Chapter 254 Will You Regret Marrying Me?
Juniper, bundled up in that coat, was lifted off the desk by Magnus, her cheeks all rosy.
At the doorway, she locked eyes with Odis.
Odis shot Juniper a teasing look, and Magnus snapped from inside, "What are you gawking at? Never seen a woman before?"
Odis chuckled, carrying a medical kit inside. "What else are eyes for if not to admire beautiful women? What's wrong with a little look? You're so touchy. Didn't you say if you kicked the bucket, you'd want someone else to look after Juniper?"
He thought, 'Such a temper.'
Magnus's face darkened. "I'm not dead yet."
"Even if you were, if Juniper hooked up with someone else, you'd be rolling in your grave."
Just from that one look, Magnus wanted to punch him.
With his possessiveness and jealousy, if Juniper found someone new, he would come back to life even if he were dead.
Magnus's dark eyes narrowed. "Shut the door!"
Odis kicked the door shut. "You haven't told Juniper about the poisoning yet?"
"She's not a doctor. Knowing would just make her sad without fixing anything."
One person suffering was enough; why did he drag the other into the mess, making both miserable?
Odis got it and nodded, asking, "How often are the episodes lately?"
"It hurts once a day, but it doesn't last long," Magnus answered.
Odis was surprised. "You can bear it that well? You haven't passed out from the pain."
Magnus frowned slightly. "Is there any medication to ease the pain?"
"There is, but it's not very effective."
"Prescribe me some."
"Alright."
At Maple Villa, Sinclair was decorating the wedding vennue with Michael.
Michael had planned to hire a wedding team for the decorations, but Sinclair insisted on doing it herself. It was a big deal, and she had nothing to do while recovering, so she bought a ton of decorations.
The room was packed with balloons, wedding invitations, flowers, and dolls.
Michael was decorating when his phone rang. It was his assistant, Luke.
He answered the call.
On the other end, Luke said, "Mr. Johnson, I found something about your sister Patricia's bills that you asked me to look into."
Michael's expression tightened, and he told Sinclair, "I'll take this call outside."
He continued the call on the open balcony.
"What's up?"
Luke said, "Ms. Johnson has been selling her designer bags on a second-hand platform at very low prices. She must need money. I found out she transferred several hundred thousand dollars to someone named Deborah Rodriguez."
Michael frowned. "Deborah?"
Luke paused and said, "I looked into Deborah's identity. She's the wife of Dino Thibodeaux, the driver who caused the accident while drunk."
"What did you say?"
"I was worried about making a mistake, so I did a thorough investigation and even hired a private detective to follow Ms. Johnson. We got photos of her going to Dino's house and giving money to Deborah. The photos are in your email."
Michael's hand nearly went numb holding the phone as he remained silent for a long time.
Luke tentatively asked, "Mr. Johnson? Should we keep digging into this?"
This was a sensitive and taboo subject, especially since it involved his boss's family.
And the person being investigated was his own sister.
If Patricia really hired someone to kill Sinclair...
Luke was freaked out. He always thought Patricia was just spoiled and a bit of a brat.
But hiring a hitman? That was a whole different level of crazy.
Michael held the phone, silent for what felt like forever.
He leaned against the balcony railing, his face cold and pale.
Then Sinclair came over with two pairs of totally different high heels, asking, "Michael, which pair do you think is better for the wedding?"
Michael hung up the phone.
He stood there, dazed, staring at Sinclair's face.
Sinclair walked up to him, worried. "What's wrong? Who were you talking to? Is there an emergency at work?"
"Sinclair," he said, calling her name.
"You don't look well. Are you feeling sick?"
Michael hugged her tightly, almost leaning all his weight on her. "No, I'm fine. Just a bit tired from decorating the wedding venue these past few days."
Sinclair, holding the high heels, couldn't hug him back. She just smiled and said, "There are still a lot of balloons to blow up. I think there's an automatic inflator online. We were too slow doing it by hand. I'm so silly for not thinking of buying an electric inflator. By the way, since we're busy with the wedding, can we ask Patricia to help us?"
After Sinclair lost her memory, Patricia's attitude towards her changed drastically, becoming very warm.
Over time, Sinclair let her guard down. After all, Patricia was Michael's sister, and she had no reason not to accept her goodwill.
Previously, Michael thought Patricia became independent after being kicked out, so she no longer made things difficult for Sinclair.
But now it seemed Patricia's change in attitude was just a guilty conscience.
She was afraid Sinclair would regain her memory and learn the truth about the accident.
Michael remained silent, and Sinclair patted his back, calling his name, "Michael?"
He snapped out of it. "Having her here would just cause trouble. She'd only make things worse."
Sinclair didn't push it.
"Then we'll decorate it ourselves. We still have a few days, so we should have enough time. You still haven't told me which pair of high heels is better for the wedding?"
"The silver ones."
"Okay."
Michael kept looking at her, his gaze deep and strange.
Sinclair smiled. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
There was a barely noticeable pain in his eyes. "Sinclair, do you regret marrying me?"
She was taken aback. "Did you do something to wrong me before?"
"No, I'm just afraid you have pre-wedding jitters. Many girls get anxious before their wedding, right?"
Sinclair didn't think much of it, holding his hand and smiling. "I'm not anxious but actually looking forward to it. Do you have pre-wedding jitters?"
Michael forced a smile. "No. As long as you're not anxious."
He hugged her, swallowing the words he wanted to say.
He had to confirm this with Patricia.
His eyes reddened as he thought, 'If Patricia really did it.'
That night, Sinclair had a nightmare.
In the dream, Patricia held a shiny fruit knife, glaring at her with a venomous look, walking towards her step by step.
She gritted her teeth and said, "How dare you get pregnant with Michael's child?"
With one stab, she plunged the knife into her slightly swollen belly!
"No... please!"
Sinclair woke up screaming in terror!
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