How the Ice King Became my Doting Billionaire Husband

Keira was well aware of the relationship between Stuart and Morwenna.

Last time, Morwenna had casually introduced Stuart as her husband.

Even the caregiver was arranged by Stuart.

As Morwenna pondered silently, she offered a gentle smile and said, “Oh, I just came to check on you. How’s your leg healing these days?” ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

Instantly, Keira shifted her focus, “The doctor said it’s almost there. I should be getting the cast off in a few days. If I push a bit harder in physio, I should be back on my feet by my brother’s birthday bash.”

“That’s great to hear. But don’t push yourself too hard. Health comes first.”

Morwenna knew she could help with the caregiver issue, but she was hesitant to comment on the situation with Keira’s parents.

If she were to recklessly confront them and storm off, the one who’d end up hurt would be Keira.

After spending a little more time with Keira, Morwenna left, sighing deeply. She had been meaning to ask someone about her relationship with Stuart, but the only friend she knew here was Keira.

As Morwenna unlocked a shared bike to leave, a woman in a sleek black business dress stopped her with a polite smile, “Excuse me, are you Ms. Winslet?”

Morwenna eyed her warily. These unexpected encounters seldom meant anything good.

Seeing Morwenna’s guarded expression, the woman continued with a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, Ms. Winslet. My mistress just wishes to see you.”

“Who is your mistress?”

“Greta.”

Instantly, Morwenna remembered.

Greta Irons, from that networking event, was there for Stuart.

Morwenna knew the reach of these affluent folks. Finding her here was no surprise. But why did Greta want to see her?

“What does she want with me?” Morwenna asked cautiously.

“Nothing serious, just a chat.”

Morwenna thought for a moment. She had no reason to dislike Ms. Irons. Unlike Adelaide, who she didn't click with right away, Greta seemed easy to get along with and well-mannered.

“Alright, I’ll meet her. Lead the way,” Morwenna agreed.

The corporate woman was about to suggest getting into a car, but Morwenna had already mounted the shared bike, ready to follow wherever she led.

They proceeded slowly, the black car in front and Morwenna on her bike, easily keeping pace.

Soon, the car stopped.

“Ms. Winslet, please come in. My mistress is waiting inside the café.”

“Sure, just let me park the bike.”

The corporate woman was momentarily at a loss for words. Ms. Winslet was nothing like she had imagined. What made her so special to deserve Greta’s attention?

After parking the bike properly, Morwenna entered the café and quickly spotted Greta in a flowing black gown, her wavy hair cascading down her back, exuding an effortless elegance and allure.

Men might find Greta intimidating, but women would surely admire her.

“Ms. Winslet, what would you like to drink? Coffee, perhaps?” Greta greeted warmly.

“I’m not much for coffee. It’s too bitter for me. I’ll have some juice instead,” Morwenna replied, recalling the one time she tried coffee at Hetfield's Homestead and didn’t care for it at all.