Return of the Crowned Heiress novel Chapter 513

To be honest, Felicia regretted it the moment she said those words.

She didn't know what happened in Maurice's past to make him the way he was. She didn't know what kind of harm his father, stepmother, or siblings had inflicted on him. As an outsider, she had no right to judge him.

What drove her to lash out like that was her anger over Carmen's death. Whether directly or indirectly, her death was tied to Maurice. Felicia had let her emotions take the wheel, and the words came slipping out.

But words were like spilled milk—there was no taking back.

Maurice's expression darkened in an instant. His brown eyes glimmered with an unnatural light, the red mole by his eye standing out like a drop of blood on snow. His handsome face was stone-cold as he gave off an air of hostility around him.

At the same time, all of his men turned their furious glares on Felicia. Even the four who had once been assigned to protect her looked ready to draw blood.

The air around them went still, making the atmosphere feel all the more oppressive.

Felicia didn't move, but internally, she sighed. For a fleeting moment, she had seen something in Maurice's eyes—an ache that mirrored her own.

Yet no matter how brief it was and how well he had kept it hidden, in that brief instance, Felicia realized they shared a similar kind of pain.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Maurice burst into laughter. It was loud, unrestrained, and jarring like he was trying to drown out the echoes of his own bitterness.

Despite the laugh sounding wild and unrestrained, to Felicia's ears, it carried an undertone of emptiness. It was as if he was mocking not just her but himself too.

She felt a headache coming on. She wasn't the type to be confrontational. If anyone knew how much words could wound, it was her. Sometimes, a few careless sentences cut deeper than any knife.

She wanted to make things right but didn't know how.

While she was still mulling it over, Maurice seemed to have returned to his usual self. The mask was back in place, smooth and unshakeable, leaving no trace of the vulnerability she glimpsed earlier.

Felicia froze, caught off guard. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly.

The man before her was Maurice Glovers, a man known for his ruthlessness, unpredictability, and the kind of madness that made him downright terrifying. When did he start making requests this reasonable?

Regardless, she wasn't about to question her luck.

Felicia quickly pulled herself together, worried he might change his mind. She stepped forward, pulled out a first aid kit from her backpack, and started cleaning his wounds.

She had to admit that Myra had done quite a number on him. A woman's nails could be as sharp as knives when she was desperate, and this was proof. The scratches had torn through his skin, leaving five deep, bloody lines. Dirt had gotten into the cuts, making the wounds look even worse.

Treating them meant getting close—really close.