NovelEnglishChapter 795
At 10 a.m., in her downtown apartment, Marguerite woke up feeling as if a train had run over her during the
night.
Her head was pounding, and despite the early summer heat beginning to fill her room, she shivered
uncontrollably.
It took her a moment to realize that she had fallen asleep with the air conditioning blasting directly at her
forehead all night.
Great, she thought, another fever.
Marguerite felt the room spin as she tried to get up, but her legs wouldn't hold her, and she collapsed back onto
the bed. With no other option, she lay down for a moment longer before she picked up her phone to call Chuck,
asking him to take over at Poppy Petal Fragrances for the day.
Today was the grand relaunch of Polar Radiance, a day filled with important meetings that couldn't proceed
without a leader at the helm. Chuck agreed without hesitation, but Marguerite couldn't put her phone down even
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtafter the call ended.
She remembered Silas had added her on Facebook yesterday, promising to send over spre-injury photos.
Yet, a whole day had passed without a word from him.
Driven by a mix of emotions, she impulsively checked his profile, only to find it as empty as a ghost town.
Disappointed, she tossed her phone aside, puzzled over the unnecessary amount of tshe spent thinking
about this enigmatic man and why he felt so familiar, his eyes hauntingly similar to Frederick's.
She drifted back to sleep, only to wake up with an even worse headache and a fever that seemed to have set her
entire body on fire. Her throat was dry, and breathing was a struggle.
Realizing she hadn't stocked up on any essential medicines since moving into her new apartment, and with
delivery services barred by the strict security, she was at a loss.
Lacking the strength to even consider going downstairs, she messaged Chuck on Facebook: "Feeling really under
the weather. Could you get someone to drop off scold medicine and fever reducers after the meeting?"
Holding her phone felt like lifting weights, but before she could put it down, it
buzzed with a new message.
"You sick?" the message read.
Marguerite was frustrated. She had already explained her situation to Chuck. What was he playing at with such a
pointless question?
But as she was about to type out a reply, she noticed a transaction notification. The memo read "Medical
Expenses."
Confused, she glanced at the sender's profile picture—a chubby, cartoonish face that belonged to Margot, not
Chuck.
Must be the fever making her brain foggy, she thought. Why else would she message the wrong person?
Just as Marguerite was about to clarify the mix-up, another message from Margot popped up: "What kind of cold
medicine? Would cold relief packets work?"
Despite the mix-up, Marguerite couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude. It seemed like help was coming, even
if from an unexpected source.
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