Chapter 483 What She Wants, Ultimately, Is Nothing
Sarah struggled desperately, but her strength was no match for the bodyguards.
"Raymond, it hurts so much—" Sarah's voice was choked with sobs.
Raymond gave Alvin a look, and Alvin turned to the two bodyguards. "Let her go."
Once released, Sarah thought she had found an ally. Excitedly, she clicked her high heels and rushed toward Raymond, who was seated.
Maybe she was too excited, or maybe she took too big a step, but suddenly her heel snapped.
Sarah's ankle twisted sharply, causing her to collapse to the ground in pain. She reached out, only able to touch the straight leg of Raymond's trousers.
She looked up, her eyes red, expecting Raymond to feel sorry for her and help her up. But his gaze was so cold, so bone-chillingly cold.
It was as if they were strangers, as if the old Raymond had returned. Because the old Raymond had looked at Sarah with the same cold eyes.
No, now his gaze held even more contempt and indifference.
"Raymond, why are you looking at me like that? It hurts so much, please help me up," Sarah let a few tears fall at just the right moment.
She thought, 'With my face altered to resemble Margaret's, I'm sure he'll feel pity for me.'
Raymond stroked his chin, looking down at her. "And what kind of look should I give you, Sarah?"
He extended his hand, and Alvin handed over a folder.
Raymond took it, opened it, glanced at it, then impatiently tossed the folder onto Sarah's face as she sat on the ground.
She hadn't yet recovered from the shock.
The sharp corner of the folder grazed her cheek, leaving several bloody scratches that made her gasp in pain.
Sarah didn't even have time to cry out in pain or act coy. She hurriedly picked up the folder from the ground and opened it. When she saw the contents, her pupils contracted instantly.
She quickly flipped through the pages.
The dossier was brimming with incriminating evidence against her: photographs capturing her alongside Hubert, chat logs detailing Hubert coercing her, plastic surgery documentation, audio recordings of her threatening Ashley to commit murder, and accounts of her taking credit for Margaret's sponsorship.
At that moment, Sarah felt her breathing become rapid, her throat tight as if a large hand was choking her, her heart racing.
Her fingers trembled uncontrollably.
How could this be?
These things were supposed to be in Hubert's possession. How did they end up with Raymond?
Hubert had claimed to like her, but he had given the evidence to Raymond?
Sarah's mind was in chaos, her dry eyes blinking rapidly.
She couldn't stay calm, couldn't stay composed. She frantically tore up all the paper documents in the folder.
The paper scraps fluttered like falling butterflies, blocking her view of Raymond.
She swallowed hard, knelt on the ground, and reached out to grab Raymond's hand, but he subtly avoided her.
In the end, she could only clutch his pant leg. "Someone is framing me, Raymond. I am Margaret. I really am Margaret. This must be the work of that impostor, trying to drive a wedge between us. Raymond, you have to believe me. We're about to get engaged. You can't let someone come between us."
"The person I'm going to marry is Margaret. You think you're Margaret? You think just because you had plastic surgery to look like her, you can replace her?" Raymond kicked her, sending her sprawling to the ground.
His gaze was icy cold. "Or do you think I'm just a fool you can deceive whenever you want?"
Sarah cried out in pain but refused to give up. She couldn't give up, or everything would be over!
She struggled to crawl back to Raymond's pant leg, her eyes filled with tears. "I really am Margaret, Raymond. Even if you kill me, I am Margaret. I am the Margaret who loves you."
"You're not Margaret. The account you used to transfer money to us is clearly Sarah's! Mr. Howard, don't let her deceive you," a few men suddenly spoke up.
Sarah glared at them viciously. "If you don't want to die, shut up!"
"Sarah, you've done so many bad things. Others may not know, but you do. Are you addicted to acting? If you're Margaret, why didn't you use Margaret's bank account to transfer money to us?" The men, now desperate to clear their names, exposed her. "You contacted us tonight, gave us a photo, and told us to wait here. When the person in the photo arrived, we were to cover their head with a hood, tie them up, and beat them! You promised us a million dollars in hush money and said you'd help us escape. But we were caught before we even left the abandoned factory. You idiot, you're in deep trouble now, and you're still threatening us? We're going to expose you."
The men finished speaking and looked obsequiously at Raymond, trying to curry favor. "Mr. Howard, Alvin, we're innocent. We only beat the deceased, but we didn't kill anyone. The deceased is probably Sarah's lover. She wanted to climb up to you, so she killed him."
They looked at Sarah with contempt. "How vicious, to torture someone like that just to get close to Mr. Howard. The deceased must have suffered terribly before dying. It's inhumane."
"Shut up, shut up!" Sarah turned and glared at the men, shouting angrily.
The men fell silent.
Sarah looked up at Raymond again, her eyes pitiful. "I didn't kill anyone. It wasn't me. I'm just a woman; how could I dare to kill someone? It's all slander, all slander. They must have been sent by Margaret to frame me."
"Margaret? So you finally admit you're not Mrs. Howard?" Alvin sneered.
Sarah realized she had slipped up.
She steeled herself and cried pitifully, looking at Raymond. "Yes, I'm not Margaret. But that doesn't mean I killed anyone."
"Ms. Martinez, I advise you to be honest. We've installed pinhole cameras in the abandoned factory. Are you sure you want to lie?" Alvin sneered.
Pinhole cameras—
Sarah looked up in horror, scanning the factory ceiling.
Sure enough, she saw numerous cameras, hidden well in the dim light, not easily noticeable.
She had been careless, coming here only to vent her anger and frustration, forgetting to check for cameras.
Sarah slumped to the ground. It was over. Everything she wanted was ultimately just an illusion.
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