Chapter 509


    In that moment, Marguerite struggled to steady her emotions. She had just discovered that the mother


    and son she had helped years ago were none other than Frederick and Jocelyn. How had she failed to


    recognize them all this time?


    What touched her most was the realization that her small act of kindness, something she thought of as


    an inconsequential gesture, had stayed with Frederick for so long.


    “When did you know that the girl, the one you were looking for, was me?” she asked.


    His gaze turned distant, as if he were speaking of someone else’s life. “Three years ago, the day we


    fell apart.”


    It was the same day her grandmother wasid to rest-the day Frederick had intended to confess his


    feelings to her!


    Marguerite cursed the timing of her knowledge.


    Had she known earlier that Frederick had been searching for her, had she known of his intentions, she


    would never have gone to the Winston estate to meet Maurice.


    Even if she’d remained blissfully unaware of the identity of the mysterious man from her past, it


    wouldn’t have mattered.


    She wanted to be with Frederick, even if it meant fleeing with him, far from theforts of Stonebridge


    City. She would have given anything for that.


    But life offers no second chances, and her regrets were now a burden toote to lift.


    A tearful hitch caught in her throat as she spoke, “Why didn’t you tell me that day?”


    “I went to the Winston estate to tell you everything,” he said.


    That day, his urgency to find Marguerite was not just to acknowledge the debt of a life saved.


    He wanted to know if she was the woman from that passionate night-a question left unanswered as the


    woman’s face captured on the security footage was unclear whether it was Marguerite or Yuna.


    But Frederick had not anticipated that before he could voice his doubts, Marguerite would reveal


    something far more consequential-something that would alter the course of his life forever.


    His decision to send Yuna to the ind was ast grasp at hope; if the child wasn’t his, then the only


    other possibility was Marguerite.


    If that were true, he’d find any excuse for her, believing she must’ve been manipted by Maurice or


    hiding some unspeakable


    secret.


    Content (C) N?v/elDra/ma.Org.


    But reality is often cruel, and he was left to face the painful oues alone.


    The more Marguerite thought about it, the sadder she became. She hadn’t realized the significance she


    held in his heart, and perhaps that was why he resented her so deeply.


    With a sudden lift of her face, her eyes brimming with tears and sincerity, she asked, “Do you still hate


    me?”


    “Of course!” His answer came without hesitation, and despite preparing herself, Marguerite was taken


    aback.


    The word was a blow, its power almost too much to bear as tears blurred her vision.


    If he still harbored hatred, why had hee to her aid today? Could it merely be for her grandmother’s


    sake?


    Determined for a clearer answer, she pressed on, “What about love? Do you still have love for me?


    Can you answer me honestly?”


    A heavy silence fell upon the room, suffocating Marguerite as she awaited his response.


    They locked eyes, their gazecking the sweetness of the past, reced by regret and sorrow.


    Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Frederick broke their gaze and looked out at the snow falling


    gently beyond the window, perhaps reminiscing about their shared history.


    “My love has been worn away. There’s nothing left but hate,” he said.