Substitutee Marriage: Fallingg For My Ugly Wifee

“Come out and see me.”

Shera’s anger flared within her.

“Why are you here?” she snapped.

“You should have found an opportunity to make Millie miscarry in Preagend.”

She had a hunch that Millie was pregnant. Last night, in a vivid dream, Millie had given birth to twins, and Celeste had been overjoyed with her new grandchildren.

“She’s on alert,” Ryan said.

“It’s not easy to do stuff Like that these days. See you in the park in twenty minutes.”

“It’s unnecessary for us to meet.”

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Shera suspected that Ryan had come to Peach Town to deal with Marcus.

This was something they strongly differed on. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Miss Evans,” he said with icy coldness, “don’t forget who saved you from that dark room. You should be grateful.”

She could hear his bristling anger.

Ryan had indeed rescued her from there, and Shera knew that she wouldn’t have escaped without his help.

Ryan was a suspicious man by nature. He had happened to be staying in the villa opposite the one where Shera had been imprisoned. He had noticed the servants coming and going, but never saw the master, which piqued his curiosity.

One night, while smoking in his car by the roadside, he overheard the servants discussing the matter in hushed tones.

They spoke in a foreign language, but he could understand the gist of it.

It became clear that some poor woman was locked inside, and that she was a compatriot of his. He learned that her sister was cruel and had imprisoned her.

That night, Ryan snuck into the villa and found the woman in a room.

When she raised her head and he recognized her as Bolton’s daughter, he was shocked. He resolved to help her escape.

As Shera approached the lakeside, she saw Ryan staring out at the lakes, his back turned to her. Her brows furrowed in concern.

She couldn’t fathom why he’d invited her here. If Marcus saw them together, there would be no end to the trouble she’d be in.

“I’m here,” she said impatiently.

“What is this about?”

Ryan turned to face her, his hands sliding into the pockets of his gray trousers.