Bride Behind the Mask novel Chapter 193

It was Powell's voice.

The cane thudded on the floor as he leaned on it.

Marguerite bit her lip, glancing instinctively at Frederick, but the man only clutched her hand tighter.

Choose one? Either divorce or give up half the shares in the company?

She and Frederick were already planning to divorce, hadn't he told Mr. Powell?

Yet, the man looked remarkably calm, his gaze nonchalantly resting on Powell's face.

"You've already registered a company for him, and invested billions. You're making such a huge move, but you want me to give him half of my shares? Dad, you can't be so biased."

Powell's eyes widened shockingly, and his hand gripping the cane tightened noticeably.

He never expected that he had just registered a company for Maurice this morning, and Frederick knew about it already.

Indeed, the current Frederick was even more powerful and cunning than he had imagined!

Knowing he was no match for Frederick, his gaze fell on the hand Frederick held Marguerite with, then quickly shifted away.

Clearing his throat, his stern face softened slightly as he started to reason gently.

"Frederick, you went against me last time to publicly acknowledge her. I couldn't argue with you then, so I turned a blind eye. Who would have thought that she's carrying a bastard child, and there's already gossip. Can you handle the damage?"

Marguerite was stunned.

She knew that Frederick wanted to make her public at Powell's birthday banquet.

But she didn't take it to heart.

Firstly, she thought that since they were bound to divorce, whether she was made public or not wouldn't hurt her too much.

Secondly, she knew clearly that her status was nowhere near Frederick's, he might want to make her public, but his family would definitely not allow it.

"Frederick! Hold your tongue. You guys go home first, don't provoke your father any further!"

As she said this, she tried to separate the hands of the man and Marguerite, but it seemed that where there is oppression, there is resistance.

The man's broad palm held Marguerite's fingers tighter and tighter, so tight that Marguerite felt her bones were about to break.

His gaze passed over Jocelyn and fell on Powell, his expression indifferent, but with an undeniable solemnity, "I asked you before whether you preferred a boy or a girl, and now you have no choice. The child in Marguerite's belly must be born!"

"Shut up!" Mr. Powell roared, shakily standing up, pushing Jocelyn away from Frederick, and confronting Frederick furiously, "What are you trying to say?"

Frederick's lips curled slightly, "Don't you understand? I won't divorce Marguerite, and naturally, I won't give up a single share of the company!"

"You bastard! Unfilial son!" Mr. Powell's eyes were bloodshot, and he was so angry that he nearly spat out blood, "I'll beat you to death!"

Suddenly, he raised his cane high. Marguerite, quick as a flash, instinctively hugged Frederick. The cane fell mercilessly on her frail back.