Bride Behind the Mask novel Chapter 192

Marguerite was so confused.

Pick her up? For what? What's going on?!

Marguerite was left puzzled and clueless. Immediately, she saw the butler bow slightly towards Frederick, showing respect without a hint of fear.

"Of course, if you wish to return together, it's possible. It won't take long. After all, the master has not recovered from his heart attack since his last birthday party. He's still lying in the hospital. You should go see him!"

Birthday party? Heart attack? It must be the Winston family!

But Marguerite had never expected her pregnancy test to have such a powerful impact. So much that the head of the Winston Group fell ill and hasn't left the hospital yet.

She felt like was about to walk into a lion's den.

"Miss Lockwood, please come with us. Our master wants to see you."

As soon as the butler finished speaking, two bodyguards stepped forward, rudely pushed Miley aside, and took Marguerite in between them.

"Let go of me! I can walk on my own!"

Marguerite's feet swayed in mid-air. She felt helpless and angry, like a chick at the mercy of a butcher.

Miley rushed forward, pounding the bodyguards' shoulders, "Put her down! She's carrying a child! If she gets hurt, who's going to take responsibility? Put her down now!"

With a backward shove, Miley was sent flying by brute force.

Suddenly, Marguerite felt a tight grip on her arm. Frederick had grabbed her elbow and blocked the way with his other hand.

"Be gentle with her."

Frederick's tone was indifferent, but the anger in his eyes threatened to incinerate everyone.

The butler, still smiling, motioned towards the cars, "Young master, why don't we all go together? The master has been waiting for a long time."

She had never dealt with Powell before and had no idea what she was about to face. But it wouldn't be easy.

With Frederick holding her hand like this, Marguerite felt a little less anxious.

Upon entering the ward, Powell's condition was not as severe as Marguerite had imagined. Powell sat on the couch with a fierce look in his eyes, clutching a cane.

A dignified and composed middle-aged woman sat next to him, dressed in a simple, milky white gown. Her soft features were surprisingly beautiful.

She had the grace and gentleness of a lady of a big, noble family.

If Marguerite wasn't mistaken, this was Frederick's biological mother, Jocelyn.

Lost in her thoughts, a particularly stern voice broke her reverie.

"You brat! I'll make things clear today. Either you hand over half of the company's shares to Maurice, or you divorce this woman!"