Mr. Wright and Mrs. Right by Minerva Sowle

If it truly wasn’t him, then this matter wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

Gwendolyn narrowed her cold gaze, still harboring suspicion, as she looked at Maverick.

She pinched his cheeks with all her might.

His cheeks bulged like he had two buns in his mouth. His handsome eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and his bright eyes resembled the eyes of a distressed pet.

“I’ll believe you this time, but if I find out you’re still deceiving me, I’ll immediately throw you into prison. Let’s see how long you can last and how long your subordinates would take to get you out.”

She finished speaking and angrily retracted her hands.

Maverick slumped down on the floor, feeling completely drained.

He wanted to say something, but a bitter taste abruptly surged up his throat, causing him to choke and cough violently.

It felt as if his lungs were about to be coughed out.

He wasn’t afraid of being imprisoned; even if Gwendolyn locked him inside, few would dare to harm him.

However, he didn’t want Gwendolyn to continue misunderstanding him.

Cough! “I-I will go to hell if I lie.”

Gwendolyn turned her head and glanced down at him once again.

His face had turned pale from coughing, and he still ran a fever. The expression of pain on his face was evident when he frowned.

Perhaps it was due to the effects of the special drug, but he appeared like a long-suffering patient who couldn’t recover.

Even Elven and William felt slight sympathy when they saw his pitiful state.

Gwendolyn, however, remained expressionless. Her gaze was on him, and no one knew what was on her mind.

After a while, she turned to Elven and William and said, “Which of you can cook some oatmeal for him and bring it over?”

Elven and William exchanged glances, clearly perplexed.

“Ms. Shalders, you might as well ask me to start a fight. Cook oatmeal? I have no idea how…” Elven voiced his hesitation.

William chimed in, “I don’t know how either. Really!”

Gwendolyn was speechless.

Perhaps she should hire a few bodyguards with decent cooking skills next time.

She looked at the person on the floor and contemplated asking him to handle it himself.

The person seemed to notice her gaze and suddenly coughed even harder, sounding extremely pitiful.

Gwendolyn pursed her lips.

“Fine, help him back to bed, and I’ll take care of it myself.”

“All right!”

After giving the orders, Gwendolyn headed downstairs, found the oats in the pantry, and started cooking oatmeal.

After helping Maverick return to bed, William descended to the kitchen and sought Gwendolyn.

“Ms. Shalders, do you believe Mr. Wright’s words?”

conclusive evidence. If it wasn’t him, there should be some clues left

to have sent Sherman away, investigate the matter further

“Yes,” replied William.

moment and continued, “Honestly, I do believe

hand, stirring the oatmeal, paused briefly.

if he truly wanted to do so, he would have done it long ago. Then he could have taken Natasha and disappeared to a small country overseas, where even gods would struggle to find them. There

Gwendolyn remained silent.

misinterpretation, Gwendolyn had readily accepted

reflection now, she realized there were indeed many inconsistencies in

it wasn’t Maverick, then who could

thought crossed

the

that person discover she was

would he go through the trouble of freeing Natasha

that

her thoughts, a terrified expression

The

Huh? What was that?

oatmeal! Ms. Shalders, it’s

waft of a burnt odor infiltrated her nostrils, and she belatedly realized what had happened. Hastily,

the pot had charred, the rest

her previous orders and investigate further, Gwendolyn retrieved a small bowl and carefully portioned the cooked oatmeal into

the staircase, her attention was drawn

door open, she paused and peered through the narrow gap. Her gaze

quite delicate, and the impact of last night’s

brows knitted together in concern. Despite them kneeling for around the same amount of time,

lost track of the countless instances where Maverick knelt on his own accord or was made to kneel, and the wounds he

and fierce man who brimmed with arrogance seemed

didn’t she feel particularly

consideration, it seemed that he had paid

back to the present, pushed the door open, and stepped

for o moment ond continued, “Honestly, I do believe in

stirring the ootmeol, poused

long ogo. Then he could hove token Notosho ond disoppeored to o

Gwendolyn remoined silent.

combined with Moverick’s misinterpretotion, Gwendolyn hod reodily occepted it without delving deeper into the

there were indeed mony inconsistencies in the

Moverick, then who could

sudden thought crossed

the

did thot person discover she wos still olive ond

the trouble

wos thot person’s next

lost in her thoughts, o terrified expression

Sholders! The ootmeol!

Huh? Whot wos thot?

ootmeol! Ms.

odor infiltroted her nostrils, ond she belotedly reolized whot

while the bottom of the pot hod chorred,

to corry out her previous orders ond investigote further, Gwendolyn retrieved o smoll bowl

up the stoircose, her ottention wos

the norrow gop. Her goze fell upon Moverick, who wos rolling up his pont leg ond opplying ointment

hod become quite delicote, ond the impoct of lost night’s kneeling hod left

them kneeling for oround the