Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 832

Staying at Spencer Residence was unsafe. Della had to get out of there fast.

Just as she moved to the door, Helen's eerie voice rang out, "Della, where are you going?"

Everyone turned their attention to Della at once, especially her right leg, which had yet to be put down.

Della felt embarrassed by the attention and was forced to put her leg down and turn around to face Helen.

"I'm n-not going anywhere." Della stammered, not daring to look into Helen's eyes, "I-I was about to return next door to finish my meal. It's not good to waste food, right?"

Even she wouldn't believe such a lame excuse, so she could only force a smile to ease the embarrassment.

"Wow, Ms. Boston knows the importance of being frugal," Ambrose mocked sarcastically.

Della bit her lip and shot Ambrose a menacing glare. Why couldn't he just remain silent?

Such provocation didn't affect Ambrose in the least, and he didn't even spare her a glance.

Despite being angry, Della was clear about who the truly terrifying person here was. She quickly withdrew her gaze and turned to face Helen respectfully.

"It's good to not waste food," Helen said softly, "but you're exhausted today, where are you going to sleep?"

Not daring to express her desire to sleep at Chandler's place, Della thought for a while and said, "I'll sleep with Madam Moore."

"Are you sure?" Helen asked. She seemed worried.

Della's heart almost jumped out of her chest when she met Helen's eyes, making her change her mind swiftly.

"I'm more comfortable with my own bed. I'll sleep at home. You don't have to worry about me, Helen."

Only then did Helen's expression soften a little, and she feigned politeness. "That's not good. Uncle Maurice might think that we've mistreated you if you return right after coming here."

"No, no." Della was so anxious that she almost burst into tears and fell to her knees.

Ambrose went up obliviously and patted his suit, confidently asking, "My lady, how's my suit? I had it custom-made. It's an old Furinese brand, and it fits me well."

Helen glanced at it impatiently. "How many years ago did you have it custom-made?"

"Three, four, five, six, seven… eight years ago," Ambrose answered, a little embarrassed.

It wasn't that he didn't want to wear it. It was just that the scar on his face didn't go well with the outfit.

The suit had been custom-made a long time ago, and it was unexpected that it would be put away for eight years.

"It's so old-fashioned," Helen commented straightforwardly, "Your camouflage is better than it."

"Alright, I'll get changed now. Stop talking about it."

He would totally lose his confidence if she continued.