Chapter 56 Do You Still Want to Bully Me?
Margaret, looking all skinny and rocking a sweater, stumbled out. She looked like crap, having just been in the bathroom, dealing with some serious pain. She had just popped a bunch of painkillers when he walked back in.
"What? My apology isn't enough for you? Still wanna mess with me?" Margaret clutched her side, wincing.
She looked like she was about to break.
Raymond was chilling on the couch, eyeing the little pill bottle in his hand, then glanced at Margaret, zeroing in on where she was holding. Concern slipped out. "What's up with your liver?"
First time in a year Raymond had shown any concern for her.
Margaret's anger and hurt started to fade.
She was easy to calm down; just needed a bit of concern and she'd chill out.
The doc's words kept echoing in her head. "Ms. Hughes, you gotta tell your husband about your condition. He deserves to know."
Margaret pressed her lips together, looking at the handsome Raymond on the couch. If she told him about her condition, how would he react?
Would he care, treat her better?
Margaret didn't think Raymond could be so cold-hearted to wish her dead.
She hesitated, then spoke, "Would you care if something happened to me?"
Raymond squinted, speaking coolly, "What do you think?"
Margaret gathered her courage and made it clearer. "Raymond, if I don't have much time left, would you feel sorry for me?"
He stared at her for a long time with a look she couldn't read.
His fingers tightened around the pill bottle. "You look fine; how could you not have much time left?"
His tone was mocking. Clearly, he didn't believe her.
Margaret pressed, her hopeful eyes locked on him. "I'm saying if, if I don't have much time left?"
Raymond set down the pill bottle indifferently. "I don't do 'what ifs.' Come to me when you're really dying."
She should come to him when she was really dying. Did he think she was faking it now?
Margaret lowered her eyes, her lashes trembling.
He was still pissed because she had messed with Sarah.
Margaret felt the need to clear her name.
She could be misunderstood by anyone, but not by Raymond.
She pulled out her phone, found the recording, and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. "This is a recording of my convo with Sarah just now. Listen to it, and you'll know I didn't drug you."
Raymond glanced at the phone; there was indeed a recording a few minutes long.
He picked up the phone, stayed silent for a few seconds, and his fingers moved on the screen.
Margaret thought he had hit play.
After a while, she didn't hear the recording. Just as she was puzzled, the phone was pushed back in front of her.
She glanced at it, then looked up, glaring at him in shock and anger. "You deleted the recording?"
Raymond's eyes were cold, and he smiled icily. "What else? Should I give you a medal for faking a recording?"
Margaret laughed in anger. "You didn't even listen. How do you know it's fake?"
He said, "I trust Sarah. She wouldn't do what you claim."
Raymond calmly took out a cigarette, the blue-yellow flame reflecting on his cold, hard features, making him seem even more unfeeling.
"Raymond, do you know her? Do you know what kind of person she is to make such a call?" Margaret stared at him, questioning.
He took a drag, letting the smoke roll in his lungs before slowly exhaling. He smiled. "I knew her before you did."
After losing his parents, getting bullied in the orphanage, and being isolated, Sarah had popped into his life.
Margaret's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Oh right, almost forgot. Sarah's the one who introduced you to me."
The room was thick with tension.
The oppressive vibe made Raymond feel on edge.
Especially her smile, which was like nails on a chalkboard.
Raymond took another drag of his cigarette, snuffed it out, and spoke coldly, "You better stay away from her. Or else, don't blame me for being a jerk."
Margaret laughed like she just heard the world's biggest joke, her whole body shaking.
She gripped her phone tight. "She started it!"
Raymond yanked at his tie, his tone impatient. "She wouldn't mess with you for no reason. Do you still think you're the princess of the Hughes family, that everyone has to bow down to you?"
A wave of frustration crashed over Margaret, like a tidal wave.
It was clearly Sarah who started it, yet he blamed her.
Her eyes burned with dryness, and she felt a deep sadness.
The air was unusually quiet. Neither of them spoke.
Raymond stood up from the couch, took long strides, and turned to leave.
So, he came here to warn her not to mess with Sarah.
Margaret tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she still wanted to know the answer to that question.
If he knew she was dying, would he be sad?
Margaret looked at his familiar and imposing back and called out to him, "Raymond."
He acted like he didn't hear her, not even turning his head, and quickened his pace.
He hated her so much that he ignored her words.
But she still wanted to ask the question.
She wanted to give up completely.
Margaret blurted out urgently, "Raymond, if I really don't have much time left, what would you do?"
Raymond's steps suddenly halted.
She thought, 'He stops; he still cares about me.'
Margaret asked, her voice trembling with hope, "If I'm going to die, you'll be sad, right, Raymond?"
Raymond turned slightly, not looking at her.
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
Soon, the call connected, and Raymond coldly instructed, "Go look at some urns and buy a suitable one."
On the other end, Alvin was stunned. Why was he buying an urn?
Alvin thought he had misheard, but Raymond sounded serious, not like he was joking.
Despite his confusion, Alvin reluctantly agreed, "Yes, Mr. Howard."
Raymond hung up.
Margaret stood there, her hands and feet cold, staring at him blankly. "What do you mean by this?"
"Don't you get it? If you're gonna die, of course, I need to get an urn ready for you." Raymond finally turned around, smiling indifferently at her.
He smiled upon hearing she was gonna die, so indifferent, so happy.
Margaret's fingers clenched tightly, trembling with anger. "Raymond, you really wish for my death? If I die, you'll be this happy?"
Raymond said, "I stand by what I said before. When you die, I'll throw you a grand funeral. I'll set off fireworks for days and nights to celebrate your death. I've already got someone to prepare the urn, so you don't need to worry about it. If you wanna die, just die. Your life is a joke, your dad's a burden, and you're abandoned and despised by me. Living is a torment for you."
"Anyway, that day's gonna come sooner or later. When you're about to die, call me. I'll be there to collect your body." Raymond's tone was cold and indifferent, like her life or death didn't matter to him at all.
Margaret's face turned red with anger. She picked up the ashtray on the table and hurled it at him. "Bastard! You bastard!"
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