Chapter 10
She clutched her phone, sitting on the freezing, bone-chilling bridge pier.
He chuckled, totally unfazed. "So what if it is? So what if it ain't?"
As she was in this mess, he could still laugh. What a jerk.
But it didn't matter anymore if he did it or not.
Margaret said, "Raymond, I knelt for two hours outside The Hughes Group building like you asked."
He shot back with a snarky question. "Want a medal for that?"
She struggled to speak, "You should keep your word and give me a million bucks."
He played dumb, so she had to keep reminding him, shamelessly.
Raymond asked, "Mrs. Hughes, when did I ever promise to save Marlon?"
Margaret's fingers turned white as she gripped the phone. "Raymond!"
"I said I wanted him dead more than anyone, remember? You're the idiot who chose to kneel outside in the cold. I didn't ask you to do that. You must love the pain."
All of Margaret's defenses crumbled.
She held her phone and cried her heart out. She couldn't keep up the act of being strong, proud, or unhurt anymore.
Raymond sneered, "He's not dead yet, and you're already bawling. How touching."
He went on, "Alright. I'll give you the million bucks, but there's a catch."
Her sobbing stopped abruptly. "What catch? Spill it."
Raymond replied, "Didn't you say yesterday you wanted to die? Marlon owes me several lives. If you die for him, I'll wire the money right away. If you die, we skip the messy divorce. Marlon gets better care, and you get to die sooner. Win-win."
He mocked, "I'll make sure your funeral is grand. Don't you love pink? I'll use pink flowers for the funeral, and your photo frame will be pink too. And yeah, I'll set off fireworks for days to celebrate your death."
His cold, indifferent tone was dripping with the word "death."
How much did Raymond hate her to wish for her death and say such heartless things?
Her mind was stuck on the grand funeral he promised, not catching he said Marlon owed him several lives.
Seeing her silence, his tone turned annoyed. "Well, Marlon's gonna die sooner or later. No need for you to throw your life away."
She knew he was about to hang up.
"Raymond! My biggest regret is picking you as my bodyguard and husband! I was stupid; it's my fault, and I admit it!"
"You better keep your word! I'll die; I'll do it! You better transfer the money to my dad. Or even as a ghost, I won't let you and Sarah off the hook!" She broke down in tears, her tears falling uncontrollably.
This was the first time she lost it in front of Raymond.
She walked to the lake, stepping on the ice. The surface was frozen. If she jumped in, she might not die right away but would be choked by the icy water. Her body might not be found for a long time, becoming swollen and ugly.
She cared about her looks. On her way home, she bought a box of the sharpest blades from a convenience store.
She feared she wouldn't succeed in one go and would suffer repeatedly.
Back home, she filled the bathtub with warm water and scattered rose petals, her favorite.
The crimson, thick liquid dripped onto the rose-petal-covered water surface, silently telling the sorrow of the world.
Afraid Raymond wouldn't know she was dead and delay the money transfer.
Margaret picked up her phone, snapped a photo of her bleeding wrist, and sent it to his phone: [As you wished, I'm dead. Transfer the money directly to my mom's bank account.]
She edited the message and sent it.
There was no response.
She actually fantasized that he would reply, telling her not to die.
How ridiculous.
With her dead, they wouldn't even need to go through divorce proceedings. Why would he tell her not to die?
The water in the bathtub, steaming, was gradually dyed red with blood.
The phone on the sink kept vibrating.
Margaret's eyes lit up. Was it a call from Raymond?
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