Chapter 388 Honey, You Still Have Me
"Henry," Oliver began, his voice steady and calm, "I came here today to inform you that I personally submitted the evidence of Edwin's murder of Victoria. I've been aware of this from the very beginning, and I wanted you to bear the consequences."
Henry was a picture of rage, his eyes wide and teeth gritted, as he struggled to lift a trembling finger towards Oliver. His eyes, now a fiery red, were filled with shock and revulsion. Oliver, however, was no stranger to such a look from Henry, and a hint of satisfaction flickered within him.
This was the retribution he had long desired for Henry to face. It was the outcome he believed Henry truly deserved.
"Don't fret," Oliver declared, his tone laced with a touch of mockery, "At the very least, my mother holds some affection for you. I'll ensure your life is secure, so revel in this life of incompetence."
Henry's medical instruments began to blare, the shrill sound echoing through the sterile room. After a moment's hesitation, the doctors waiting outside decided to intervene. They had braced themselves for Oliver's wrath, but to their surprise, Oliver was already at the door, his hand poised to open it.
"Don't let him die too easily," Oliver commanded, his voice cold and detached.
The doctor, feeling the tension in the room, broke into a cold sweat and could only manage to stutter out a "Yes."
After a flurry of activity and an emergency examination, it was determined that Henry's emotional outburst was the only major concern. A few nurses huddled together, whispering amongst themselves.
"Oliver is actually quite compassionate. I heard that Henry never fulfilled his duties as a father towards him. If it were anyone else, they wouldn't spend as much as Oliver does, hiring the best doctors and caregivers."
"That's true. If I had a father like that, I wouldn't care about his life or death! What a waste of money!"
Henry lay on the hospital bed, his breaths coming out in ragged pants. Did Oliver truly wish to save him?
It was evident that Oliver's intent was to torment him, to witness Henry live in a half-dead, undignified state.
Henry contemplated removing the medical instruments himself, to end his life and escape Oliver's relentless insults. But he didn't want to die. He feared death. If he could live one more minute, it would be worth it.
As the sun began to set, Oliver gazed out the window, the fading rays making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, rubbing them gently. Natalie, who had been standing silently by his side, chose this moment to approach him. She took his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Oliver bent down to embrace Natalie tightly. They were alone. Natalie returned the embrace softly, running her hand through his hair. "Honey, don't be sad," she whispered, her voice warm and comforting.
"He's not worth it. Even though he may be your father, he's not worthy of that title."
"I'm not sad," Oliver murmured, his head buried in Natalie's neck, his voice vibrating slightly. "Natalie."
"Yes?"
"From now on, it's just you and me."
Natalie laughed softly, her hands cupping Oliver's face.
Naturally, Oliver's words trailed off.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
Despite his intense hatred for Henry, he was still the father he had yearned for in his childhood, the man his mother had loved deeply.
He had even destroyed Henry's life with his own hands, leading him down a long, undignified path towards death.
In front of Natalie, he once again displayed his ruthless side.
But was he truly heartless?
Natalie didn't think so, for she felt no sympathy for Henry.
In some ways, Natalie was even more heartless than Oliver.
"Oliver, you still have me," Natalie reassured him, her hands still cradling his face. She rose on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You don't mind that I have no known parents, right?"
For a few seconds, Oliver studied Natalie with a serious gaze. Then, gently cradling the back of her head, he leaned down to bestow a kiss upon her.
As fate would have it, Jamie arrived just in time to witness their intimate exchange.
Embarrassment washed over him, and he swiftly controlled his movements. He turned around, walked backward, and sought refuge behind a large tree. There, he concealed himself, patiently waiting for their kiss to conclude before revealing his presence.
Natalie, her lips still flushed from the kiss, climbed into the car. She couldn't shake off the feeling that Jamie's gaze held a deeper meaning, which left her in an awkward state.
Jamie, however, was innocent in the matter; he hadn't intended to intrude on their private moment. "Oh, by the way," he began, "the Watson family sent a message asking if you want to attend Miss Hailey's funeral?"
Ideally, this was a question Robert should have posed to Natalie. But Natalie had publicly severed ties with the Watson family. Despite Robert's outward dismissal of Mrs. Watson's previous affidavit as the ramblings of a madwoman, he had inwardly accepted the harsh truth: Natalie was not his daughter.
Yet, wasn't Lucas still his son? If Robert could somehow maintain a semblance of a relationship with Natalie and Oliver, it would be for the best.
"What am I going to do there? I'm not going," Natalie retorted, a hint of amusement in her voice. She was no daughter of the Watson family. Aside from Lucas, the Watson clan held no significance for her, whether they were alive or dead.
Jamie acknowledged her decision with a simple "yes," assuring her that he would handle the communication with the Watson family. "Also, Lucas called himself. He said he won't be attending either."
"Alright then." If Lucas himself didn't wish to attend, Natalie wouldn't force him. Hailey had never played the part of an older sister to Lucas.
"What is it?" Natalie queried, noticing Oliver's intent gaze. She turned her head to meet his eyes.
"Looking at my wife's way of handling things, we are a perfect match," Oliver quipped, a rare joke escaping his lips.
Natalie glanced at him and laughed. "Who said we were a perfect match?"
The day of Hailey's funeral was marked by a drizzling rain.
Attendance was sparse. Hailey's former status as a renowned socialite and the prestige of the Watson family had long since faded.
The industry was well aware of Hailey's misdeeds. Associating too closely with her could only invite trouble. Most chose to send a discreet gift rather than attend in person.
The only gossip that circulated in the industry was about the chilling wail heard at Hailey's funeral. The mournful cry sent shivers down the spines of those present.
The source of the wail was later revealed to be Mrs. Watson. She appeared disheveled, her clothes in disarray, a picture of insanity. This lent credibility to Robert's previous claims about "Mrs. Watson's mental state." Consequently, Mrs. Watson was sent to a remote sanatorium, destined to spend her remaining days there.
Edwin, unmarried and childless, had his stocks transferred to Oliver's name after being sentenced to life imprisonment. Oliver became the major shareholder of the Windsor Group.
Thus, Natalie's lunch delivery location changed to the headquarters of the Windsor Group.
At a morning meeting at the Windsor Group, Oliver coldly berated a group of executives, resulting in the termination of a third of them. The company was in turmoil.
Edwin's interference over the past year had caused the Windsor Group's performance to plummet. This was not only due to Edwin's attempts to thwart Oliver's success but also because Edwin himself was incompetent and had surrounded himself with inept individuals.
"Where is Arthur?" Oliver demanded, slamming a file onto his desk. He couldn't bear to look at such incompetence any longer.
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