Chapter 209 Self-Harm Tendencies
He didn't want to say anything to Juniper, he just wanted to stand by and listen to her voice.
Jenny glanced at Magnus and asked Juniper on the video call, "Mom, do you like Ronald?"
"Yes, I do." Ronald had helped her during her most difficult times.
If she didn't like him, she wouldn't be friends with him.
Magnus, overhearing Juniper's straightforward response, felt as if his heart was being gripped and crushed by an invisible hand.
Jenny, with a furrowed brow, asked, "Mom likes Ronald now. What's going to happen to you, Dad?"
"What's going to happen?" Magnus echoed, his voice tinged with confusion.
Juniper's puzzled expression met his.
By the time Jenny looked up again, Magnus had already left the room.
"Mom, are you going to marry Ronald?" Jenny asked.
"Of course not," Juniper replied, "Ronald and I are just close like family, much like how you feel about Henry."
It was a kind of affection that had nothing to do with romantic relationships or love.
Magnus retreated to his study.
He couldn't bear to listen any longer when Juniper admitted her feelings for Ronald.
It was more than he could handle.
He couldn't accept that Juniper could have feelings for any man other than him.
Letting her go back to Southern City had already been the biggest concession he could make.
But now Juniper had explicitly said she liked Ronald.
He thought, 'Is Ronald better than me?
'Does Ronald love her more?
'Does Ronald understand her better?
'How long has Ronald known her compared to our thirteen years of acquaintance?'
A fierce jealousy roared within Magnus' chest.
It spread like a match struck in gasoline, quickly consuming everything in its path with explosive intensity.
The jealousy was overwhelming, nearly obliterating him.
His hands, clearly defined by veins, clenched into tight fists.
The back of his pale, thin hands was marred by bulging veins, his emotions fraying at the edges, uncontrollable.
Magnus sat there expressionlessly, trying to suppress his rage alone… but it was futile.
The fire of his anger raged uncontrollably, spreading with relentless fury.
He was on the brink of losing his mind.
Magnus unscrewed the small pill bottle; only one lithium carbonate tablet remained.
Since Juniper had returned and stayed with him, the frequency of his episodes had decreased. Lithium carbonate, if taken too often, had severe side effects.
Side effects like uncontrollable shaking and nausea.
When Juniper was around, his emotional state had been relatively stable, and his need for the medication had noticeably dropped.
This period, perhaps because he'd enjoyed Juniper's company so much, had led him to forget—perhaps even overlook—that her presence was only out of obligation.
She was merely here to settle her debts.
Meanwhile, Magnus, who had come to rely on Juniper as his emotional anchor, hadn't even noticed the dwindling supply of lithium carbonate tablets.
He crushed the last pill between his teeth.
With a violent swipe, he hurled the empty pill bottle aside.
His eyes were bloodshot.
The phone rang, displaying Aria's name on the caller ID.
"Juniper's gone," Aria said. "How about the MECT therapy? I prescribed that bottle of lithium carbonate three months ago, and it should be empty now. I suggest you stop taking the medication for a while and go directly for MECT therapy. It'll be more effective."
Magnus fell silent for a long moment before slowly responding, "I'm coming to the clinic."
"Now?" Aria asked, surprised.
It was the middle of the night, and she had already clocked out.
"It's flared up again?"
It wasn't just a flare-up; it was worse.
Before, he might have been able to control it, but now, he felt like he was being dragged into a dark swamp, sinking deeper and deeper, unable to climb out.
Aria's eyelids twitched. "I'll get up and head to the clinic right now. Come over."
Late at night, a black Maybach sped through Yuemin Street.
The roar of several latest-model Harley-Davidson motorcycles echoed in the night.
Even in the Imperial Capital, such a limited-edition Maybach was a rarity.
Its license plate, ending in five nines, was even more unusual.
With no police around and very few cars on the road at this hour, the young men riding the Harley-Davidsons, their heads covered by helmets, felt emboldened. They began to provoke the Maybach.
The motorcycles surrounded the luxury car.
The lead rider whistled at Magnus and shouted, "Hey, mister, fancy car! Wanna race and see who has more horsepower?"
In the past, Magnus wouldn't have bothered with these punks.
But today, his emotions were already on the brink, ready to explode.
And these punks were provoking him at this moment.
The Maybach's window suddenly lowered halfway.
Magnus' cold and imposing face appeared, his aura commanding and intimidating.
A girl in a skimpy outfit, riding on the back of one of the motorcycles, screamed, "Omg, he's so handsome!"
The rider she was with grunted, "Damn it, you're my woman. Why are you praising another man? Am I not handsome enough for you?"
"He's got more class than you!"
"Fuck it! Let's race!"
These young men, who looked to be around twenty, were full of youthful arrogance and a desire to prove themselves. They were easily provoked and now their competitiveness was even stronger.
The road was empty and wide at night, perfect for a race.
Magnus floored the gas.
Cold night air poured in through the open window as the speedometer climbed past 200 mph.
"Mister! You're driving a business car like you're crazy! Don't you want to live?"
As the colorful Harley passed the Maybach, its rider provocatively accelerated, one by one overtaking the luxury car and pulling ahead.
The Harley gang was extremely cocky.
The lead rider gave the Maybach the middle finger!
"Hey! Are you crawling back there? Should we wait for you?"
Inside the Maybach, Magnus' face remained impassive as he slammed the accelerator.
The car rocketed forward, hitting 300 mph.
This particular Maybach, after some modifications, could reach speeds up to 400 mph—though going that fast was a surefire way to court disaster.
The Harleys, with their maximum speed of around 150 mph, were quickly left in the dust.
The young riders were stunned. "Damn! It's going 300 mph?"
"Crazy! With that kind of competitive spirit, he's gonna kill himself!"
The Maybach quickly pulled far ahead of them.
Magnus extended a finger from the partially lowered window, offering them a silent middle finger in return.
The girl on the back of one of the Harleys shouted, "So handsome! Sir, give me your contact info!"
The young rider gritted his teeth. "Don't forget who you belong to!"
"Riding in a Maybach is definitely better than being on a bike!"
"Damn it, this old guy actually races!"
"He's rich, handsome, and can race. Way better than you! What do you have going for you besides being young?"
"Get off the bike if you don't want to ride!"
"Then pull over! I'll get off if you stop!"
The angry shouts and curses drifted back to Magnus.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, wearing a cold smile.
He wasn't really racing; he just had a death wish.
For him, this wasn't thrilling—after spending three years in prison and nearly dying, he was all too familiar with gambling with his life.
When he first got out, his bipolar disorder was out of control. He sought any thrill to vent his pent-up anger.
Drinking, smoking, racing, rock climbing, surfing—he indulged in everything that could harm him, everything reckless.
Back then, Magnus had raced on the treacherous eighteen-turn track against professional drivers, pushing his car to its limits until it was nearly wrecked, almost plunging off a cliff.
If he had died then, it might have been better. He wouldn't be suffering so much now.
In the six years apart from Juniper, he had endured one injury after another, never truly healing.
It seemed that only through such self-destructive behavior did Magnus feel truly alive.
The black Maybach pushed its speed to 400 mph.
As he approached a sharp turn, a white car came into view.
Magnus was shocked. For a fleeting moment, he felt an urge to let go of the steering wheel and let the car crash!
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