midnight snack, but the kitchen…”

“Did you hear that? She admitted to eating the midnight snack!”

Yuna cut off Marguerite, then wailed, “Marguerite, how could you?! You knew I was going to prepare breakfast this morning, so you spilled oil in the kitchen to make me fall, didn’t you? What did I ever do to you, Marguerite, for you to treat me this way?”

لھ

Yuna’s voice echoed throughout the house, painting Marguerite as a wicked, vindictive woman.

She knew very well that Marguerite’s status in the Winston family was due to her daughter. Mr. Powell’s fondness for Teresa was the only reason Marguerite was tolerated. But Yuna intended to ruin Marguerite’s reputation within the household and make her life a misery.

At Yuna’s outburst, several of the servants began to whisper among themselves.

“Could it be true that Ms. Marguerite spilled the oil? She seems so refined, wouldn’t stoop to such a level, would she?”

“You’re new here, so you wouldn’t know that Ms. Marguerite and Mr. Frederick had a fling before! She probably resents Ms. Yuna!”

“Really? That’s a complex!”

“You bet! Once you’re in a wealthy household, even the most noble women can turn ruthless!”

The servants’ gossip fueled Yuna’s drama, and she continued to weep and wail, “My life is so wretched! It’s hard enough living under someone else’s roof, but to be harmed as well! Why is my life so difficult, gosh.”

With Yuna’s hysterics, the servants were at a loss.

They wanted to comfort her, but Yuna wouldn’t let them near the ‘crime scene’. And if they didn’t do something, they risked disturbing the owners of the house, which would make things even worse.

In the midst of the commotion, Maurice was the first to be drawn by the noise.

He hurried downstairs and went straight to Marguerite, “What is she making a fuss about now?” This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“What else? Just trying to stir up trouble.”

Maurice frowned, his eyes filled with annoyance. The next moment, he strode into the kitchen, barking, “Why are you lying around on the floor? Get up!”

Yuna’s wails ceased instantly. She probably hadn’t expected Maurice to intervene.

Even though Marguerite and he never truly shared a marital bond, Maurice would always stand up for her when necessary.

Yuna paused, whimpering, “Maurice, your wife deliberately spilled oil on the floor last night to make me slip. Aren’t you going to do something about it?”

Before Yuna could finish, a more authoritative voice echoed through the room, “This has nothing to do with her. I was the one who cooked last night.”

The man’s voice was all too familiar, and everyone turned towards the source.

There was Frederick, clad in a black robe, leisurely descending the spiral staircase.