Love on the Fast Track (Derek and Norah)

Chapter 508

Chapter 508:

In her imaginary world, Madeline was infallible. Norah's resistance to plagiarism was the true crime, and the fault

lay with those who failed to comply with Madeline's whims.

Clutching at any excuse that might redeem her daughter, Rhoda stood staunchly by Madeline's side, her fingers

stroking her daughter's hair with tenderness and pride. “Madeline is competitive, always striving for the best. It's

not her fault,” she declared, her voice a mix of motherly concern and fierce loyalty. In Rhoda's eyes, her

daughter was perfect, beyond reproach.

Coen'’s response, however, was not one of misguided protection, but a simmering anger directed at his

daughter's carelessness. How could she have been so sloppy in her duplicity?

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This could tarnish their own reputations as parents. As Coen pondered the lost opportunity for business

collaboration, a fire raged in his chest.

In an attempt to placate Rhoda while also distancing himself from his wife's defense of Madeline's actions, Derek

responded, “Mrs. Powell, | understand your perspective. | love Madeline. If | had known about this, | would have

protected her from any harm.” His tone attempted to exude concern and reason. To him, it was just a draft. If

Madeline liked it, why couldn't she use it?

What was the harm?

Derek’s mind raced with a litany of perceived slights at Norah's hands. He recalled how she had once refused to

give handmade sachets to his mother and sister, despite his request. What was the harm in sharing such a small

gift, especially when it wasn’t about the money?

This self-centeredness of Norah's appeared to have resurfaced today, and Derek struggled to reconcile this

stinginess with the girl he once knew. The sense of loyalty within him flared with indignation, his mind circling

around the idea that she had waited for the moment to inflict the most damage.

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He held Madeline's hand tighter, a clear sign of his allegiance. “Mr. and Mrs. Powell, please don’t worry about

Madeline,” he declared, his voice tinged with both conviction and pride. “I will protect her.”

Coen, still shaken by the day’s events, attempted to mask his lingering confusion with a reassuring smile.

“Derek, | know you will do the right thing. You are a good man. It is a shabout the potential business

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opportunity with the Morris family.”

Seizing on a potential solution, Derek leaned forward, his tone gaining a level of excitement. “It occurs to me

that if you are still searching for new business partners, perhaps | can introduce you to someone with a very

impressive background,” he suggested, his words laced with promise.

At Hancock Shooting Club, Susanna’s irritation grew with each step, the sound of footsteps behind her a

persistent reminder of the unwanted presence. “They are such pests!” she said, her voice low and filled with

distaste. “Why do they insist on sticking to us like leeches?” Her nostrils flared with irritation, the very air feeling

heavier with their presence. Susanna did not hate Spencer, but her irritation towards Amabel was not hidden, a

thorn in her side that festered the longer the woman lingered near. To Susanna, the mere act of breathing in

Amabel’s vicinity felt like a trial, one she had no patience to endure.

Sean, keenly aware of his sister's discontent, cast a brief yet reassuring glance at their unwanted shadow. “Just

ignore them,” he said. “Our tat the shooting club is ours alone, and we will not let them taint it.”