Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 10

Marguerite. She was really back. This wasn’t a dream.

The moment he saw that profile picture, George had told his assistant to get out and had driven to Theobald’s house himself. As one of Theobald’s primary investors, getting his address was simple.

The villa gates were shut tight, concealing everything within, and the not-knowing was an agonizing torment.

Reason and emotion were at war inside him.

Reason told him he was mistaken. Marguerite was dead. She had been dead for eleven years.

But his heart and his gut screamed that the girl in the photo was her.

Theobald was Marguerite’s brother; it was perfectly logical for him to be shopping with her.

But how was it possible? How could someone who died eleven years ago just reappear?

The conflict was tearing him apart, making him feel like he was suffocating. He wanted confirmation but couldn’t think of a way to get it without causing a scene. He couldn't just storm into Theobald's house. He was terrified of frightening her, and equally terrified of being wrong, of facing that familiar crushing disappointment yet again.

For eleven years, he had chased ghosts, seeing her face in countless strangers. Any slight resemblance would send him across the country, sometimes across the world, on a fool’s errand.

Her body was never found. It was always possible she had survived, that she was alive somewhere in the world.

He had been disappointed too many times. His heart had broken too many times.

He had been parked outside, paralyzed by indecision, until just now, when he found Theobald’s number and made the call.

And the call had confirmed it.

Marguerite was there.

If she wasn’t, Theobald would have called him crazy or told him she was long dead. He wouldn’t have instinctively asked who was calling and what they wanted with her.

That conclusion alone was enough to make George’s pulse race.

But then, as he hung up and looked back at the villa, a small, blurry silhouette appeared on the second-floor balcony.

His chest seized, feeling as if it might explode.

The face that had haunted his dreams for over a decade was there, not far from him.

Less than fifty yards away.

An overwhelming wave of ecstasy crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

It wasn't until he took a small knife from the glove compartment and sliced open his palm that the sharp sting of pain brought him back to a state of fragile control.

Sitting at the dining table, picking at the breakfast Anna had delivered, Marguerite answered wearily, “Couldn't sleep. I finally dozed off around five this morning, then woke up again.”

Theobald remembered her sleep issues. He sat down across from her. “Should we try buying a bed exactly like your old one?”

Marguerite shook her head. “It’s not the bed, it’s the place. Do you know who bought our old house? Can you contact them and see if they’re willing to sell it back?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably changed hands several times by now.” The old house held too many memories; Theobald had deliberately avoided keeping track of it.

Anna chimed in. “I’ll look into it today.”

Marguerite leaned affectionately against Anna’s shoulder. “Thanks, Jess, you’re the best.”

Anna’s cheeks flushed slightly. She had assumed that Pinecrest High’s campus queen and academic superstar would be aloof and unapproachable. She hadn't expected Marguerite to be so bright and vivacious, so instantly likable.

She peeled an egg for Marguerite before beginning her daily briefing of Theobald’s schedule.

After she finished, Theobald asked her, “Did you see what was on Twitter yesterday?”

Anna glanced at Marguerite.

Marguerite raised an eyebrow, looking at Theobald with a cool expression. “I’m the one who told Anna to leave it alone.”