Chapter 103 She Must Not Be Provoked
"I came to see why you're still kickin'." Raymond's words were ice cold.
Margaret's fingers, resting on her knees, clenched so hard they dug into her flesh, sending waves of pain through her.
She figured if her body hurt, maybe her heart wouldn't.
They were a couple, yet he wanted her dead. How many times had he asked why she wasn't six feet under yet?
She couldn't remember, probably a bunch.
Raymond flashed a careless grin. "Haven't you always been yelling about wanting to die? Now you know the truth. You know your sins, so why aren't you dead yet? Gonna back out now?"
Margaret pressed her lips together, staring at him blankly.
She knew he was trying to get under her skin, but she couldn't let him. She still needed Raymond to handle the Hughes family.
The Hughes family was in shambles, and everyone was circling like vultures, ready to pick it apart.
Her health was going downhill fast. If Raymond didn't step up to manage the Hughes family or look after her parents, it was clear her death would mark the end of the Hughes family.
Raymond hated them, but she trusted his character.
How ridiculous.
On her deathbed, she had to trust the Hughes family and her parents to Raymond, who wanted her dead.
Margaret weighed the pros and cons, thinking of his parents' tragic deaths, which Marlon caused. She couldn't even get mad.
She got up and took the dishes to the kitchen, her hand still bandaged from when Raymond shoved her out of the car last night, cutting her hand on glass shards.
A day had passed, and her hand still throbbed with pain.
With an injured hand, she couldn't touch water. She put the dishes in the dishwasher and went back to the living room, calmly suggesting, "This deal won't cost you anything. You were gonna torment me anyway, right? As long as you promise to protect the Hughes family and my parents, my life is yours. Do whatever you want with me. I won't blame you."
Raymond shot back, "If I don't agree, I can still torment you. Margaret, you want to get the most out of this. You really have no shame."
"Raymond, they're still your elders. Take your anger out on me, not them. They're old and can't handle it. My dad's in a coma, and if he wakes up, he'll have dementia. He's a wreck. I know you're big on family, and I am too. I get it. If I were you, I'd want revenge too. But just like you love your parents, I love mine. They're all I've got. I can't just stand by. Take it out on me. Vent all your anger and hatred on me. Please," Margaret pleaded.
"You'll agree to anything?"
Margaret nodded, "Yes, I'll agree to anything. Just give me a chance."
"Alright, then get on your knees and beg me now. If you do it, I'll think about it." Raymond sneered.
Margaret's fingers tightened. "Raymond, you."
"Didn't you just say it nicely? Let me come at you. What? You won't even kneel? Just talk?" Raymond sneered. "Of course, the high and mighty Miss Hughes, once all-powerful, and I was just your bodyguard. How could you possibly put down your pride and kneel before a former poor man, a bodyguard?"
Margaret pressed her lips together, silent.
"If you don't want to, I won't force you. I never planned to manage the Hughes Family anyway," Raymond said, about to get up.
Actually, he was worried about her hand and arm, so he came to check on her.
But when she brought up managing the Hughes family, all their old beef came rushing back.
Raymond turned to leave.
Margaret freaked out, her frail body blocking his way.
Under Raymond's slightly surprised and confused gaze, she dropped to her knees.
She knelt decisively and quickly.
Just like when she knelt outside the Hughes Group building in the snow.
People only ditch their pride when they're desperate; that's growth.
The only difference was, back then, he had a bunch of media there to broadcast and humiliate her.
Now, it was just him watching her get embarrassed.
Margaret hit the ground hard, her forehead breaking the skin, leaving a trace of blood on the floor.
Her forehead was bleeding.
But it didn't matter; as long as he felt sorry for her and agreed to the deal, her sacrifice of dignity wouldn't be for nothing.
"Raymond, please, I'm begging you! I'm at my wit's end. Only you can help me. If you're not satisfied, I'll kneel outside as long as you want. You always said I was too bossy, but don't worry. If you agree, I'll be obedient and listen to you, okay?" Blood trickled down Margaret's pale face, adding a touch of despair, beauty, and sorrow.
Raymond stayed silent.
Margaret started kowtowing again, repeatedly saying sorry, asking for forgiveness, and begging for a chance to help her parents as a daughter.
Eventually, Margaret fainted, collapsing on the floor.
Raymond's eyes flashed with panic. He quickly picked her up from the floor, carried her through several doorways, and into the bedroom, placing her on the bed.
He fetched warm water, cleaned the blood from her forehead, and bandaged her up.
He covered her with a blanket and turned on the central heating, remembering how she was always cold in winter, her hands and feet freezing.
Without heating, she couldn't sleep.
Raymond bent down, tucking her in.
His gaze swept over her pale face. When he first met her, she wasn't like this.
Back then, Margaret was the famous student council president in college, the most beautiful girl.
She loved to dress up, wearing a red down jacket and a woolen hat. She was always smiling, as bright as a flower.
Just one look had shaken his numb and hardened heart.
If she weren't Marlon's daughter, how wonderful it would be. He would give her everything she wanted, love her, spoil her, and make her the happiest woman in the world.
But there were no ifs. Without hatred, their backgrounds would never have crossed paths.
Raymond looked away, noticing a closed notebook on the desk. It looked familiar. He walked over, glanced at it briefly, and recognized it. A year ago, before Marlon fell down the stairs, he and Margaret were like newlyweds, inseparable.
They held hands, strolled, passed a stationery store, and she fancied this notebook, claiming she would write her thoughts about him in it, or even write a book for him, maybe becoming a bestselling author one day.
Unexpectedly, she had kept this simple notebook for so long.
Thinking of the past, Raymond's expression softened. He picked up the notebook with his gloved hand, unaware that it was filled with Margaret's countdown wishes and her love for him.
Raymond's fingers touched the cover, about to open the notebook.
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