Chapter 95 Margaret Looks Like Marjorie
William just sat there, not saying a word. He popped open the nightstand drawer, grabbed a cigar, and lit it up with a flick of his lighter.
With the cigar nestled between his fingers, smoke curling around him, William's face was all broody and his brows were knitted together, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The cigar burned down to a nub before he finally spoke, his voice heavy. "Marjorie was the girl who got snatched with me when I was a kid."
Margaret's eyebrows scrunched up a bit. If she remembered right, William had asked her a bunch of times before.
"Margaret, ever been kidnapped?"
"Margaret, you sure you've never been kidnapped?"
Back then, she thought his questions were totally out of left field. But now, was he mixing her up with Marjorie? Or worse, was he seeing her as some kind of Marjorie replacement?
William's eyes were icy, and his tone was dark. "The kidnappers were after me. Marjorie just got caught in the crossfire. We were stuck in this tiny, pitch-black cabin for days."
"And then what?" Margaret's voice was low, but she had to know.
William's ridiculously handsome face was clouded with sorrow. "Marjorie fell off a cliff trying to save me."
That painful memory was something he never wanted to dig up. Back then, he was powerless, just watching as Marjorie plunged into the abyss. All these years, he never stopped looking for her. But he found zilch.
Margaret was quiet. She hadn't expected such a tragic backstory between William and Marjorie. Marjorie fell off a cliff to save him, probably didn't make it. No wonder he couldn't let her go.
"Do I look a lot like Marjorie?" Margaret asked after a pause.
William was taken aback.
Marjorie was just a kid back then, not fully grown. Plus, they were stuck in the dark, so his memory of her face was pretty fuzzy. But the vibe Marjorie gave him, that warmth and familiarity, was unforgettable. Many times, when he was alone with Margaret, he felt like she was Marjorie. Because Margaret had the same subtle scent as Marjorie, and the same comforting presence.
Thinking about it, William looked at Margaret deeply and said, "Yeah, a lot."
Margaret's heart sank. She finally got why William made those mixed signals, protected her, and went all out to clear her name when Ella accused her. Even why he said, "Maybe we could try to develop a relationship"
It was all because she looked like Marjorie.
Margaret took a few deep breaths, her eyes locking onto the man beside her, and said coldly, "Listen up. I'm Margaret Scott, one of a kind, not Marjorie or anyone's stand-in. My future husband has to love me for me, not as some substitute. So, William, it's never gonna happen between us!"
Margaret grabbed the thin blanket from the bed and made a beeline for the sofa, plopping down with a huff.
Her words still ringing in his ears, William watched her determined back as she walked away. His eyes narrowed, his gaze deepening and growing more complicated by the second.
He couldn't even figure out for himself if his feelings for Margaret were because of Marjorie. All he knew was that right now, his heart was all about Margaret.
It was late, and Margaret lay on the sofa, tossing and turning, sleep nowhere in sight. Memories of the past month with William kept flashing through her mind.
To be fair, William was a catch. Like Xavier said, he had the whole package—talent, looks, power, and status, sitting pretty at the top of the heap.
But his heart was already taken by Marjorie. And Margaret was a perfectionist, especially when it came to love. She wanted the real deal, not to be anyone's second choice. William's heart belonged to Marjorie, which meant they were a no-go.
Neither of them got a wink of sleep that night. By morning, with the sun creeping up, Margaret got up with dark circles under her eyes, and William looked just as worn out. Bradley, all chipper, came to open the door for them, only to find them looking like they'd been through the wringer.
Seemed like whatever he gave William last night did the trick.
Bradley grinned knowingly. "Take it easy, you gotta pace yourselves."
Margaret just kept quiet. What was Bradley even thinking? Did he think they had spent the night tangled in the sheets?
At the office, Margaret's mind was still stuck on the story William told her about him and Marjorie. Since William was so hung up on Marjorie, Margaret decided to help him out. She shot a message to Anthony: [Need you to find someone.]
Anthony replied quick: [Who?]
Margaret typed fast: [The girl who got kidnapped with William ten years ago, goes by Marjorie.]
Anthony groaned and replied: [Ten years ago, huh? Got any more info?]
Margaret messaged: [That's all I got. Get back to me ASAP.]
Anthony sighed and texted: [Alright.]
Margaret had mad faith in Anthony's skills. He always came through for her. But this time, Anthony was taking forever.
By evening, Margaret couldn't wait any longer. She called him up, "Any luck?"
On the other end, Anthony, usually all jokes, sounded serious. "I can't find a thing."
Margaret was floored. Can't find anything? How was that even possible? With Anthony's skills, how could he come up empty?
"I'm sorry. I really tried my best, but I got nothing." Anthony's voice had a hint of guilt and doubt. "Maybe I'm not good enough. Ada, you might have to handle this one yourself."
"Alright, I get it."
Hanging up, Margaret furrowed her brows. Who was this Marjorie? What really went down that day, and where did Marjorie disappear to? Why couldn't even Anthony dig up anything?
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
