Chapter 155

As Gwendolyn slipped on her slippers, she observed him closely.

She took off her trench coat and handed it to him.

Maverick paused for a second. His long eyelashes drooped slightly, and his handsome face was pale.

He obediently took the trench coat from Gwendolyn and helped her hang it on the coat rack.

He did not take the initiative to speak, completely unlike his usual attentive and diligent self.

Gwendolyn’s expression grew darker and darker.

Maverick did not notice at all and turned his head to glance at the clock on the living room wall.

It was almost noon already.

He eagerly headed to the kitchen to prepare a meal.

Gwendolyn sat on the couch with an imposing posture.

“Come here.” Her tone was cold when she spoke, leaving no room for interruption.

Maverick’s broad back stiffened for a moment, then he turned around, walked to her, and stood still.

She did not look up, her expression somewhat cold. “I remember someone once said they wouldn’t
make me look up to them.”

Maverick did not budge, feeling awkward as he noticed her attitude toward him remained icy cold.

Did Treyton really not tell her that I was the one who saved her? Anyway, did Gwendolyn come back
today to settle the score of my attending the charity gala with Samantha?



He had thought he could balance his merits and demerits. Suddenly, he felt a suffocating tightness in
his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

“Hmm?”

It was an imposing hum, possessing a delicate, gentle tone produced uniquely by women.

Gwendolyn was growing a bit impatient.

Maverick froze for two seconds, then went down on one knee, slowly squatting in front of her feet. His
eyes were still downcast, and his eyelashes trembled gently.

Gwendolyn sensed his awkwardness, which made her feel even more confused. She gently lifted his
chin with her fingertips, forcing him to look up.

Their eyes met.

Maverick’s eyes were tinged with a hint of red. Within his deep black pupils lay a sense of vulnerability
and grievance that he tried to conceal but could not quite hide.

He looked as though he had been bullied.

Gwendolyn’s frown deepened.

I haven’t even asked anything yet, and he’s already feeling aggrieved?

“What have you been up to these past couple of days? Mr. Harris seemed to have said you’re not
allowed to go out. Have you not done any housework during this time?”

Maverick pursed his thin lips, feeling as if someone was clenching his heart, the pain making it difficult
for him to catch his breath.



Gwendolyn raised her chin a little higher. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m recuperating,” he responded curtly. His voice was deep and hoarse, yet his tone conveyed subtle
grievances.

Gwendolyn chuckled lightly. “What’s the matter with your throat? Are you sick or something?”

“I’m running a fever.”

He had been staying in the villa for two days without going out, and it had not rained during that time.
How could he have caught a fever?

He must have had a pretty high fever these past few days given his extremely pale face.

Gwendolyn more or less had an idea.

She released her grip on his chin. “Don’t just squat there. Sit on the couch over there.”

Maverick accepted the offer, stood up, and sat directly on the small couch nearby.

He was already relatively weak. After he squatted for just a short while, his legs began to feel numb,
and his head felt a bit dizzy.

If he squatted for much longer, he was afraid he might be unable to hold on.

Gwendolyn gracefully poured herself a glass of water and continued to ask, “What happened to
Quinton’s injuries? Who did it?”

Maverick watched her drink water as his Adam’s apple unconsciously moved slightly. Without skipping
a beat, he said casually, “I’ve been lying in my room for two days, so I’m not sure. Maybe he fell.”

No one was willing to tell her the truth.



Gwendolyn did not want to dwell on the matter any longer and returned to the main topic. “Why were
you at the charity gala that day?”

Maverick had just parted his lips to speak when Gwendolyn stared at him intently, reminding him, “I
want to hear the truth.”

“I rode in Samantha’s car and went to the countryside to meet Natasha.” He gulped and stole a glance
at Gwendolyn’s expression. Seeing no change in her demeanor, he went on, “At the party, Samantha
was just carrying out orders. There was someone behind her, scheming and planning everything
meticulously. This person calculated every move accurately. Samantha said she wanted to join forces
with me but was also prepared for the possibility that I would refuse and had plans to silence me…”

Here, he let out a cough. He had spoken too much that his throat felt as though it was on fire.

Gwendolyn casually handed him a cup, gesturing for him to pour water for himself. Her eyes were filled
with amusement as she stared at him. “You’re telling me about joining forces, but aren’t you afraid I’ll
become suspicious of you, thinking you’re deliberately exposing yourself?”

“Since you want to hear the truth from me, I won’t hide it from you.” As for whether she believed him or
not, that was not something he could decide.

“Really?” Gwendolyn slightly curved her lips, resting her cheek on one hand while the other was
propped on her knee. She tilted her head to look at him and gave a sly smile. “Then, I want to know
what happened to Quinton’s injury. Be honest.”

Maverick pondered momentarily, and his thin lips slightly parted. “He offended me, so I had Nico hurt
him.”

Nico?



Gwendolyn furrowed her brows, sensing he was hiding something else.

Frankly speaking, Gwendolyn had sorted things out and roughly figured it out at this point.

It was likely related to Treyton in some way.

That aside, Samantha could be both the executor and planner this time.

Gwendolyn could not feel at ease before she settled the accounts.

She stood up and gently straightened her red velvet skirt. “Since it was your subordinates who hurt
mine, I’ll have your people work for me today. I’m going to collect a debt from the Lane family.”

Her eyes sparkled like stars as she finished speaking, and her charming little face displayed a mix of
cold arrogance and swagger.

Maverick was stunned as he gazed into the faint glimmer in her eyes.

By the time he came to his senses, Gwendolyn had already taken the black trench coat from the coat
rack, ready to head out.

He hurriedly followed her and contacted Nico, arranging for Neville and his subordinates to work for her
for a day.

Once everyone had gathered, Gwendolyn took a glance and felt it was still not enough.

Maverick explained, “Gwendolyn, they’ve all fought tooth and nail, crawling out of piles of corpses.
Their skills are not weak. Nico alone is more than enough to deal with the useless bodyguards at the
Lane residence.”

That was still not enough.



A couple of days ago, she was involved in a forty-against-three fight.

She wanted Samantha to experience the overwhelming force of a mob.

However, Elven and Ezra were still lying in the hospital, while William and Quinton seemed to have
been injured.

She decided to call Yulia. “Get me some people from the organization who are good at fighting. Your
boss is going to start a fight.”

Maverick was listening closely nearby, keenly picking up on the words like “organization” and “your
boss.”

Soon, Gwendolyn had impressively gathered a group of fifty people. Together with Maverick’s team and
herself, there were a total of fifty-eight people.

Even the ground quaked lightly beneath their feet as they marched.

That domineering presence looked quite intimidating from afar.

Gwendolyn was quite satisfied and ready to set off when someone suddenly grabbed her wrist.

Maverick stared at her with a gloomy expression, his voice hoarse as he complained, “Aren’t you going
to take me to the fight?”

Gwendolyn blinked and gently patted his pale cheek. She said playfully, “Sweetie, you’re sick. You can’t
fight.”

Although that was not what Gwendolyn meant, the last sentence deeply hurt Maverick’s nerves as it
was uttered in front of the crowd.

Maverick’s face was solemn.



“I can!” He spoke with utmost seriousness, emphasizing his words through gritted teeth.

At the Lane residence, a few bored bodyguards at the entrance suddenly felt an overwhelming
marching sound that caused even the water cup on the table to tremble.

They turned their heads in surprise and disbelief.

They saw a woman with stunningly beautiful facial features wearing a trench coat and a red skirt and
exuding an air of dominance.

A large group of tall and burly men followed closely behind. Their menacing presence was evident as
they strode toward them from fifty meters away.

Although she was much smaller in stature than the men behind her, her presence was not diminished
in the slightest. She was like a queen high above, accompanied by her black knights as they arrived.

“Gosh!”

The Lane family’s bodyguards were terrified. “Hurry and inform Ms. and Mrs. Lane!”

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Chapter 155 novel The Ex and Her Riches


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