Mr. Villain's Lovely Wife (Izzy) novel Chapter 179

Chapter 179 

Chapter 179 

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“Women like us… We better avoid all these talks about money and properties,” Margarette said as she started brewing what looked like dried flowers and leaves. 

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The garden behind the mansion stretched wide, bordered by trimmed hedges and tall iron fencing that separated the estate from the wooded hills beyond. Stone paths cut through manicured flower beds, and a round wrought–iron table sat in the middle of the open space, partially shaded by a pergola woven with creeping vines. The early sun filtered through, casting narrow strips of light across the table. 

Izzy sat down quietly, her eyes drifting toward the rose bushes nearby. A few bees hovered lazily around the petals, and the sound of the small water fountain by the corner wall trickled steadily into the background. 

Then she turned her attention to Margarette who stood at the edge of the table, pouring hot water over a small ceramic strainer filled with dried herbs and flower petals. The steam rose gently as she watched the color begin to tint the water. 

“It’s called Blossom Dew,” she said. “Mostly hibiscus, rose hips, and lemon balm. A touch of dried apple for sweetness. I’ve had this blend imported for years.” 

Izzy nodded, her hands folded on her lap. She didn’t know why she actually agreed to accompany this woman here. She found talking about investments more interesting than flowers and stuff. 

Margarette sat down across from her, gently swirling the teapot before setting it aside. “It’s light at first. Soft. A little floral. But let it sit for a minute, and the bitterness starts to come through.” She picked up the small glass teacup and offered it to Izzy. “Like life.” 

Izzy took the cup and gave it a small sip. It was warm and smooth, slightly tangy. 

“We work hard to grow these flowers, to keep them pretty,” Margarette continued. “Prune them, shade them from too much sun. But at the end of the day, they’re still fragile. A storm could ruin the whole thing overnight.” 

Izzy didn’t answer. Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of the cup. 

“That’s what being a woman is,” Margarette said, resting back in her chair. “You learn to survive storms, but you still have to look good doing it. You can be clever, even talented, but at the end of the day…” She trailed off and looked at the distant hills. “You’ll never have the same weight as the men in the room.” 

Izzy kept her eyes forward. She didn’t argue. Not yet. 

Margarette tilted her head. “I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m saying that’s the world. You find your strength by knowing where you can move quietly. Gracefully. Without having to shout.” 

She poured herself a cup and took a sip. 

“Sometimes, power doesn’t come from winning arguments,” she added. “It comes from knowing which ones not to join.” Izzy nodded slowly and set the cup down on its saucer. “And what if you don’t want to move quietly?” 

Margarette looked at her but didn’t respond right away. 

“That’s when you’ll realize,” she said finally, “how loud the silence can get after the door closes.” 

Margarette set her cup down and rested her hands on her lap. “You’re married now, Isabella. Things change.” 

Izzy looked at her. “Like what?” 

“Like your priorities,” Margarette said. “There’s a difference between being a woman in the world and being a wife. Especially in a family like this.” 

Chapter 179 

Izzy didn’t answer right away, she poured a second cup from the pot and gave it and up the bad settled the wor The floral edge had softened and she liked it better this way 

“I don’t think marriage should erase the person you were before it Izzy v 

Margarette gave a small nod, not disagreeing, but not agreeing either. “It doesit erase. You it changes the path. A woman who keeps walking like she’s alone–she’ll eventually realize her budand it walking, beside her anym 

Izzy leaned slightly forward, her elbows resting on the table. “So what should the do instead sexy women tog wolket? 

“It’s not about stopping,” Margarette replied. “It’s about shifting Think about what kind of home you want. What Yad of K do you want with Liam. Do you really need the stress of company meetings and deadlines of being around too many men who aren’t your husband?” 

Izzy raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. 

“You’re young, yes, but stress shows. It wears down your face, your body, You can’t buy back time, lubella. Especially if you plan to become a mother one day” 

Izzy blinked. “So, that’s the trade?” 

Margarette picked up a sugar cube and dropped it gently into her cup, “It’s a choice. Pa marriage is also a day. It’s cring for your husband’s peace of mind, his reputation, his home. That’s not a weakness. That’s responsibility” 

“And Liam?” Izzy asked. “What’s his responsibility?” 

“To protect you,” Margarette answered. “To provide. To make sure you don’t have to exhaust yourself keeping up with men who will never treat you as their equal anyway. You think you’re respected when you’re working with them. But they will never look at you the same way they look at him.” 

Izzy didn’t respond. Her fingers curled around the cup again, warm and still half–full. 

Margarette added, “There’s a reason women who stay home look softer. More rested. It’s not just money. It’s peace. And peace is what keeps a marriage strong.” 

Izzy looked out at the roses again. 

“You don’t have to agree with me,” Margarette said. “But one day, you’ll see it for yourself. By then, I only hope you haven’t lost too much.” 

Margarette refilled her own cup, the soft clink of ceramic the only sound between them. When Izzy didn’t answer, Margarette continued, taking her silence as permission. 

“You know, Isabella,” she began, setting the pot down again, “about that land in Arizona…. when men bring up things like that, it’s better not to know too much.” 

Izzy turned her head slightly. “What does that mean?” 

Margarette stirred her tea. “It means they don’t want you to challenge them. They want you to admire them. Act like you’re curious. Not like you’re correcting them.” 

Izzy narrowed her eyes slightly, still holding her cup. 

Margarette went on. “Men want their ego stroked, not tested. They want to feel smart and feel like they’re in control. Even Olivier–he has his flaws, but he’s still a man. Liam is no different.” 

Izzy said nothing. Her fingers tightened on the cup just slightly. 

“Men don’t want a rival,” Margarette added. “They want a partner who follows their lead. That’s how it’s always been. You saw 

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how Olivier reacted when you spoke. He didn’t care what you said. He cared that you said it in front of everyone? 

Izzy leaned back in her chair. “You think Liam wants that? A follower?” 

Margarette folded her hands neatly in front of her. “He may not say it. He may not even realize it. But in time, he will feel it Pride is something built into them. It doesn’t matter how modern they seem.” 

Izzy didn’t look away, “So I should play dumb?” Izzy immediately recalled her late mother. Her mother never played dumb around her father. She was smart and she was not scared of showing that. 

“Not dumb,” Margarette said. “Just… softer. Ask questions. Let him explain things. Let him feel like he’s guiding you, not being corrected.” 

“And if he’s wrong?” 

“Then you smile, listen, and bring up your thoughts later. ‘In private. When it won’t embarrass him. Men remember being corrected. They don’t always remember what they were wrong about.”