NO LONGER HIS PLAYTHING：I'm the Heroine of My Own Story novel Chapter 212

Shoot!

Mrs. Wilson’s accurate guess caught me off guard, raising a bullet of panic in my chest. I desperately prayed for Bright to handle this situation carefully. He gazed at his mom for a length of time, as if trying to assess her emotions from her expressionless face. Then he held her hand.

“Mom, I said Phoebehas cooked this meal. Nothing else.”

Biting my fingernails, I observed her keenly to look for a hint of softness on her face. Mrs. Wilson appeared indifferent and cold as she looked straight into Bright’s eyes.

“Use your diplomatic answers somewhere else. I have spent my entire life with your dad. I know how it works.”

Oops!

She didn’t give him a chance to deny his claim and sighed. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she sat back and said,

“I thought that finally, my son has noticed my love for him. But no ...”

That was all I could understand from the incoherent phrases, as she kept mumbling under her breath. Bright sensed the danger looming over us and spoke immediately.

“Mom, I have prepared everything for you. And why does it matter if Phoebehas helped me with it? These are my heartfelt emotions for you.”

Bright’s indirect confession turned her face crimson in a split second, Mrs. Wilson let out her anger. “It matters, Bright! One good thing you did for me, and it was because of an outsider. Why aren’t you seeing the problem in it?”

Her voice raised an octave as she threw the napkin on the table. “You are my son. Why does it take you an outsider’s suggestion to plan something special for me?”

“I love you too, my son. Sometimes, parents can’t stop their kids from getting fooled. They had to learn from bad experiences.

But, no worries. I will be here to console you for your loss eventually.”

“It’s not like that, mom.” Bright protested, “Phoebeis a wonderful woman. I am sure you’ll love her. Please trust your son’s choice. You have taught me well.”

He attempted to flatter her, but the damage was done. Mrs. Wilson refused outright when he asked her,

“Mom, would you like to meet Phoebe? She is here. I will ...”

“No!” She said, sharply. “I have agreed to your marriage, but it doesn’t mean that I like her too. Phoebeis just your choice, not mine!”