Flash Marriage: Pampered by Mr.Bigshot
Chapter 39: The Fiancée Comes Home (Extra Update)

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: The Fiancée Comes Home (Extra Update)

Nia Mitchell kicked off her slippers and placed both feet on the sofa, sitting there with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Alright, then I’ll wait for you."

Maxwell Peary chuckled in agreement, soothing her with a few more words before ending the call.

After stowing his phone, Maxwell Peary looked at the others.

"What are you looking at? Carry on."

Alan Morgan wore an excited grin. Hmm, something’s definitely up, he thought.

Does Maxwell Peary have a daughter now? Look at him, coaxing her like that. Such a tough guy showing his tender side.

TSK TSK.

"Boss? What was that all about? Care to share with us?"

Alan Morgan, utterly fearless, sidled closer, his face a mask of curiosity.

"Are you that idle?"

Maxwell Peary shot him a death glare. Alan Morgan shivered. Alright, the boss hasn’t changed. He’s still as... as cold as ever.

"Not at all! I’m very busy."

An icy aura emanated from Maxwell Peary as he abruptly stood up.

"You guys handle the rest."

With that, he tossed his gun aside.

To hell with shipments and turf. Holding a cold gun is nothing compared to holding my wife. My wife is the most important thing in the world.

"Boss, what are you doing?" Alan Morgan stood up and chased after him for a couple of steps. Is he just going to bail because I was a little nosy?

"Going home."

Maxwell Peary waved his hand, straightened his suit, and left the dilapidated warehouse. He got into his flashy car and sped off, quickly disappearing into the night.

「Meanwhile, at Royal Bay Villa, a battle between the real and fake Mrs. Peary was unfolding.」

Nia Mitchell stood by the doorframe, frozen in the same stiff posture she’d had when opening the door, looking at the arrogant young lady in front of her who didn’t even deign to meet her gaze.

"May I ask...?"

"Are you Maxwell’s new servant?"

Belinda Swan wrinkled her nose in disgust. Impatiently, seeing Nia still standing in the doorway, she shoved her new LV handbag into Nia’s arms.

"Maxwell is very busy with work; he definitely doesn’t have time to properly train you servants. Don’t you even know to take my bag and welcome me in?"

Nia Mitchell, momentarily stunned, stepped aside, clearing a path. She watched as Belinda Swan strode in as proudly as a rooster.

"Get me a glass of lemon water. Is Maxwell home?"

Belinda Swan said this and was about to head upstairs to Maxwell Peary’s bedroom when Nia Mitchell finally snapped back to her senses. Nia dropped the handbag she was holding and blocked Belinda’s way.

"Who are you? You can’t just go upstairs as you please."

Nia Mitchell stood her ground. She was the mistress of this house; she absolutely had to have some backbone and not let herself be bullied in her own home.

Belinda Swan gave a cold smirk. It’s hard to believe a mere servant girl actually dared to shout at me.

"What’s your name? You don’t need to come to work tomorrow. No, get out of here right now. You’re fired!"

Nia Mitchell raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed in anger.

"If anyone’s getting out, it’s you!"

Belinda Swan was taken aback, her hands trembling with anger.

"I’m Maxwell’s fiancée, the future Mrs. Peary! What on earth do you think you are?"

Nia Mitchell’s eyes widened. Fiancée?

If this woman in front of me is Maxwell Peary’s fiancée, then what am I?

This is ridiculous!

"You’re the future Mrs. Peary? HA! Are you trying to fool a three-year-old?"

Nia Mitchell rolled her eyes. She’s the one who’s the newly-minted Mrs. Peary; the marriage certificate is still warm!

Belinda Swan, fuming, walked over to the coffee table, grabbed her handbag, and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

"Take this money and get out of this villa! You’re fired."

Nia Mitchell didn’t even look at her. "I’m not a maid."

Belinda Swan frowned. If she’s not a maid, what is she then?

A mistress?

Belinda Swan snorted. She stood there with her arms crossed, smiling as she arrogantly sized Nia Mitchell up from head to toe.

I didn’t realize girls so young these days could be so terribly factional, lacking even the most basic morals. How pathetic. She’s only with Maxwell for his money, isn’t she? "How much do you want? I’ll give it to you."

In Belinda Swan’s mind, Nia Mitchell had already been categorized as one of those women who sell their bodies for money. She just hadn’t expected that Maxwell Peary—a man at the apex of the pyramid—would have such peculiar taste in women.