Mr. Wright and Mrs. Right by Minerva Sowle

Chapter 224 You Look Like Someone
Cedrick held his breath while sneaking a glance at Gwendolyn.
She sat on the couch by the window with her back facing him, sipping red wine.
He clenched his fists so tightly that they felt clammy. Could she be drunk by any chance?
Would she be as gentle to me as two nights ago?
“I admit I don’t know you well, yet you still plotted to get engaged with me. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
Cedrick’s hand was on the doorknob when he felt his heart drop.
Gwendolyn’s speech was coherent and paced regularly. It was clear she’d barely imbibed any wine and was still sober.
That meant that he would be dead meat tonight.
Cedrick still wasn’t ready to face her.
He stalked toward the window and considered making a run for it.
Gwendolyn’s languid voice sounded. “Old Mr. Jenson has instructed the windows to be locked. It is also fitted with bulletproof
glass and can’t be shattered. We’re just going to have a nice little chat. I wonder what you’re so afraid of?”
He had no chance of escape.
Cedrick subconsciously touched his face to confirm that his mask was still on. Gwendolyn couldn’t possibly recognize him that
easily.
He cleared his throat. “You must be joking, Ms. Gwendolyn. We aren’t acquainted at all. I decided to get engaged with you
merely because the fortune teller mentioned that we’d get along well together.”
Gwendolyn placed her wine glass down and turned to face him. “I’ve told you before that there’s someone I—”
She was cut off abruptly.
The man who stood by the window in a well-fitting suit gave off an aloof aristocratic air.

The sheer sight of him flooded her with a bone-deep sense of familiarity.
Her expression froze as she carefully scrutinized the man from head to toe.
Cedrick’s heart was in his throat when he noticed the change in her expression.
“Mr. Jenson, you really look like someone.”
Gwendolyn got to her feet with her brows furrowed and gingerly approached Cedrick.
“Ms. Harris, you must be mistaken. We’ve never met,” His eyes were glacial as he uttered in a hoarse voice.
Gwendolyn’s eyes reddened as she met his familiar eyes.
Her hand shot out without forewarning to grab his suit collar and press him against the glass window.
“Are you taking me for an idiot, Maverick? Do you think I won’t be able to recognize you just because you’re wearing a mask?
You might fool everyone, but I can tell it’s you from your eyes and mannerisms!”
Cedrick felt his entire body go numb.
Should I come clean?
Will Gwendolyn think that I’ve been deceiving her all along?
She hated being kept in the dark the most and had never liked him in the first place. Wouldn’t doing so compound the hatred she
bore against him, so much so that it’d be even more difficult for him to be forgiven?
“Why didn’t you come looking for me if you weren’t dead? How come you’ve taken on the identity of Cedrick? Maverick, you owe
me a much due explanation!”
Gwendolyn grabbed his collar so tightly that her hands were trembling. Her eyes swirled with shock, confusion, and fury.
“Ms. Harris, I—”
“What are you calling me?”
Gwendolyn raised her hand and curved her elbow as she swiftly landed a hard blow on his abdomen.

Cedrick’s features beneath his mask twisted in pain, and he bent down reflexively. Despite that, Gwendolyn tugged his collar and
backed him up against the window once more.
He wouldn’t retaliate as he feared that he would accidentally hurt Gwendolyn due to the disparity between their strength.
However, Gwendolyn had no such concerns.
She would whack him with all her might every single time.
Her mind had no room for reason as she stared daggers at Cedrick.
She still couldn’t get over Maverick being alive and well.
Why didn’t he look for me?
Why act like we’re strangers?
“If you refuse to tell the truth, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands!”
She reached out to snatch his mask.
Cedrick held on tightly to it. “Ms. Harris, isn’t it unbecoming of you to be so forward on our first meeting tonight?”
“What’s wrong with me touching my fiancé? Why are you so scared of me seeing your face? If you are Cedrick and not
Maverick, you should have nothing to fear!”
“I—”
Gwendolyn didn’t give him a chance to defend himself as she leveled another blow at his abdomen.
Gwendolyn swiftly ripped off his mask while he was curled up in agony.
Time seemed to stop as they looked into one another’s eyes.
Gwendolyn surveyed his face in astonishment.
Besides his eyes, the rest of his features were completely altered. He now only vaguely resembled Maverick at a glance.
Even so, his gaze and mannerisms gave him away.

He was obviously Maverick.
“Why does your face look so different? Is it because you’re wearing another mask?” Gwendolyn pinched the skin of his face and
attempted to peel off his disguise.
Cedrick kept his grip firm on her hand and said sternly, “That is because I am and have always been Cedrick Jenson!”
“I don’t believe you! Did you undergo plastic surgery? You must be delusional to think I won’t be able to recognize you because
of that! Why don’t you try switching your eyeballs instead?” She gritted her teeth seethingly.
Cedrick’s resemblance to Maverick was the only indicator on his face that they were the same person.
She recalled the severe burns and wounds from the lashings on Maverick’s back before the incident and broke free from
Cedrick’s grasp to lift his shirt.
“Ms. Harris, aren’t you taking things too fast by stripping me?”
“Shut up and turn your back to me! If you aren’t guilty, then let me inspect you!”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
Cedrick raised both of his hands and let her manhandle him.
While Gwendolyn was suspicious, she still had her reservations.
Instead of removing his clothes one by one, she loosened his shirt from his belt and lifted it along with his suit.
His broad back was instantly revealed. Its defined musculature was flawlessly smooth, with tan skin that looked exceptionally
enticing under the room’s lighting.
It was devoid of any scars. She couldn’t even make out the deep knife wound on Maverick’s waist which he sustained from
Asher while looking for her in the mountains.
Gwendolyn slowly let go of him and retreated to the bedside with unsteady feet.
She sat on the bed in a daze in total disappointment.
Her rational mind was coming back to her.

Maverick was dead. She’d witnessed the burial of his ashes.
Moreover, Maverick and Cedrick came from such contrasting family backgrounds that it was unlikely they were related.
A shot of pain went through her heart at the anguish of experiencing loss all over again.
Nevertheless, she held back her tears in front of Cedrick.
“I mistook you for someone else.”
Cedrick discreetly let out a sigh of relief and turned to face Gwendolyn, who was looking down dejectedly.
He ventured, “Ms. Harris, did you mistake me for your ex-husband? It seems like you still have feelings for him.”
Gwendolyn pursed her lips and chose to ignore him.
She stood and sat back on the couch, quaffing the remaining half bottle of red wine.
“Ms. Harris!”
Cedrick snatched the wine bottle from her. “Your body can’t take it if you continue drinking in such a way.”
“You should worry more about yourself since our wedding will be called off sooner or later.”
Gwendolyn’s expression was indifferent as she opened a new bottle of red wine.
Cedrick took hold of the bottle once more.
“Let me join you then, Ms. Harris.”
Cedrick sat on the couch opposite her. He’d just filled two full glasses of red wine when Gwendolyn downed them in the blink of
an eye.
It wasn’t enough, as she emptied the entire bottle right after.
She paid the price by ending up drunk again.
Cedrick’s heart ached as he took in her buzzed-up state. He rounded the coffee table and took the wine bottle from her hands.
“That’s enough. Let me carry you back to bed to get some rest.”

Gwendolyn didn’t struggle from his grasp as he smelled too familiar.
His scent invaded her senses, causing her mind to short-circuit.
“Mavy...”
Cedrick was about to get a towel from the bathroom to clean her face when he froze at the term of affection.
He paused for several seconds before turning back in disbelief to gaze at Gwendolyn lying in a drunken stupor on the bed.
“What did you call me?”