Marrying my secret admirer after my husband's fake death novel Chapter 123

Especially when it was someone like Justin.

Sure enough, Justin’s expression grew dark and menacing as he shot Henson a sharp glare.

Henson, for his part, couldn’t have cared less. He just shrugged, still wearing that lazy, devil–may–care grin.

But Edith was clearly getting anxious.

She hurried to explain, “Mr. Sheffield, Mr. Hawksley isn’t some kind of sycophant–he’s certainly not my sycophant…”

She didn’t even manage to finish before Justin cut in, his tone blunt and unyielding. “And what’s so wrong with being a sycophant? I’m Edith’s sycophant. Didn’t you know? Sometimes, when you give your all, you end up with everything you ever wanted.”

Edith figured he was just lashing out, saying whatever came to mind because he was so furious.

Henson just whistled, shaking his head. “Look at you…”

Sensing the tension rising, Thorpe quickly changed the subject. “I heard the drinks here are top–notch. We all chipped in for this party, so shouldn’t we make the most of it before Justin finishes it all off himself?” The group started debating what to order, but Justin leaned in, voice soft. “You look tired. I’ll take you home.”

Edith hadn’t slept well the night before, and after such a stressful day, she was running on empty. She’d planned to stay and keep Justin company with his friends, but after a moment’s hesitation, she realized that if they started getting rowdy, things might get awkward with her there.

So she nodded. “Alright.”

She stood up, smoothing her skirt. “Justin, stay here and entertain your friends. I can get myself home.”

1/3

14:30

Chapter za

Justin’s brow furrowed–there was no way he’d let Edith leave alone.

He stood up as well. “I’ll drive you.”

Edith didn’t protest further. As they were leaving, Thorpe suddenly called out, as if remembering something important.

“Justin, I brought some ointment for bruises and bumps. Remember to use it.”

Justin paused, a bit surprised, but nodded. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t until they were in the car that Edith, eyes half closed, finally asked, “You’re hurt? Where?”

Justin just waved it off. “I slipped yesterday, that’s all.”

Edith immediately straightened, concern written all over her face. “Where did you fall? Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Seeing how worried she was, Justin couldn’t help but smile, though he tried to hide it.

He kept his tone casual. “It’s nothing. Just scraped my ankle.”

Ignoring everything else, Edith bent forward and rolled up the leg of his

trousers.

But this wasn’t just a scrape.

The sight made her heart clench.

Without another word, she rummaged through her bag for the ointment Thorpe had given them. Unable to hold back her worry, she muttered, “This is way worse than what I have. Why didn’t you take care of it sooner?”

The scratch on her arm was nothing compared to the mess of his ankle.

Justin watched her kneeling beside him, tending to his injury, and felt a strange mix of delight–and embarrassment.

He had to admit, from this angle, things felt a little too intimate.

14:30

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