Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 546

The verbal sparring match had finally come to an end, but Marguerite couldn’t shake the disgust crawling beneath her skin. The rest of the workday dragged on, her motivation as absent as the warmth in a mid-winter’s breeze,

When quitting time rolled around, she and her adversary made their way to the parking lot in a silent procession. There, parked with precision, was the familiar Maybach. Chuck, always the professional, stepped out from the passenger side and with a bow of respect, opened the back door for Frederick, who slid into the seat without so much as a backward glance.

Marguerite caught sight of the scene and turned to her own ride, a second-hand car, when Chuck’s voice floated toward her, “Marguerite, where are you off to? Get in!”

She paused, her gaze landing on the tall figure now settled into the leather upholstery, fully aware of his current disdain for her company. With a stubborn shift of her eyes, she replied:

“I’m good. I left my car here last time, and I might as well drive it home today.”

Chuck stood puzzled. He remembered the days Marguerite would hitch a ride without a second thought about her own vehicle. What had changed today?

Were they fighting?

Chuck scrambled to find a way to keep her there, oblivious to the growing impatience of Frederick inside the car, who suddenly barked at the driver, “Drive!”

Chuck shivered, stealing a glance at Marguerite before hurriedly hopping into the vehicle. The driver floored it, and the Maybach shot away, leaving Marguerite coughing in a cloud

of exhaust.

Cursing under her breath, she found her car and after several attempts, the weary engine roared to life. She set off at a crawl, her mood sour and her concentration scattered so much that she didn’t even notice the steady creep of the speedometer. From NôvelDrama.Org.

The car wobbled down the road, rounding a bend and approaching a red light. Marguerite moved to slow down but was met with the heart-stopping realization that her brakes had failed.

She slammed the pedal to the floor to no avail, careening out of control. A frantic glance in the rearview mirror revealed the chaos unfolding behind her, but in her haste, she didn’t see the Maybach reappear, now on a collision course with her.

Before she could react, it surged forward, positioning itself in front of her.

Then came the thunderous crash as both vehicles slammed into a curbside planter.

The impact sent Marguerite’s head crashing into the steering wheel, pain splintering

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through her skull, her vision whiting out.

Dazed and confused, with the acrid stench of smoke assaulting her senses, a pair of strong hands dragged her from the driver’s seat. The familiar, husky voice was laced with a mix of anger and concern, “Driving without a seatbelt? What, are you trying to kill yourself?!”