Chapter 113

Chapter 113

The next day, when a servant stopped me at the gate of the Ferguson Mansion, preventing me from stepping outside, I realized the truth. Last night was merely a notification.

I knew it was Bryant’s doing, not the servant’s. So, I patiently asked, “Where’s Bryant?”

“Mr. Ferguson left before dawn.”

“Has Gary returned?”

“Not yet, Gary’s handling Mr. Timothy’s funeral arrangements.”

I spoke softly, “What if I need to leave now?”

“Mrs. Ferguson, you can’t leave.” The servant gestured toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, where several men in black suits stood guard.

I was shocked. In three years, Bryant’s deceit hadn’t changed. He told me I only had to stay for one night, and then he wouldn’t let me step out the door.

There was a moment when I wondered if he was at all the same person who, years ago, had kindly taken me to the infirmary, carefully respecting my pride, trying every means to invite me out for a meal. Could eight years change someone so completely?

By morning, I’d received tons of messages on my phone, mainly condolences for Timothy’s passing.

Christine and Mark were the most contrasting Christine sent a barrage of messages while Mark typed, [Jane, my c

Take care of yourself.]

Yet, about concern, I couldn’t weigh which was more significant. Aside from Christine, only Mark reminded me to take care of myself. Most were trying to get closer to the Ferguson family.

I only replied to the two of them before calling Bryant. But it wasn’t him who answered.

Kevin respectfully said, “Mrs. Ferguson, there’s been an issue at our overseas branch, and Mr. Ferguson is in an emergency meeting. I’ll inform him as soon as it’s over.”

“Forget it.” I closed my eyes, “Let it be.”

With Timothy’s death, the corporation would be unstable. Bryant was overwhelmed, unable to spare me any attention.

I made another call. “Hello, RiverCity Police Station? I’m being held against my will.”

When the police arrived, Bryant’s car also pulled up. He stepped out with a dark expression, quickly dismissed the officers, and strode toward me. His eyes, red from a

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Chapter 113

sleepless night, bore an even stronger sense of oppression. “So, you can’t wait to get away from me, huh?”

I nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

I didn’t want to remain in a marriage on the verge of breaking. Nor could I accept a husband who was waiting on someone else.

His lips curled into a cold sneer. “Well, I don’t want that.”

“Does it matter,” I was exhausted. “This will only make me despise you.”

“I don’t care!” His voice suddenly rose, his body radiating a fierce obsession. “As long as you are still Mrs. Ferguson, Grandpa will rest in peace!”

I stepped back in fear. “Bryant…”

Hearing the tremble in my voice, a moment of clarity seemed to pass through his eyes. His hand rested gently on my head, and his voice was soft. “Jane, we can start over. Believe me.”

“I told you last night, it’s impossible.” I looked at him in despair, making the most unlikely request, “Bryant, can you break it off with Margaret? I might consider it if you can promise never to see her again.”

I bet he surely couldn’t do it.

Unexpectedly, he agreed without hesitation, “Okay.”

I didn’t know what to say. Bryant seemed almost crazed.

Perhaps Timothy’s death had hit him harder than expected, and he might come to his senses after a while.

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