Chapter 8
"I'll say it again," Richard's tone carried an irrefutable command. "Apologize to Jennifer."
He didn't ask about causes or consequences, didn't question right or wrong. If it involved Matthew, she was automatically guilty.
Jennifer covered her face, but deep in her eyes lurked undisguised triumph.
Margaret looked at Richard, suddenly feeling exhausted. She turned to Jennifer and, under Richard's icy stare, forced words from her dry throat.
"I'm sorry."
Margaret's voice was barely audible, her heart utterly shattered.
After speaking, she lowered her eyes to the coffee-stained scarf around her neck. The burned skin beneath stung sharply, yet that pain paled compared to the wound inflicted by Richard's demand for an apology.
Richard's expression didn't soften with her compliance. Instead, it darkened further.
What he despised most was her submissiveness, as if the whole world owed her something.
Margaret seemed not to notice. She slowly untied the scarf and crumpled it in her palm.
Then she raised her head, her gaze passing over Jennifer to fix directly on Richard.
"I'm not feeling well and fear I can't fulfill my duties in the Strategic Development Department. I request to resign."
Resign?
This word stunned everyone present, including Richard.
He had expected tears, protests, or continued silent resistance—not her choosing to leave outright.
For a moment, an indescribable emotion flickered across his heart, like a sudden prick.
Jennifer's heart sank. She couldn't let Margaret escape so easily.
She quickly stepped forward, taking Richard's arm and speaking in a soft, delicate voice with perfectly calibrated concern. "Richie, don't be angry with Margaret. She probably... probably wants more time to prepare for Matthew's release, which is why she wants to resign. After all, they..."
She left the sentence unfinished, but her meaning couldn't have been clearer.
Matthew. Always Matthew.
That barely perceptible hesitation in Richard's heart instantly burned away in the raging fire of jealousy.
Her resignation was a pretense—her true intention was to see Matthew!
Was she really that desperate?
"Resign, is it?" Richard hissed through clenched teeth, suddenly grabbing Margaret's wrist. "Come with me!"
Ignoring the shocked stares around them, he dragged Margaret toward the exit.
Margaret stumbled, dropping the silk scarf.
Jennifer eyed the fallen scarf, a victorious smile playing on her lips before she discreetly kicked it toward the trash can in the corner.
---
Throughout the journey, Richard maintained a threatening silence.
Employees in the corridor parted before them, casting curious and excited glances as they passed.
Richard slammed the CEO's office door shut behind them.
He threw Margaret onto the sofa and loomed over her.
"Want to resign?" He gave a cold laugh, loosening his tie. "You're certainly going to great lengths to welcome Matthew back."
Margaret's wrist was red from his grip. Curled on the sofa, she looked up at this furious man, finding the situation both absurd and laughable.
"If your so-called resignation is about going home to prepare for pregnancy, I might consider it," Richard's tone carried a hint of condescension. "But remember—behave yourself. Stop provoking Jennifer, and stop thinking about people and things you shouldn't."
Pregnancy?
Margaret felt like she'd just heard the century's greatest joke.
She looked at Richard, her eyes brimming with sorrow as tears fell uncontrollably. "Richard, in your eyes, is even my breathing wrong?"
Her words struck a nerve. He hated when she challenged him this way.
"You want a child, is that it?" she asked softly, her voice heavy with mockery. "Then you should ask Jennifer. She's young, beautiful, and healthy. She can give you children—dozens if you want."
"Shut up!" Richard's control snapped completely.
"What's wrong?" Margaret's smile grew colder. "You made her deputy manager, brought her to meetings, defended her in front of everyone—isn't that because you want her to legitimately replace me and bear the Neville family heir? Now you talk to me about pregnancy. Doesn't that disgust you?"
"Margaret!" Richard roared, gripping the back of her neck and roughly pressing her against the floor-to-ceiling window. "You want to know if I'm disgusted? Let me show you exactly how I feel!"
His kiss landed brutally, carrying punishment and possession.
The sound of tearing fabric seemed especially harsh in the quiet office.
Margaret didn't struggle. She simply stared vacantly at the ceiling. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.
She let him vent his jealousy-fueled madness while her stomach churned with nausea—a side effect of her chemotherapy medication.
---
By evening, the atmosphere in the department remained tense.
Jennifer gathered her things and walked to the center of the office on her high heels. Suddenly, she clutched her forehead and swayed, her face displaying fragile suffering.
"I'm so dizzy," she said weakly. "That slap from Margaret might have caused a mild concussion. I'm seeing double."
Several colleagues immediately surrounded her with concern.
Just then, Richard emerged from his office.
He had changed into a fresh suit and wore an inscrutable expression.
Margaret followed behind him, her face paler than paper, wearing Richard's suit jacket to cover her torn clothes.
Seeing Richard, Jennifer's eyes brightened. She immediately approached him, her voice soft and wounded, "Richie, my head hurts so much. Could you... drive me home? I'm afraid I might have an accident if I drive alone."
Every eye in the office focused on the three of them.
Margaret stood behind Richard, watching Jennifer's pitiful act with disgust.
She waited for Richard's answer.
In her heart, she already knew what he would say, yet she still clung to a ridiculous, faint hope.
Richard's gaze lingered on Margaret for a second. When she remained silent, he turned to Jennifer, his voice softening. "Let's go."
Under the envious stares of their colleagues, Richard left with Jennifer without a backward glance.
And so Margaret became the company laughingstock—the lawful wife, publicly abandoned by her husband as he escorted another woman home.
She returned to her desk expressionless, gathering her belongings and quietly departing amid sympathetic glances.