Chapter527 Mr. Windsor, Please Leave!
Natalie sat up, her tone cool and puzzled, “Oliver, what in the world are you trying to do?”
“Grandma wanted to see you,” Oliver offered an excuse.
And he wasn't lying; the elderly Mrs. Watson did indeed want to meet Natalie.
Upon the mention of Madam Windsor, Natalie's bluster deflated. Although she had never directly interacted with Madam Windsor, the matriarch had always been kind to her. Mr. Liam, Madam Windsor's protégé, symbolized not only Oliver himself but the goodwill of Madam Windsor as well.
“I’m divorced from you, I’m no longer a Windsor,” she pointed out, feeling no obligation to pay respect to Madam Windsor, nor did she hold any position to visit her now.
Oliver's face remained impassive, although the hint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
But he wouldn't tell Natalie that. He wouldn't say that she was still his wife, the daughter-in-law of the Windsor family, and Madam Windsor’s grandson’s wife.
“There’s a chair over there,” Natalie gestured to the armchair beside the bed, implying for Oliver to sit there instead of kneeling by her bedside, the last thing she wanted.
Oliver gave a cool glance to the suggested seat and, instead of rising, settled comfortably on the spot.
Sitting with one knee up on the carpet, he exuded a casual rebelliousness in his posture.
“Oliver, what are you really after?” Natalie snapped, losing her patience.
“Is there nothing you want to explain to me?” Oliver coldy countered with a question of his own.
Bathed in the pristine moonlight, Oliver's refined features appeared even more striking. His allure wasn't just in his genius intellect or his exceptional talents, but also in his handsome looks.
Such a man was beyond the reach of many, an object of desire for legions of women.
He was... the beacon she had steadfastly strived toward, seeking to share his spotlight.
But now, her path forward was nearly severed by her injured leg.
Natalie's hand clenched the bedsheets beneath her, while her other hand lay on her right thigh, saying, "Shouldn't you be the one explaining? Sneaking into my place, bringing me food laced with sleeping pills, applying ointment to my wounds at night... Oliver, if you feel so guilty, believing that I'm not worthy of your status, you really don't have to go to all this trouble."
Oliver's expression became cold, "Is that what you think?"
"The injury on my leg is my own doing, it has nothing to do with you, no need for you to feel any guilt." Natalie missed his point.
"It has nothing to do with me?"
Oliver stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow that enveloped Natalie completely. Backlit, she raised her head but couldn't discern his expression, only feeling the oppressive atmosphere hanging over him that made her hard to breathe.
He leaned over suddenly, flinging the covers aside and grabbing Natalie's right ankle, "This has nothing to do with me? Natalie, are you belittling me or belittling yourself?"
Instinctively, Natalie retracted her leg, kicking and thrashing as her ankle was gripped in his firm hold.
His hands were large and powerful, his palm dry and burning, firmly restraining her, leaving her immobile.
The last thing Natalie wanted was for him to see the abnormality of her leg, yet not only had he witnessed it, but now he was also holding it in his grip. It felt as if an ugly, festering wound was being forcibly exposed to the person she cared about the most.
"Oliver, let go!" she shrieked, like a cornered cat.
"If it's got nothing to do with me, what are you afraid of?" Oliver's face drew close to hers, his reflection visible within her wide, frightened eyes, cold and dark.
"Oliver, what do you really want to do? Just tell me!"
Her panic touched him deeply, and at last, he couldn't bear it any longer and released her.
Withdrawing his hand that had grasped her ankle, it was thinner than he remembered.
It felt so fragile, as if it could snap in half with just a twist.
"Mr. Windsor, get out!" Natalie pointed at the door, glaring at him, "Leave my house right now or I'm calling the cops!"
"Natalie, am I really nothing more to you than just a husband?" Oliver had intended to have a calm talk, but he hadn't expected it to devolve into this.
"Ex-husband," she corrected him.
Oliver's anger surged, his hand grasping Natalie's chin. "Tell me, what were you doing at the psychologist's office today?"
"Just passing by," Natalie replied, baffled by his erratic line of questioning. "Mr. Windsor, it's time for you to go."
"Natalie, do you have no attachment to the title of Mrs. Windsor?" Oliver ground his molars and stared at her, taking a deep breath, his last ounce of patience apparent in his tone.
"Yes."
Natalie met Oliver's gaze, her tone softening, "Oliver, if I hadn't stood in for Hailey at the altar, I might never have met you. And even if I had, I would've respected you from a distance as Mr. Windsor. We're from different worlds. Our relationship began with farce and scheming, perhaps doomed from the start for an unhappy ending. I conspired with the Watson family against you when we married, and for that, I'm sorry. So now, you don't owe me anything, and please don't insult me with alimony."
Oliver's stare at Natalie, gritting his teeth.
She had said so much, unsure which part had truly set him off, but he strode out, slamming the door behind him with a resounding crash.
It took Natalie a while to collect herself.
She eased herself out of the bed, walking with an odd gait to the window and peering out from behind the curtains.
At night, from the sixteenth floor, the figures below were indistinct - all except for the vehicles. Then, the Ferrari parked outside the complex flashed its hazard lights a couple of times before speeding away.
Natalie's soft voice slowly filled the room, "Oliver, I tried to stand in the brightest spot, to rise and be someone who could match you, shoulder to shoulder. But I failed."
"I don't accept defeat easily, but Oliver, we have to face reality, right? Mrs. Windsor doesn't have to come from wealth, her past can be mysterious, but she can't be a mysterious cripple, can she?"
"Oliver, I never want to see the people I've worked hard for become someone else's joke. You deserve the best."
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