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Mrs. Marsh's Revealed Identities novel (Jennifer and Ivan) novel Chapter 183

Aubree looked up at him. "Tell me."

Andrew reported, "At the charity banquet seven years ago, Catherine Collins put a drug in Mr. Marsh's wine. Accidentally, Jennifer Brooks entered his room and became his antidote. Then she got pregnant."

"She was forced?" Aubree didn't believe it. "By accident? Wasn't it planned by Jennifer Brooks?'

"They had never seen each other before that night," Andrew answered firmly. "This is the video record of the night seven years ago. I managed to find it. Please take a look."

Aubree took over his tablet. When watching the video clip, she gaped in disbelief. Her blood pressure rose fast.

She watched Catherine calmly put the white powder into the glass, shake it, and leave.

Then Catherine passed the wine to Ivan.

Aubree had mixed feelings for Jennifer while watching.

Meanwhile, Jennifer was busy in the kitchen, washing and chopping the ingredients.

Ivan returned home pretty early. He entered the kitchen to help her serve the dishes, season the dishes, adjust the fire on the stove. Sometimes, he even helped her stir the food in the pot.

"Do you know how to do it?" Jennifer was surprised.

"We're all humans, and we all need to feed ourselves, right?"

Jennifer laughed. "So Mr. CEO, you're actually a househusband too."

Before six in the evening, Jennifer finished cooking. The dishes looked appealing, smelt fragrant, and tasted delicious.

Jennifer deliberately cooked two dishes that Aubree ate the most last time. She even improved their tastes.

She cooked 16 dishes that occupied the whole dining table.

"Go wash your hands," Ivan said, "I'll get the tableware." He was indeed like a househusband tonight.

The maids didn't need to help with anything.

Aubree watched her son busy in the kitchen but didn't remark. Catherine wanted to set him up, but Jennifer gained his heart.

The dinner was harmonious. Ivan had a good appetite and kept praising Jennifer's cooking skills.

Aubree watched him munch the food, feeling delighted.

She also ate a lot of food because she liked all the dishes on the table.

Ivan still didn't know anything behind the scene. Under the peaceful atmosphere, many things had been planned, and his wife would soon leave him.

The following morning.

Ivan arrived at the company. Catherine couldn't help but dial Aubree's phone number. "Morning, Auntie Aubree. How are you feeling today? Getting better?" she wanted to see if her trick worked.

"I'm very well," Aubree answered, seemingly in a good mood, "I never stop using the medicine for one day. I need to be patient."

In fact, she had already forgiven Catherine for drugging her son. She was also a woman, so she could understand why Catherine had done it.

Very well?

Catherine was confused. She had put the iodine into the vials to ruin Aubree's skin, which would be corroded if there was no deiodination. However, Aubree said she was well.

After exchanging a few words, she ended the call.

Sitting in the chair, Catherine looked hesitant, wondering if she should do it again.

If Jennifer completely cured Aubree, Catherine believed that she would never be able to marry Ivan.

In Kelsington Bay, the old villa was enveloped by warm sunshine.

The research lab, the second floor.

Jennifer put all the medicines into a box and wrote the instructions for each, so that Aubree would know what to do with them right away.

Finally, she had finished making the medicines. If things went well, Aubree would fully recover after using up everything in the box.

Jennifer passed the box to Pippa and reminded her in detail, "I wrote everything clearly. There are three types of medicines for the scars on her waist. She needs to use bottle No.1 in the first week, bottle No.2 in the second, and bottle No.3 in the third. Even if she looked fully recovered, you should let her finish using them all."

Pippa held the box, feeling deeply moved. "I got it. Thank you, Mrs. Marsh."

Suddenly, Aubree appeared in sight. Jennifer watched as she walked over with an impassive face.

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