Bride Behind The Mask

Chapter 39

Marina Shores Village was just an hour’s drive away from Stonebridge City, tucked away in the countryside. But Frederick, with his foot heavy on the gas, made it there in less than half an hour.

By sunset, the village was filled with the salty, fishy scent of the sea breeze.

Robert held his breath, but Frederick’s was dark and grim. His gaze landed on an old, dilapidated warehouse surrounded by thorny bushes.

Wincing through the pain, Frederick pushed his way through the bushes, heading straight for the warehouse pinpointed in Google Maps.

Each step he took felt heavier than the last.

The stench from the surrounding dump was so bad that it had Robert following behind him sneezing like crazy.

With his nose covered, Robert could barely hide his anger. “Who on earth did Marguerite piss off? Who would go so far as to dump her here? This is just sick!”

Just then, there was a shabby and dirty beggar, and his hair was all over the place. He sat in the pile of garbage gnawing on moldy bread. Seeing Frederick and Robert approaching, he picked up a steel pipe and began to menacingly stride towards them.

“This is my turf. Who the hell are you guys?”

Robert was taken aback. “Is this guy out of his mind?”

Before he had even finished his sentence, the beggar was swinging the steel pipe at them. Frederick dodged swiftly. Caught off guard, Robert was forced to block the incoming pipe with his hand.

Frederick shot a glance at the situation. “You handle this guy, and I’ll go find Marguerite!”

With pressure mounting, Robert was livid. “Frederick, make it quick! This guy is stronger than he looks!”

Then Robert was caught up in a struggle with the beggar.

Frederick wasted no time. He kicked open the warehouse door, and the light from outside illuminated the darkness, revealing a flurry of moths and bats that fluttered around before disappearing into the night.

His face was grimmer than before as he called out, “Marguerite!”

The warehouse was eerily silent, with only his anxious echo responding.

He ventured deeper into the warehouse, and as he moved further in, the light grew dimmer. He pulled out his phone, using the flashlight to guide his path. Then he noticed a large bag on the floor.

The bulging bag hinted at a vague human shape inside, and Frederick’s heart pounded in his chest.

He was anxious, thinking, “Oh my God! Could Marguerite be in there?”

Without a second thought, he rushed over and opened the bag. What he saw was Marguerite’s dirty face.

She was barely breathing and was cold as ice.

He was frantic. Then he undid the ropes around her hands and feet, calling her name, “Marguerite! Marguerite, wake up!”

Her breath was faint and she remained unconscious, unable to hear his desperate calls.

Frederick quickly removed his coat, draping it over Marguerite’s frail body. Then he gently picked her up. He dashed towards the entrance, where

a Cullinan car had just pulled up through the bushes. Sporting a new injury on his face, Robert shouted, “Get in, quick!”

Frederick held Marguerite tight as he opened the car door and quickly got in.

Robert hit the gas, and the engine roared to life as the car kicked up dust.

Just as they were pulling away, the beggar emerged from somewhere with a string of firecrackers in his hand. He threw them at the car with a manic grin on his face.

The firecrackers exploded under the car, and Frederick instinctively covered Marguerite’s ears.

By now, night had fallen, and the dim streetlights illuminated Marguerite’s bruised and battered face.

Frederick looked at her face. While gently touching her wounds, his hand was trembling slightly.

It felt like a punch to the gut, leaving him with a dull pain.

Who had she offended?

Who had the audacity to not only hurt her but to tie her up and abandon her in the village?

Frederick thought of the beggar in the dump.

Could it be him?

No! There was no way!

The beggar was clearly mentally unstable, dressed in rags. He was probably just a pawn, and there was no way he had anything to do with Marguerite!

13:10

So, who was it that hurt his woman?

He was determined to find the culprit!

Frederick held Marguerite tightly. He gently soothed her frail body, trying his best not to hurt her.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Robert was both saddened and relieved.

For once, he saw something other than indifference on Frederick’s face.

At that moment, Frederick’s world was consumed by Marguerite. His eyes were filled with guilt and concern.

Suddenly, a call from Chuck came through.

With Frederick’s phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth, Robert answered the call for him.

“Mr. Winston! We found the last call record on Marguerite’s phone! It was from a woman named Zoe!”

A look of killing intent flashed across Frederick’s eyes, “Who’s Zoe? Find her!”

On the other end of the line, Chuck swallowed nervously and stammered, “Mr. Winston, Zoe is Ms. Yuna’s mother.”