Forbidden Passion

Chapter 164 She Hated Flies as Much as She Hated Phoebe

After her shower, Phoebe emerged to find Theodore leaning against the window, gazing out at the night scene. She pursed her lips, not really wanting to engage with him, and turned to head for the walk-in closet. She dried her hair and then heard the doorbell ring. She walked out of the bedroom.

Vanessa stood at the entrance. There was a flash of resentment in her eyes when she saw Phoebe, but it quickly disappeared.

"Miss Ziegler, the cupcakes you made were delicious. Theodore saw that I liked them and gave them all to me. You don't mind, do you?" Vanessa said, her words a veiled dagger aimed at Phoebe's heart. Phoebe felt a lump in her throat, "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," Vanessa nodded, looking smug.

Phoebe laughed, "I'm glad you liked them. However, while I was kneading the dough, I found a dead fly in it. I didn't tell Theodore; I wonder if you noticed it." Vanessa, despite knowing Phoebe was trying to disgust her, couldn't help the revulsion churning in her stomach.

She hated flies as much as she hated Phoebe.

"You're lying!"

not. Oh, and while I was at it, I also picked my nose and scratched my head. If you don't mind, I

of the two women at the entrance. He greeted Phoebe first, "Mrs. Reynolds, Miss Fitzroy." "It's so late, and yet you've made the trip, doctor.

alright; it has cooled

living room sofa. Theodore came out of the bedroom, his wet hair hanging over his forehead, making

hit them. He kept his composure as he examined the wound on her palm, "You can't keep the wound covered all the time; it's gotten smelly." Vanessa glanced at Theodore,

and dried the bandage with a blow dryer; I thought it

her finish, frowning, "You washed your hair and didn't change the bandage or reapply the medication.

at Theodore with a mix of

important your hands are to you." Vanessa had actually been tormenting her own hand on purpose. As long as her hand was injured, Theodore would feel bad about asking her to leave. Now, after being reprimanded so bluntly by the

her palm with hydrogen peroxide, and applied new medication, "It's hot now, and the wound has already scabbed over. You don't need to wrap

palm. It was now riddled with ugly scars,

paid such a high price, and yet nothing had changed. She was not

widely, "It's late, Miss Fitzroy. Get some