Goodbye My Arrogant Ex (Marguerite and Leonard) novel Chapter 71

Laura couldn’t help but gossip as the conversation went on.

“You’ll find out soon enough!” Marguerite teased, refusing to give anything away before hanging up.

That evening, Wilma finished preparing dinner and called Marguerite downstairs.

When Marguerite entered the dining room, she was surprised to see more than a dozen dishes laid out on the table—every one of them was something she loved.

“Is he coming back tonight?” Marguerite asked, glancing at the spread.

There was no way she could eat all this herself. It felt a bit extravagant, maybe even wasteful.

“Mr. Murphy said you shouldn’t wait for him. He’s not sure when he’ll be back, so you just go ahead and eat, ma’am.”

Once she’d explained, Wilma seemed worried Marguerite might feel uneasy with her hovering nearby, so she quietly excused herself.

The unfamiliar house left Marguerite feeling somewhat out of place, but oddly enough, she also felt safe here—a sense of peace she couldn’t quite explain.

Just then, the front door opened.

Was Leonard back already?

Marguerite looked up, her eyes flicking toward the entryway.

But instead of Leonard, a woman stepped inside. Her skin was pale as porcelain, and she wore a fitted black dress. Dark brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in elegant waves, and she carried herself with a quiet, striking confidence.

Marguerite froze, startled. She’d heard Leonard never brought women home—so who was this?

“Wilma!” the woman called as she walked inside.

“Right here, ma’am!” Wilma hurried over, bowing slightly as she offered a pair of slippers.

Marguerite took a closer look and realized just how much Leonard resembled her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Murphy,” Marguerite greeted politely.

The woman’s gaze softened as soon as she noticed the bruise on Marguerite’s face. She reached out, touching her cheek gently, her voice thick with concern. “Oh, honey, what happened to your face? Are you hurt? That son of mine—I’ve told him a hundred times to take good care of you, and yet you’re here with an injury. Just wait till he gets home—I’ll have a word with him!”

It was immediately clear that Leonard’s mother was nothing like him—she was friendly, open, and refreshingly candid.

Marguerite blushed, a little overwhelmed by the attention. “It wasn’t his fault—I was just a little clumsy. Please don’t blame him.”

Mrs. Murphy shook her head, undeterred. “If you’re hurt, that’s on him. And what’s more, how could he leave you to eat alone? Honestly, I need to have a serious talk with that boy.”

Marguerite quickly interjected, “He had to go to work, and I really don’t mind eating by myself. Please don’t be upset with him—he’s already done so much.”

Mrs. Murphy just shook her head, but her eyes were gentle as she looked at Marguerite, clearly already seeing her as family.