The car shd half a meter in the snow before it came <b>to </b>a halt. Marguente unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out, her <b>ankles </b>sinking into the snow 25 she dashed unevenly towards the mansion’s <b>entrance</b>.
Just as the reached the doorway, a security guard’s arm swiftly blocked her path Ma’am, who are you looking for?
The mansion’s security had changed hands several times, and this guard was new Marguerite didn’t recognize him
I’d like to take a look inside Marguente tried to push past him, but the guard gently pushed her back, his body blocking the entrance as his hand gripped the side railing, effectively blocking her way “Ma’am, this is a private residence You can’t go in!”
Marguente was desperate. “Has the mansion been sold, gr has the owner returned?”
Tm not sure, today is my first day”
Marguente tiptoed to get a better look inside. The Rolls–Royce Cullinan was a fair distance away, and she couldn’t make out the license te, let alone determine the owner of the car
The guard was growing impatient, “Maam, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Marguerite <b>pointed </b>at the Rolls–Royce Cullinan, “Do you know who owns that car? Is it the same person who owns the house?”
“I don’t even know who owns the house, how could I possibly know who owns the car?”
Marguerite looked disappointed, but she didn’t give up. “Have you seen a tall, thin man, very handsome with a mole near his eye?”
“Ma’am, don’t make a fuss <b>here</b>. If you don’t leave. I’ll have to call the police”
The guard’s gloomy face looked even grimmer in the cold wind. Realizing that she had put him in a difficult position, Marguerite didn’t push. She cast a resentful look at the guard, then reluctantly turned back to her car, her gaze lingering on the distant Rolls–Royce
The Cullinan, once <b>a </b>rare sight, was now quitemon among the wealthy
Knowing Frederick Winston’s character, he wouldn’t be driving a three–year–old dar. But Marguente couldn’t shake the feeling that Fredenck had returned She couldn’t contain her excitement and immediately dialed Miley’s number.
Miley, still groggy with sleep, answered, What’s up?”
Marguerite got straight to the point, “Is Frederick back in the country?”
Miley was surprised, “How would I know if Mr. Winston is back or not?”
“Didn’t Robert Fitzgerald tell you?”
“We haven’t been in touch for a week. He said he was going to South Africa to find someone. The signal there is bad, so he hasnt called
Her guess was wrong then.
In recent years, Robert had always been with Frederick Marguerite knew that. If they were to return, Robert would certainly inform Miley first
So, was she overthinking? Marguerite felt increasingly disappointed. She buried her head in the steering wheel, the feelings of guilt and pain enveloping
her once more.
It was her fault that Frederick had to give up everything he had built with the Winston family
Every time she thought of this, she felt like she was nailed to a pir of shame, even despising herself <b>a </b>little
She didn’t dare to hope that Frederick would forgive her, nor did she want to stir up any more trouble. But the constant longing was driving her mad
She just wanted to see him, to know what he looks like now, whether he had gained or lost weight, how he was doing
When she raised her head again, Marguerite’s face was wet with tears. Realizing that she might never see him again in her life, Marguerite took a deep
breath
She quickly wiped her tears, ready to resign herself to fate and leave. But just then, there was a slight movement under her car, as if something had rolled underneath
Then, someone tapped on her car, it <b>was </b>gentle, without much force.
Marguerite turned to look out the window, and her eyes met a pair of round, stubborn ones
To her surprise, it was a little boy!