My Mistress Became My Wife (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 87

Though there were easily over ten people in the spacious lobby, it was as silent as if no one were there at all. Everyone watched Harold and Frederick, holding their breaths as the two engaged in a tense psychological standoff.

It was already fascinating enough that Harold Brayden, the Empire’s hero, was clashing with Frederick Benjamin, the owner of this trading company—but judging by the atmosphere, it seemed to be a love triangle, making it all the more thrilling.

When Frederick provoked Harold by bringing up princes, the spectators’ curiosity and interest escalated even further. Everyone stared, eager to see how Harold would respond.

Lily was no different. The only distinction was that her eyes brimmed not with anticipation, but with worry and anxiety—and not for herself, but for Harold.

Who was worrying about whom? A derisive smirk curled Harold’s lips. To him, Frederick Benjamin was no more than an insect—pathetic and insignificant, incapable of leaving even a single scratch on his body, no matter how violently it flailed.

But Lily was different. Every attack from Frederick left real wounds on her, scars that would never fade and would torment her for a long time to come. She was already suffering the greatest loss right now, yet she worried about someone else—and that irked Harold.

What bothered him most, however, was Frederick Benjamin himself. It infuriated him that Frederick held Lily’s greatest vulnerability—the life or death of her mother—as leverage, treating her like a possession and acting however he pleased. But what truly grated on Harold’s nerves was the surname and title attached to Frederick’s name.

Frederick Benjamin—the Viscount Benjamin and husband of Liliana Benjamin.

It disgusted Harold that Frederick pretended ignorance about why Harold had come here, even though he clearly knew it wasn’t coincidence. Frederick seemed to anticipate that Harold would either be flustered into silence or come up with some absurd excuse—but that was nothing more than a ridiculous delusion.

Harold wasn’t flustered in the slightest. On the contrary, he only grew more irritated—so much so that he wanted to wring Frederick Benjamin’s neck right then and there.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—he cared more about Lily’s dignity than his own anger, which allowed him to hold back.

“It couldn’t possibly be coincidence.”

Harold replied, his expression unchanged from before as he looked at Frederick.

“Everything is an inevitability I’ve created through my own efforts. Relying on mere chance and hoping for a favorable outcome simply isn’t my style.”

“Oh, then we’re quite alike. I, too, prefer earning things through effort rather than relying on luck.”

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