Bride Behind The Mask (Frederick and Marguerite)

Chapter 483

Chapter 483

Marguerite couldn’t fathom what was stirring such intense emotions in the mother and son.

She found it odd that ever since Robert arrived, the duo seemed to sneak peeks at her every now and then.

Initially, they were discreet, but now they were openly staring, making Marguerite feel a mix of discomfort and

anxiety.

Was it something wrong with her work? That couldn’t be right. She had been working hard.

Unable to come up with an explanation, Marguerite chose to ignore the intense gazes from across the way and

dove back into her tasks. Before she knew it, the workday had ended.

The moment Marguerite stepped into the Winston Mansion, Maurice Winston followed right behind her.

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Accompanying him were several stylish women that Marguerite didn’t recognize, one of whom was carrying an

oversized makeup case.

Marguerite was bewildered, and her confusion only grew as she watched two servants carefully wheel in a large,

see-through wardrobe.

Then, she saw a wedding dress hanging inside! A sinking feeling washed over her.

What was going on? Was Maurice planning a surprise attack, expecting her to marry him today?

But there were no flowers, no red carpet, and no guests-so who was the dress for?

Marguerite was at a loss, glaring at Maurice with a fierce frown, “What are you up to?”

Maurice’s gaze passed over Marguerite without a word. Instead, he commanded, “Take the lady upstairs to

change!”

“Yes, sir!”

As soon as he spoke, the entourage of fashionistas advanced toward Marguerite in their high heels, towering over

her by a good half a head and exuding a suffocating presence.

Frozen on the spot, Marguerite had no clue how to react, “Don’t come near me!”

Her mind was still reeling, and she instinctively took a step back.

Regardless of her anger, no one seemed to care. Like a lamb to the slaughter, she was herded by the women into

the room, stripped of her clothing, and forcefully adorned in the wedlock gown.

“Let go! Who said I wanted to wear this damn dress?!” Marguerite, half-dressed, was growling furiously when one

woman, strong as an ox, restrained both her arms with just one hand.

“Ms. Lockwood, please don’t struggle. We’re just following orders. If you get hurt, it’s not on us.”

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“I don’t care if I get hurt! I’d sooner die than marry him!”

“That’s between you and Mr. Winston, and frankly, it’s none of our business. But you need to get into this dress.”

The woman signaled the others with her eyes.

They didn’t just pin Marguerite’s hands; they also held her legs, forcibly fitting the dress onto her. Then she was

pushed in front of a vanity, where the makeup artist approached with her kit.

“I’m not putting on makeup!”

Marguerite’s eyes were red with fury as she struggled against the two women who were pinning her shoulders

down with such force it was as if they were nailing her to the chair.

As the makeup artist opened her box, seemingly searching for her tools, Marguerite covered her face with her

hands and shouted through her fingers,” won’t wear makeup! No one’s touching me today!”

“It’s not up to you!” Maurice’s sharp voice exploded into the room just as Marguerite finished her sentence.