Chapter 173
Cora’s mouth twitched with fury. She took a deep breath, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the room.
If this idiot wanted to be a doormat, she wasn’t going to stop her. Did Hannah really think she could manipulate her into fighting Sandra for her? What a joke. She was living in the Rosenberg mansion; all the advantages were on her side.
“I’ve read a lot of news stories,” Hannah’s voice floated out just as the door was closing. “Many mistresses accompany the couple to finalize the divorce, and the second it’s done, they rush off to get married themselves. They don’t waste a single second p>
Cora froze, her hand gripping the doorknob. She looked back, her mouth open to ask a question, but then she slowly closed it.
She stood there for a long moment, her mind reeling.
That’s right… How could she have forgotten about that?
If Sandra pulled a move like that, living in this house would be useless. She’d end up having to serve her new mistress.
She would not let that happen.
Sandra walked a short distance from the Rosenberg estate before reaching her car. She had hoped Hannah would be home late, giving her an excuse to have Lionel drive her home so she could investigate the car herself.
But, of course, Hannah had returned early.
She pursed her lips, thinking of Cora standing there, so young and beautiful, but wearing every emotion on her face. If handled correctly, she could be a very
useful weapon.
Screech!
A black Maybach suddenly appeared at the intersection, cutting her off.
Sandra’s head slammed against the steering wheel. Wincing, she sat up, ready to get out and curse the driver, but the license plate stopped her cold.
The driver got out, walked to her window, and tapped on the glass.
“Ms. Woods. My young master would like a word with you p>
Sandra’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. After a moment’s hesitation, she unbuckled her seatbelt and followed the driver to the rear passenger door of the Maybach.
“Mr. Quennel Rosenberg. It’s been a while p>
The tinted
window slid down,
revealing Quennel. He was dressed in a black suit with a black shirt, the top two buttons undone exuding an air of languid nobility as he lounged against the leather seat. His expression was unreadable, but the chilling aura around him was palpable.
Even Sandra, seeing him now, felt a prickle of fear.
Years ago, when she was betrothed to Lionel, she had looked down on him. He had been raised outside the family, lacking the refined education and aristocratic polish of his cousin. Egged on by others, she had decided she would marry Quennel instead.
But she had never dared to make a move on Quennel. For one, his presence terrified her. For another she had heard rumors of his ruthless nature and feared she would end up losing not just her ambitions but her life.
And so, she had ended up where she was today.
“Was the video your doing?” he asked, his voice flat.
Sandra’s heart skipped a beat. She took a step back, but the driver behind her placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I… I p>
Quennel glanced at her, a cold sneer on his lips. “Show her,” he commanded. The driver released her, pulled out his phone, and played a video, holding it in front of her.
Sandra swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she took the phone.
As she watched the contents of the video, her face drained of all color. Her legs gave out, and she stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground as the phone slipped from her grasp.
The car door opened, and a red-soled leather shoe stepped onto the pavement. Quennel walked toward her.