Mysterious Mrs. Pansy

“Take this money,” Florence retrieved a wad of cash from her wallet and handed it to Monica.

“If you complete your task successfully, you can rest assured that I will help you return to Pansy Group.”

“Really?” Monica’s eyes widened with hope.

Florence nodded, “Absolutely. Everything is Jane’s doing. Once she’s out of the picture, Patrick will remember you. You’ve been with Pansy Group for years. If I put in a good word for you with Patrick, you’ll be able to return.”NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Monica gritted her teeth and accepted the money. Her heart seethed with hatred, and she was ready to go to any lengths to exact her revenge on Jane.

“That’s good,” Florence said with a sinister smile. She had numerous plans to deal with Jane without getting her hands dirty. With Jane out of the picture, she believed she would become Patrick’s wife.

After Monica left, Florence contemplated for a moment and sent a message to Melissa, informing her that tomorrow morning at nine at Lover Lake, she would get to witness a great spectacle.

She knew that Melissa also despised Jane. If Monica failed to eliminate Jane tomorrow, Melissa could step in and continue the plan.

“Jane, just you wait!”

With everything set, Florence cheerfully went shopping with Erica. She was thrilled at the prospect of Jane’s impending demise and indulged in buying items she liked.

As the day grew late, Erica suggested returning home. “Florence, should we head back now?”

Florence, however, was not in a hurry. She continued shopping, even purchasing some of the latest handbags, and then finally went home with a sense of satisfaction. She got into her car, and her driver started it.

After a while, a familiar Rolls-Royce came into her view.

“Isn’t that Patrick’s car?”

Florence hadn’t seen Patrick since the day she begged her brother to take her to Pansy Group. She worried she might not have another chance to meet him. She never expected to come across him driving toward the suburbs.

“Quick, follow the car in front of us,” Florence instructed the driver.

“Yes, Miss,” he replied respectfully.

Patrick continued driving toward the suburbs, and Erica was bewildered. “Florence, where is Mr. Pansy going?”

Florence’s attention remained fixed on the man in the car ahead, although they were at a considerable distance. She could tell he still appeared cold.

Then, Florence had a thought. “What’s today’s date?”

“It’s the fifth of June,” Erica replied, sounding perplexed.

Florence fell into deep thought before saying, “If I remember correctly, today is the anniversary of Patrick’s father’s death.”

Her brother had told her that every year on this date, Patrick would visit the cemetery to pay his respects to his father.

Once he parked his car at the cemetery, Patrick walked along the winding path leading to the mountaintop.

At the summit stood a solemn tombstone, which bore the name of Patrick’s father, Bradley Pansy.

Kneeling on one knee, Patrick gazed sadly at the picture of the middle-aged man on the tombstone, bearing a resemblance to himself.

“Dad, I’m here to visit you.” Patrick’s face was marked by sorrow and appeared somewhat haggard.

When Patrick was fifteen years old, Bradley had met with a tragic incident. On that fateful day, Bradley went sailing on a cruise ship, only to encounter a storm.

The cruise ship capsized, and Bradley went missing. After seven days of searching by rescuers, Bradley’s lifeless body was discovered.

Though the world deemed it an accident, Patrick never believed it.

Bradley’s cruise ship had been manufactured by one of the world’s top companies and was designed to withstand storms. Despite the fierce winds, the ship shouldn’t have sunk so easily.

Furthermore, Bradley was a skilled sailor and an excellent swimmer. Several islands were in the vicinity of the shipwreck, and even if the cruise ship had sunk, he could have reached one of those islands.

With his exceptional swimming skills, he could have easily reached safety.

How could he have drowned? Back then, Mike had also suspected that his son’s death was not an accident but couldn’t find any clues or inconsistencies.

People couldn’t return from the dead.

Since that day, Patrick had shouldered the burden of running Pansy Group.

Patrick poured two glasses of wine, spilling one on the ground in front of the tombstone.

His handsome face was marked by sadness and a touch of melancholy. “Dad, a toast to you.” He downed the glass of wine, resolutely saying, “Dad, I know your death was not an accident. I’m determined to uncover the truth!”

A downpour began, soaking Patrick completely as raindrops ran down his hair.

Yet, he remained oblivious to the rain, fixated on the tombstone as he continued to speak his mind to his father.

“Dad, you know, I still haven’t found Candy. It’s been so many years. Grandfather has arranged my engagement. Her name is Jane. Without Candy, I might consider the engagement, but I made a promise to marry Candy.”

Florence came into view at the mountaintop, panting and holding an umbrella.

She was shocked to find Patrick sitting on the ground, drenched, leaning against the tombstone.

“Patrick, are you okay?”

Florence stepped forward and shielded him with an umbrella. “You’re soaking wet.”

But Patrick paid no attention to her, instead picking up a wine bottle and taking a long swig.

Florence snatched the bottle away, exclaiming, “Patrick, stop drinking. You’re intoxicated!”

Patrick was inebriated to the point of near unconsciousness. Looking at the beautiful face before him, he mumbled, “Candy?”

Florence was hearing this name for the first time. Her curiosity was piqued.

Who was Candy? Did she mean Jane? That was highly unlikely. Florence bent forward, supported Patrick, and gently said, “Patrick, you’re drunk. Let me take you home.”

Patrick, lost in his intoxication, shouted once more, “Candy…”