Chapter 508

Marguerite snapped back to reality, confusion laced her voice. “What?”

“About Hackett,” Frederick across from her said, his eyes piercing as if they could unveil the deepest secrets of the soul. He had an unnerving talent for voicing things in a direct manner.

He always seemed to know what she was thinking, had done so in the past and was doing it now. Marguerite had grown used to

Thus, she didn’t bother to hide her feelings.

A trace of melancholy thickened on her face as she nodded, spilling her truth. “Deep down, I guess I always hoped I was a Fitzgerald. At least that way, I’d have family that cared, that worried about me. Zoe and Ablett never treated me like one of their own. And since grandma passed away, I’ve been all alone in this world.”

Suddenly, Frederick felt a pang in his chest. Was it because he thought of Laverne? Or had he begun to feel a twinge of compassion for Marguerite?

even he couldn’t pinpoint the reason.

meet his deep-set eyes and asked, “But I am genuinely curious. Why did you stand up for me downstairs? Why argue on

Why indeed?

with a suitable reason

convince both Marguerite and himself. “Laverne was kind to me. Even if I despised you,

as she faced him. “What do

any goodwill

grandmother had known Frederick

not answer immediately. He leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, a strange flicker in his

mother. When we were at our lowest, a little girl gave us a loaf of bread, and her grandmother, a bowl of warm soup.”

Marguerite’s mind seized.

the fog of her childhood memories, a similar scene surfaced.

evening, a mother and son close to collapsing in the

to get a bowl of broth from her grandmother, and

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