Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress novel Chapter 1592

Chapter 1592: You shouldn’t have come

Meanwhile...

Patricia was still frowning in the reception area outside Penny’s office. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that all those delivery packages were coming from the same sender.

When she received her first package, she had rushed home to thank her father. He seemed pleased by her sweetness and told her she "deserved it."

But she realized something was off when Mr. Miller mentioned the perfume he bought for her—not the bag she had received.

Still, Patricia didn’t dwell on it too much.

She simply assumed there had been a mix-up.

Who would’ve thought how wrong she was?

Still frowning deeply, Patricia turned to the side, her eyes instantly landing on Mark in his usual spot.

"Hey," she called. "Don’t you also get delivery packages nowadays?"

Mark slowly lifted his gaze to her and replied coldly, "No."

"At least there are two of us," she muttered. "Should I call Father and ask for an explanation?"

Patricia seriously considered it—until her gut twisted the more she thought about it. Her shoulders tensed, her breath slowed, and her heart began pounding against her chest as beads of cold sweat formed on her back and forehead.

Mark, watching her from the corner of his eye, slowly turned to her. The first thing he noticed was her suddenly pale complexion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, seeing her turn to him and force a smile.

"Of—of course," she stammered. "If Penny comes, tell her I just went to the restroom."

With that, Patricia pushed herself up and hurriedly left.

Mark tilted his head, watching her scurry away like she was hiding something.

"What’s wrong with her?" he muttered. "She looked perfectly fine just a second ago..."

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Restroom

Patricia leaned on the sink, both hands gripping the edge. Her breathing was heavy and uneven, her heart still racing. When she finally calmed herself, she slowly looked up to face her reflection.

Why did I even consider doing that?

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a sigh escaping her as a familiar spike of fear welled up in her chest. The thought of contacting the sender of the packages reminded her of that time she picked up a card from her brother’s dirty laundry—

That same card that almost got her killed.

Even now, Patricia fought to free herself from those memories, but they lingered, haunting her at the worst moments. Right now, she could barely breathe. Her stomach churned.

I hate it.

Her eyes shone with bitterness. She shut them tight, shaking her head. Reaching for the faucet, water rushed into her hand as the sensor activated. Thanks to her recent disinterest in heavy makeup, she didn’t mind washing her face.

Water dripped from her chin as she stared into the mirror again.