Whenever someone who might pose a threat came too close, she had to stay constantly on guard.
If she fell, her sister would probably collapse completely.
Frank, the assistant, nodded. “Understood, Ms. Tremaine.”
Giselle straightened her posture the moment she saw Cynthia.
Cynthia’s expression was cool and distant as she walked toward her.
Fred kept close behind, ready to step in if Giselle tried anything reckless.
Giselle’s gaze lingered on Fred for a moment, then snapped back to Cynthia, her eyes burning with jealousy.
“Afraid of me? Is that why you always have a bodyguard at your side?”
Cynthia gave a short, scornful laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself. You look so gaunt and lifeless, I’m afraid if I slapped you, you’d drop dead on the spot.”
Giselle ground her teeth, glaring at Cynthia with undisguised hatred.
“You already left—why did you come back?”
“Benedict doesn’t love you anymore! Why are you still clinging to this place like some pathetic ghost?!”
Cynthia stood just out of Giselle’s reach, her face composed and impassive, silently watching Giselle unravel.
Giselle, faced with Cynthia’s complete indifference, clenched her fists and looked ready to lunge.
“Give me back my child!” she screamed.
Fred stepped in, blocking her path. As he pushed her away, Giselle stumbled and fell to the ground, a flicker of pain crossing her face.
She’d only just lost her baby and her body was still weak.
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