Marrying the Man in the Dark

Chapter 980 Connection

Frances furrowed her brow, pondering for a moment. “There are several instances…” she began.

“Such as?” Cherise prompted eagerly.

“For example, Mr. Lenoir once had a disagreement with his family because of you,” Frances revealed.

Cherise’s eyes widened. “A disagreement with his family? With whom? Why?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Just as Frances was about to respond, a discreet cough from the servant nearby interrupted the conversation.

Frances interpreted the subtle hint and offered a faint smile. “You’ll need to address that matter with Mr. Lenoir directly,” she advised.

“We’re merely servants; it’s not our place to reveal too many details,” Frances added, maintaining a sense of propriety.

“I’d rather not find myself in a situation like June’s,” she concluded with a note of caution.

Cherise nodded, mindful of the cautionary tale of June. She restrained herself from pressing further, sighing softly as she settled back onto the sofa, idly watching a drama unfold before her.

Her mind was preoccupied throughout the morning.

Damien was engrossed in his duties, Mr. Hampson had his own affairs to attend to, and Frances was undoubtedly busy as well.

everyone in the household had responsibilities to

had

Cherise found herself with nothing

lost the ability to lead an independent life.

trapped in a cage, devoid of freedom, with

attention–a poignant reunion between

should have had

Chapter 980 Connection

reached for her phone and dialed the

voice answered, young and

did you manage to

to respond to the unexpected voice on the line.

brief moment of uncertainty, she tentatively continued, “I noticed the number saved as ‘Mom‘ in my phone… so I called to check.”

are? And where is my mom?” she inquired,

silence from the other end of the line before Zachary sighed softly. “What’s the matter with

flustered, Cherise retorted, “What do

a hint of exasperation as he explained, “You wouldn’t fail to recognize my voice, and you surely know

was at a loss for words.

she couldn’t keep up the facade any longer. “I have amnesia,” she

of sorrow in her voice as she continued, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know my past. The household staff won’t tell me. My husband won’t let me leave the house or disclose my

feeling the weight of her frustration and boredom settling in. “So I’m terribly