Chapter 295 See, You Still Can't Bear to Let Me Die
"You want me dead? Huh?" Raymond pressed Margaret towards the door, squinting his eyes as he asked.
Moonlight spilled over his profile, casting a long shadow on the ground.
His shadow exuded loneliness, solitude, and sorrow.
Margaret stared at him, taking a few steps back. "Yes."
"You think I'm the killer? No matter how I explain, you think I'm just making excuses?" Raymond continued to press forward.
Margaret kept retreating, trying to maintain distance from Raymond. "Yes."
Hearing this, Raymond's eyes instantly reddened.
He had had some drinks with Evelyn.
His face was quite flushed, and he stared at Margaret with a piercing gaze.
In his eyes, Margaret saw a hint of grievance.
What did he have to be aggrieved about?
Margaret told herself, 'Margaret, think about your parents' deaths, don't be deceived by his facade. You've been fooled by him so many times, learn your lesson!'
Margaret coldly met his gaze, their eyes locking once more.
Raymond suddenly pressed his body against hers, forcing Margaret against the wall.
The wall was cold, just like her dead heart.
Raymond suddenly gripped her hand, wrapping it in his large palm, a wave of warmth spreading through Margaret's hand.
In her hand was the knife he had given her.
"Take your filthy hand off me," Margaret said with disgust, furrowing her brow.
Raymond was deeply hurt by her expression, realizing she had misunderstood him this deeply.
Instead of letting go, Raymond gripped Margaret's hand even tighter.
Before Margaret could react, the sharp blade was being forced towards his heart.
"What are you doing?" Margaret was a bit stunned.
Raymond gave a cold smile. "You think I'm the killer, right? No matter how I explain, you don't believe me? Didn't you say the vase missed my heart? Then avenge your father."
Margaret didn't expect him to pull this stunt.
The dagger was getting closer and closer to his black shirt.
"You had dinner with Joseph today to get him to help you with the lawsuit, right? Margaret, why go through all that trouble? The dagger is in your hand now, one stab and you'll never be tormented by me again, no need for a lawsuit."
"We don't have to drag this out. You don't have to bear my children anymore. You like the mute boy, you like Daniel, right? If I die, you can be with whoever you want! No one will control you, do it."
Raymond saw that Margaret wasn't moving, and her face was pale.
"Are you worried about your fingerprints on the dagger, that the cops will come after you? Easy fix." Raymond let go of Margaret's hand, holding the dagger himself, then grabbed Margaret's hand, forcing her to hold his hand that was gripping the dagger.
"When the cops investigate, it will be a suicide, the dagger will have my fingerprints, nothing to do with you, you can blame it all on me."
"Come on, let me help you!"
Margaret's hand was tightly held by him, she watched helplessly as the blade moved towards his black shirt.
'Is this how it should be? Should I kill him like this?' Margaret's mind was in chaos.
"Think about your parents who died unjustly, think about how I pushed you to the brink of despair, think about how after I die, you can live a happy life," Raymond reminded her.
Margaret suddenly recalled the first time they made love.
They were still in college then.
He held her slender waist, shedding his usual aloofness, gently kissing her brows and eyes, saying her eyes were like stars in the night sky.
He wanted to spend a lifetime keeping this star.
"Margaret, it won't hurt much, I'll be very gentle," Raymond had said before entering her body.
When they first started dating, he didn't like being too close to her in public.
Every time they went out, he walked ahead, and she followed from a distance.
After a while, she got a bit upset, deliberately twisting her ankle so he would carry her, or she wouldn't get up.
Faced with her sudden act of willfulness, Raymond was both embarrassed and at a loss, just pursing his lips, angry.
Margaret was quite attractive, quickly drawing the attention of passersby, who egged Raymond on to carry her.
They even said if he didn't want to, there were plenty of others who would.
In the end, Raymond walked over, squatted down, and Margaret immediately climbed onto his back.
Being carried by Raymond felt very secure, very wonderful.
"Thank you, honey," Margaret kissed his cheek, afraid he was angry.
After a while, Raymond said, "Just this once."
Margaret was lost in thought.
"What are you hesitating for? Huh? Let me help you," Raymond's voice brought Margaret back to reality.
The blade quickly pierced through his black shirt.
Margaret's mind was in turmoil, countless thoughts racing through her head, some wanting him dead, some not, all wildly intertwined.
The blade had already pierced Raymond's chest, and the blood droplets fell.
Margaret shook her head, trying to pull the dagger back. "No... I can't."
"If I die, you'll be free," Raymond's strength was great, the blade still pressing down.
Margaret was terrified by the sight of the blood, frantically pulling back. "No... I can't."
Raymond was her husband. Raymond was the only man she had ever loved, he couldn't die.
Even if Raymond had to die, he couldn't die in front of her.
She was different from Raymond.
They struggled back and forth, repeatedly.
The dagger fell to the ground, and his blood splattered everywhere as the dagger fell.
Margaret, pale-faced, stared at Raymond in shock.
Raymond, however, seemed to feel no pain, smiling, his lips curling up, happily looking at her. "See, you still love me. Your body is more honest than your mouth. Margaret, you still can't bear to let me die."
'Is that so? I can't bear to let him die. But he is the one who killed my dad.' She thought.
Margaret calmed down, leaning against the wall, curling her lips coldly, mocking, "Raymond, do you want to hear the truth?"
Raymond looked at her intently. "I will protect you from now on, when our child is born, we'll leave this sad place and start anew somewhere else."
"You're dreaming," Margaret sneered. "It's not that I can't bear to let you die, I just don't want to dirty my hands. This is my parents' house, your blood would dirty their place, and they'd be angry."
The smile in Raymond's eyes froze, and then it vanished.
His hands at his sides clenched into fists.
"So, Raymond, if you want to die, do it somewhere else, like in front of my parents' grave. They'd be happy to see you atone with your death." Margaret said coldly.
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