Flash-Married My Mysterious Mogul Husband-2
Chapter 3

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As Freya stood with her back to Helene, she enthusiastically continued her gossip. 

“Back when Helene was in school, something was happening between her and a male teacher. I heard that he even helped her write her graduation thesis.” 

“Well, it’s all because of her pretty face,” the receptionist sarcastically added. 

“Pretty? Come on, she is just coquettish and always tries to seduce men,” Freya said, feeling jealous. 

“Well, she must have some skills. I heard her boyfriend is quite handsome too. Wasn’t he your classmate?” 

“Hmph!” Freya bragged a little, “Diego is my boyfriend now.” 

“When did that happen?” The receptionist’s curiosity was piqued. “So, you’re saying Helene got dumped?” 

“Why do you sound so happy about it?” Suddenly, Helene’s voice cut through, surprising the two of them. 

“What the hell? I felt scared! You are not making a sound while walking.” Freya rolled her eyes at Helene. 

“Freya, instead of wasting your time gossiping, maybe you should help Diego send out a few more resumes? Otherwise, with just your salary, you can’t afford to support him.” 

Although Helene and Freya were classmates, Helene had 

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become the financial manager while Freya was just a junior cashier. There was a massive difference in their salaries. 

Helene had to work three jobs, even part–time flyer distribution, and modeling for an advertising company, to cover Diego’s extravagant expenses – he splurged money on games, luxury items, and clubbing. 

But Helene had no intention of warning Freya about this. 

At this moment, Freya still thought she had struck gold. Hearing Helene’s sarcastic remark, she believed Helene was simply envious of her. 

With a sneer, Freya said, “Well, that’s none of your business. Bamford Group has already notified Diego for an interview. Have you heard of Bamford Group? It’s a huge company that offers Diego a monthly salary of 50,000 bucks.” 

Freya held out five fingers, waving them in front of Helene. “Envious, aren’t you?” 

“Childish!” Helene scoffed, walking around Freya and returning to her office. 

When she saw a large pile of unprocessed financial documents on her desk, Helene asked her assistant. 

“Isn’t this the cashier’s job? Why is it given to me?” 

“Mr. Allen said Freya hasn’t been feeling well these days, so he asked you to handle it,” the assistant replied. 

“Again?” Helene angrily slammed the folder on her desk, causing the receipts to scatter everywhere. 

This wasn’t the first time. Helene had no idea that Freya was 

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so dishonest. Now, she realized how foolish she had been, treating Freya like a close friend only to be deceived. 

The entire day, Helene got so busy that she didn’t even have time to drink a sip of water, let alone eat. 

At night, when she got home, she settled for a simple, instant 

noodle meal. 

Then she made a video call to her grandmother, unaware of her cancer diagnosis. Helene casually mentioned her condition and advised her to follow the doctor’s advice, 

assuring her not to worry about money. 

Helene’s grandmother knew Helene was busy with work and tried to comfort her, telling her not to worry about her illness. 

Helene wanted to tell her grandmother about her marriage, but the words stuck in her throat. 

The following day, Helene felt a bit feverish and achy all over, so she decided to take a sick day. 

By noon, she felt slightly better and started packing her things, planning to move to the Bamford Family’s residence in the evening. 

The thought of sharing a bed with a stranger made Helene inexplicably nervous. 

In the evening, she grabbed her suitcase and personal belongings, heading to the address Carlisle had sent her. 

No. 88, The Highrise Hideaway. 

The Highrise Hideaway was located in a slum area, narrow and cluttered with bicycles, electric tricycles, and various items 

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strewn about. 

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Helene dragged her suitcase, stumbling along the way, asking for directions but unable to find the exact location. 

Gradually, she felt like she was lost. 

As she walked further, the environment gradually improved – cleaner and quieter, with wider roads and private garages. 

Where on earth was No. 88? 

Several people told her to keep going inside, but she still couldn’t find it even after walking almost to the end. 

Helene had no choice but to call Carlisle repeatedly, but no one answered… 

And then his phone was suddenly switched off. 

Helene felt both anxious and angry. What was wrong with this guy? 

He told her to move in tonight, and it was OK if he couldn’t come to pick her up, but now, she was lost, and he wouldn’t even answer the phone. 

Helene sat down on the stone steps beside a green belt, feeling dizzy. She didn’t know how much time had passed when a dazzling car light shone towards her. 

She looked up and saw Carlisle, backlit by the car light, getting out of the vehicle. 

Helene tried to stand up, but her legs had gone numb from squatting for too long. She stumbled forward as she tried to get up. 

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Surprisingly, she didn’t hit the ground. Carlisle’s strong arms caught her just in time. 

“Thank you,” Helene said, feeling embarrassed. 

“Why didn’t you go in?” 

“I didn’t know which one was No. 88.” 

“You’re the one who called me just now?” Carlisle had been in a meeting with the executives and had shut off his phone due to constant notifications. 

“Yeah, why didn’t you answer the phone?” Helene was somewhat annoyed. This guy was quite good at playing dumb. 

“Let’s go inside,” Carlisle didn’t explain further. Instead, he took out the keys and walked towards the house across from 

Helene. 

This was No. 88? Helene glanced at the doorplate half–hidden by tree branches and confirmed it was indeed the right place. 

Carlisle opened the door, and a woman in her fifties came out. 

“Matilda, is Grandpa asleep?” 

“Not yet. He said he was waiting for you.” 

Carlisle strode inside without noticing Helene struggling to drag her suitcase behind him. 

The steps were high, and despite using all her strength, Helene couldn’t even pull herself up a single step. 

Just then, a large hand reached out and took the suitcase 

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from Helene’s hand. 

She was slightly moved. 

In Helene’s memory, Diego had never helped her carry anything. 

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He didn’t lift a finger even when they moved out last time. She was hauling and carrying seven or eight heavy boxes upstairs alone. 

Despite that, Diego still complained about her laziness, saying she just dumped everything without organizing while he was playing games, demanding she order takeout. 

“Aren’t you coming in?” 

Carlisle’s displeased voice interrupted Helene’s thoughts. 

She stepped into the house. 

The yard wasn’t large but neat and tidy, with various potted plants lined against the wall. 

“Ah!” Helene suddenly exclaimed. 

She was too busy looking around and accidentally stepped on some pebbles, nearly stumbling. 

Carlisle turned back. 

Helene awkwardly waved her hand, “I’m fine.” 

Carlisle glanced at the pebbles on the ground, walked over, and kicked them aside before extending his hand. 

His hand had well–defined knuckles and a slight callus, the 

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mark of regular exercise. 

Helene was puzzled. 

Carlisle pursed his lips. 

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The next moment, he reached out and took Helene’s hand. 

The warmth in his palm made Helene’s heart skip a beat, sending a tingling sensation to her heart. 

Carlisle handed the suitcase to Matilda Wilson, then led Helene to his grandfather’s room. 

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