Chapter 23
As the crowd dispersed, Margaret found herself alone on the stone steps once more.
Well, not completely alone. Ethan stood nearby, his mouth hanging open after witnessing the entire family drama unfold.
He walked over and circled Margaret twice, as if examining some rare species. "Your husband, your mother-in-law... what kind of circus family is this? They just left you here? He really went to find that woman?"
Margaret ignored him, focusing instead on trying to stand up again, bracing herself against her knees.
"Come on, enough kneeling," Ethan couldn't bear to watch anymore. "Keep this up and your knees won't be yours anymore. Let me take you to a hospital."
Margaret finally glanced at him, her gaze calm but distant. "No need."
She pushed away Ethan's outstretched hand and used her last reserves of strength to stand upright. Then, she walked past him and continued forward.
One step. Two steps. Three steps.
She didn't kneel again.
Ethan stood frozen, watching as she limped away, dragging her broken body forward with stubborn determination. He suddenly felt that Richard might have truly gone too far this time.
Margaret didn't look back. She knew that from the moment Richard had released her and turned away, everything between them was over. She had no expectations left.
Now, she only wanted to survive—for herself.
She walked slowly, each step reopening the wounds on her knees, making her vision blur with pain.
Up ahead, she spotted a group of young women with backpacks who looked like college students taking photos. One of them was holding the latest iPhone.
A thought instantly illuminated her deadened mind.
Taking a deep breath, she summoned every ounce of willpower to suppress her body's trembling and approached the group.
The girls noticed her, their eyes filling with sympathy at the sight of her disheveled appearance and bloodied knees.
Margaret forced a smile worse than a grimace, her voice terribly hoarse, "Excuse me."
The girl startled, taking half a step back. "Hi."
"Could I borrow your phone for a moment?" Margaret's cracked lips were peeling, and she lowered her eyes, her voice deliberately soft with just the right touch of vulnerability and embarrassment.
"My phone and wallet were stolen. I need to contact my friend to come get me."
It was a common excuse, and her pitiful state made it highly believable. The short-haired girl hesitated, while her friend tugged at her sleeve, silently warning her not to get involved.
But looking into Margaret's hollow eyes with their hint of pleading, the girl's heart softened.
"Oh, okay." She unlocked her phone and handed it over.
"Thank you." Margaret took the phone, its cold surface making her fingertips tremble. Working from memory, with shaking fingers, she dialed a number she knew by heart.
The call went through. The waiting tone echoed in her ear, each ring pounding against her heart.
Please answer.
"Hello? Who's this?"
The call finally connected, and a crisp, straightforward voice with a hint of impatience came through. Margaret's eyes instantly reddened.
"Hello? Say something. Who is this? I'm hanging up if you don't speak—I'm jet-lagged and exhausted..."
"Fiona." Margaret finally managed to force the name from her throat, her voice completely broken, heavy with tears.
The line went silent. After a full three seconds, the voice returned, filled with shock and uncertainty. "Margaret? Is that you? What happened to your voice? What's wrong?"
"Fiona," Margaret couldn't hold back anymore as tears rolled down her face like broken strings of pearls. "It's me."
She gripped the phone tightly and used her last bit of strength to make the most humble plea of her life. "Help me. I'm at Ebonspire Monastery."
On the other end, Fiona Lopez exploded. "You're WHERE? Ebonspire Monastery? What the hell are you doing there?"
Fiona's words came rapid-fire, "Where's that bastard Richard? Is he torturing you again? Just wait—I'm buying a ticket back right now. If I don't kick his head off like a football, I'm not a Lopez!"
"Fiona..." Margaret leaned against the cold stone steps, overwhelmed by relief and bottled-up pain that left her barely able to speak.
"Stop crying!" Fiona shouted, then softened her voice, filled with suppressed fury and concern. "Listen, Margaret. Don't think about anything right now, and don't be afraid. Don't trust any of those Neville family bastards."
"You need to get down from that mountain immediately and find somewhere absolutely safe to hide. Do you have your ID and documents with you?"
Margaret shook her head, then realized Fiona couldn't see her. "No," she croaked. "They're all at Crownspire Villa."
Fiona cursed under her breath. "Okay, listen carefully. Stay calm and don't let them know you're planning to escape. Richard has such a psychotic need for control—if you confront him directly, he'll break your legs and lock you up. Play along for now and find a chance to get back to Crownspire Villa for your documents."
After a pause, Fiona added, "I'll arrange the fastest overseas paperwork and tickets for you. Don't worry about money—I've got plenty. Once you're out, the world is wide open, and I'll take care of you for life!"
Fiona's words were like an adrenaline shot, restarting Margaret's nearly stopped heart. Yes, escape. If she could just escape, there was still hope.
"Okay." She agreed, returning the phone to the concerned short-haired girl with heartfelt thanks.
The girl waved it off, eyeing Margaret's bloodied knees. "You really should see a doctor," she said softly.
Margaret just smiled at her before turning to face the final stretch of stone steps leading to the summit. She couldn't leave yet—Camila's bodyguard was still watching from some corner.
Taking a deep breath, she dragged her nearly useless leg forward, limping but remarkably determined. No more kneeling in prayer. Just walking. In her mind, Fiona's words echoed on repeat.
"The world is wide open, and I'll take care of you for life."
She reached the monastery entrance, completing the "task" Camila had assigned.
The bodyguard predictably approached, expressionless. "Mrs. Camila Neville says to wait here. The car will arrive shortly."
Margaret nodded and leaned against a nearby stone pillar, slowly sitting down like a lifeless statue.
Before long, Camila's car pulled up. She lowered the window and gave Margaret a condescending glance. Though the process had been messy, the result was satisfactory enough.
"All right, get in." Camila's tone carried a hint of patronizing clemency. "Richard has already arranged a doctor for you. We'll take you directly there on the way back for a complete examination. You need to be in good health to give the Neville family heirs."