The British Heartthrob’s Discarded Mistress Read Online Marian Tee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
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Although cited studies do show the possibility of parents passing on criminal tendencies to their children, this theory – and it is still a theory – cannot be considered applicable due to several fallacies and facts that the aforementioned news agencies had misrepresented to the public.

After listing the factual errors committed by the tabloids that had chosen to target Rathe’s mother, Mary moved on to the second half of the article. It was the part she dreaded the most since this time, she was determined to defend the Wellesley family. But she also knew she had to do so without appearing biased in their favor.

The press must be reminded that their power to publish and distribute content to the masses is always accompanied with responsibilities – duties that they are expected to exercise with honor and integrity.

Imagine, for instance, if the target of their recent work had been a minor. Imagine the potential repercussions when a child ends up reading such content. Whether or not their insinuations may turn out to be the truth is immaterial. What must be highlighted here is that their assumptions are at present both invalid and inaccurate. If there is any smidgen of doubt, then they must exercise due diligence and refrain from publication until they have gathered sufficient evidence to defend and prove their claims.

Innocent until proven guilty is the maxim today’s civilized society supposedly lives by. This author believes in it, and so she respectfully withholds judgment from those who have ended up intentionally and unintentionally persecuting the Wellesleys through print. If only they had chosen to act similarly.

To conclude, this author would like to leave the readers with a simple and short message:

Warren and Alyssa Wellesley only exercised their individual rights and personal freedom when they chose to love each other and become united in matrimony.

I, Mary Ashton, am also exercising my individual right and personal freedom when I chose to love His Grace, Rathe Wellesley, the Fifth Duke of Flanders.

Mary exhaled when she finished writing the last word. This was it then. If she chose to publish this, it was no different to completely opening her life to the public.

Biting her lip, she slowly reached for her phone. She knew she was being pathetic, but she couldn’t help it.

She dialed Rathe’s number and her heart sank when it started to ring...and continue ringing. But just when she was about to lose all hope of hearing Rathe’s voice, she heard a telltale click. It was the sound of her call pushing through, and Mary held her breath.

“Hello?” The duke’s low, crisp tone traveled through the connection like a melody she had missed hearing. For a moment, all she could do was bite her trembling lip, knowing she needed time to control her emotions.

Finally, she said, “H-hello.”

The shaky note in Mary’s voice had Rathe’s fingers tightening around his phone.

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

This girl was not right for him, the same way he was not right for her. When they were together, they only ended up causing each other pain. But even so, Rathe heard himself ask, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew Rathe was aware of it.

“A-and you? H-how are you doing?”

“Still doing damage control.”

The words caused Mary’s gaze to stray to her laptop. Its screen displayed different pictures of him and Camilla going out every night in the past week. Did that mean that she, Mary, was the damage and the other woman was his way of putting an end to it?

Mary blurted out, “With Camilla?”

The moment she mentioned the other woman’s name, Mary knew it had been a huge mistake, and her fears were realized when Rathe asked icily, “Exactly what do you mean by that?” At that moment, nothing would have made Rathe admit the truth: that Camilla somehow always ended up being in the same area he was, and Rathe had felt courtesy-bound to keep her company over dinner.

At Rathe’s tone, Mary mumbled, “Nothing.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Rathe drawled.

Rathe’s sneering tone made Mary cringe. It was her first time to hear him sound so nasty, and she shook her head, a part of her wanting to deny what was happening.

“Let’s not talk about it, please, I’m sorry—-”

“Actually, let’s. You started it, so now finish it.” The silence that followed grated on him, feeding on his stress. It made him feel defensive, like a damn bully, and he despised that even more. He said grittily, “Do you know that I’ve been working twenty damn hours each day since I came here—-”

Mary protested, “I didn’t say you weren’t—-”

“—-so I guess I’m deeply sorry,” Rathe apologized sarcastically, “that my mistress doesn’t believe I have the right to relax a little by enjoying dinner with an old friend. Someone I have known practically my entire life and—-” He stopped speaking in time.


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