CHAPTER 909. RULE #1 The Brotherhood of the Tight-Fisted

Leon had to turn around, take a deep breath, and run out of there, because even with Mariel’s sweetness, he believed she was perfectly capable of throwing some bills at him to make him dance. So, he went to pay an obscene amount of money, then took her out to eat, and by nighttime, their return to the castle was triumphant.

Mariel was loaded with bags—it was her personal parade, after all—one that crossed the main hall just so the countess could see it properly.

Lady Freda shot her a look that could have frozen hell itself, and Mariel stopped right in front of the door, displaying her purchases.

"Good evening, dear mother-in-law," she said with an angelic smile, and Freda’s teacup trembled slightly on its saucer.

"What is the meaning of this?" the countess demanded, rising from her chair with exasperating dignity. "How dare you make my son waste his money on such… frivolities?!"

Mariel blinked, feigning surprise.

"Frivolities?"