The wrong Woman novel by Ginny Not Genie novel Chapter 511

The first rays of morning sunlight seeped through the window, painting the room with a gentle glow.

Mila was still in slumber when she heard the door creak open. Startled awake, she slowly rose, her gaze landing on an unexpected visitor.

Fenna stood at the doorway; her initial surprise quickly clouded with dismay. "Why are you sleeping in Nate's room?" she snapped.

Mila clenched her fists slowly, her irritation mounting as Fenna's intrusion disrupted the peace of the early morning. She wondered why Fenna would know the passcode to Nathan's room.

"Why shouldn't I stay in my husband's room?" Mila retorted, her tone tinged with annoyance.

With a grim expression, Fenna rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a cloth and setting to work on the chair and cabinet surfaces.

Mila watched her with confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, puzzled.

Fenna let out a disdainful snort, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "You don't know how to clean, but can't you tell what I'm doing?"

Taking a deep breath to rein in her frustration, Mila asked calmly, "Why are you cleaning Nate's room?"

Fenna straightened her posture, and her demeanor oozed superiority as she looked down at Mila. "Wanda, I'm Nate's assistant. For the past six months, I've attended to every aspect of his life and work. Unlike you…"

Mila's expression darkened further. "What?" she demanded.

Fenna dismissed her with a disdainful glance. "What else have you done other than causing him trouble? Have you ever cooked him a meal or done his laundry? Or even fetch him a glass of water?

"You can't help him at work nor take care of his daily life. You're utterly useless. All you know is to be jealous and stir up trouble in our friendship."

Mila felt a pang in her stomach, gritting her teeth as she took another deep breath.

Ignoring Mila's request, Fenna finished cleaning the table and proceeded to the wardrobe.

She arranged Nathan's clothes by color neatly, from dark to light, and upon spotting a wrinkled shirt, she retrieved an ironing board and smoothed out the fabric expertly.

Observing Fenna's skilled actions, Mila knew this wasn't her first time performing such tasks here.

Mila wondered if other women would tolerate someone admiring their husband invading his private space boldly. But she found it deeply unsettling. She felt increasingly uncomfortable and irritated.

"Ms. Hudson," Mila snapped, her tone edged with anger. "Don't you understand me?"

Unfazed, Fenna replied casually, "If you can't treat him well, don't stop me from doing so."