Hayes had spent the entire night nestled into Marguerite’s arm, sound asleep.
For Marguerite, it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but somehow she slept like a baby.
The next morning, it was the weight of a brute force that woke her.
Blearily opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the Adam’s apple of a man.
His distinct jaw rested atop Marguerite’s head, his strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
Marguerite was startled! She realized Hayes and her were completely trapped in Frederick’s embrace, and he was holding her tight!
Her cheeks flushed, and her heart started racing, making it hard for her to catch her breath.
She glanced down at the little guy in her arms and to her surprise, Hayes was up before her, gazing at her with puppy–dog eyes.
The little boy was squished in the middle, his cheeks red and his forehead sweaty.
Marguerite whispered, “Is it a bit tight?”
Hayes gasped, his eyes filled with a plaintive look, “Can’t… breathe…”
Seeing his pitiful expression, Marguerite had to suppress a chuckle.
“How about we push him off? You nudge him with your bum, and I’ll push his shoulder. We’ll do it quietly, don’t want to wake him.”
The little guy blinked, nodding in agreement, “Okay.”
Marguerite carefully extracted her arm and her hand found its way to Frederick’s shoulder. She counted to three in her head and then, with Hayes, gave a great heave, rolling Frederick to the side.
Their breathing eased instantly, but then came a heavy sigh from above. Frederick was awake!
They clammed up, exchanging wide–eyed looks, their hearts in their throats. This was not good.
They might have used too much force, aggravating Frederick’s wounds.
He must be furious, right?
“What time is it?” Sure enough, Frederick’s voice, gruff with irritation, broke the silence.
Marguerite swallowed hard, took out her phone to check the time, and reported accurately, “Eight o’clock.”
“Take Hayes downstairs for breakfast, and don’t arouse suspicion.”
Marguerite gingerly sat up, she stole a peek at Frederick’s face, his expression still tight, his brows furrowed together.
“Aren’t you coming down?”
Without opening his eyes, his voice took on a sharper edge, “You talk too much.”
Marguerite clamped up immediately.
Frederick’s tone was harsh, but Marguerite wasn’t offended; instead, she felt a twinge of sympathy. It seemed he was in pain just talking, and she wondered if he was feeling any better.
Shaking off her concerns, she lifted Hayes from the bed, hurriedly helped him wash up, and snuck into the nursery to change him into clean clothes.
Then they headed downstairs for breakfast.
The dining room wasn’t fully occupied yet, and the servants were efficiently laying out the morning meal.
Teresa and Manley stood to the side, their eyes glued to the procession of food as they involuntarily swallowed their saliva.
Yuna, yawning profusely, descended the spiral staircase and caught sight of Marguerite holding Hayes‘ hand in the living room.
She reacted as if she’d seen a ghost, her voice filled with shock, “Why are you here?”
They turned at the sound of her voice.
Marguerite, thinking Yuna was addressing her, responded nonchalantly, “Where should I be, then?”
Yuna rolled her eyes at Marguerite, then ran over to Hayes, her tone urgent, “Where’s your dad?”
Her abrupt question threw Hayes off for a second, but he quickly fibbed, “Work… overtime…”
He couldn’t tell Mom the truth because Dad had said last night that this was to be kept from everyone else. He had to keep Daddy’s secret.
Yuna, however, was anything but calm, “Who brought you home last night?”
If it was the driver who brought him home, there’s no reason for this
Barnes had clearly said the problem was taken care of. How is he still not dead? What on
Earth is going on!?