The Officer's Runaway Wife and Secret Son novel Chapter 338

The clock hand pointed to forty-five past the hour when a black sedan pulled up downstairs. A doorman stepped forward to open the car door, and a foot in a beige stiletto emerged first.

Margot was wearing a light camel-colored coat, her curly hair draped over her shoulders.

Clara watched the figure from above, a silent sneer on her lips.

Not two minutes later, Margot came up to the second floor and quickly spotted Clara.

"Clara, sorry to keep you waiting."

Margot sat down opposite her, placing her handbag on the table. Her eyes scanned Clara's face. "You look wonderful. One would never guess you've had a child."

Clara didn't take the bait. She raised a hand to call the waiter. "Get her a glass of water."

"Room temperature, please," Margot told the waiter with a thin smile. "Thank you. My stomach can't handle anything cold."

The waiter nodded and left.

Margot turned back to Clara. "Rhys is always managing me, not letting me drink cold things or coffee. Don't mind me, Clara. I'm not as… resilient as you are."

Clara leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and watched her performance with cold eyes.

"You don't need to bring up Rhys in every sentence. I didn't ask you here to listen to this nonsense."

Margot said, "Then are you here to give Rhys and me a wedding gift?"

"A wedding gift? A funeral wreath might be more appropriate, don't you think?"

Clara's face was emotionless. "Margot, when will you stop telling lies that fall apart with a single poke?"

Margot picked up her water nonchalantly and took a sip.

"So you two have seen each other?"

"No comment."

"I know why you're looking for me." Margot held the glass, her fingers tapping against it. "He didn't tell you, did he? What it is that binds us together."

Clara said, "Then why don't you tell me? What kind of leverage do you have on Rhys that makes him act like he's not even human for your sake?"

Margot laughed.

"I mean, you're truly disgusting," Clara said without mercy. "You copied the way I dressed, the way I talked, the way I did my makeup. And what did it get you?"

"Shut up!" Margot's voice suddenly rose, drawing glances from nearby tables. "I didn't copy you! Rhys likes it! He likes me dressed this way!"

"Does he?" Clara sneered. "Then why aren't you two together? Why do you need to lie to me? Is he still watching over you like a dog now?"

That question hit Margot's sore spot.

For the past four years, Rhys had barely even given her the pretense of 'responsibility.'

"You don't have to provoke me." Margot sat up straight again. "You want the truth? Fine. But there are too many ears here. It's not a convenient place to talk."

She took a room key card from her bag and slid it across the table to Clara.

"Eight o'clock tonight. I'll tell you everything." Margot pointed to the room number. "If you have the guts to come."

Clara glanced at it.

"Fine." She placed her hand on the key card. "I hope your story is worth the thousand-mile trip."