Goodbye My Arrogant Ex (Marguerite and Leonard) novel Chapter 18

“Quietly sort out all the company shares and other assets under my name, and move everything into this account.”

Laura’s expression sharpened, her back straightening as she nodded solemnly. “Understood, Ms. Taylor. I’ll make the arrangements right away.”

Marguerite gave her a small nod. She reached into her purse and handed Laura the car keys, her voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “Take the car. I already ordered a ride for you—once you’ve finished, go home and get some rest.”

Marguerite intended to return alone, to find a quiet place where she could collect her thoughts and settle her nerves.

Laura hesitated, glancing at Marguerite with worry, but finally turned and walked away, keys in hand.

Marguerite took a deep breath and stepped outside.

She’d barely gone a few steps when, out of nowhere, a powerful force yanked her violently aside.

Panic surged through her as she instinctively opened her mouth to scream, “Help—”

But before she could finish, a broad hand clamped tight over her mouth, stifling her cry in her throat.

“What are you yelling for? It’s me—Benjamin.”

A familiar voice, tinged with urgency, whispered sharply in her ear.

Marguerite’s eyes narrowed, her gaze fierce and suspicious. When she finally recognized Benjamin, she didn’t hesitate—she sank her teeth hard into his hand.

He recoiled in pain, his brow furrowing as he let out a sharp hiss and jerked his hand away.

Marguerite stared at her theatrics, stomach churning in disgust.

She quickly stepped back, widening the distance between them, her face twisted in revulsion. “I’m begging you. Take your brother and get as far away from me as possible.”

“In fact, do us all a favor—disappear from my life entirely. Don’t ever show up in front of me again.”

Benjamin’s eyes blazed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Marguerite? Fiona’s done nothing wrong—if anything, you almost got her hurt, and you can’t even apologize?”

“She’s been nothing but kind to you, and yet here you are, blaming her. Do you have any decency at all? Any sense of right and wrong?”

He glared daggers at her, standing atop his imaginary moral pedestal, every word a fresh wound.