Chapter 184
Margaret's POV
The morning light streaming through the hospital blinds felt harsh against my swollen eyes. I hadn't slept—hadn't even tried.
Aria is gone.
The words still felt unreal. Aria Harrison, the woman who weathered every storm with an iron will—gone. All because of that ungrateful little bitch who destroyed everything we worked to build.
I realized Laura and Richard cannot divorce. Not now.
Grace is a Wilson heiress. Yes, she has resources we can't match. But even she can't destroy the consortium backing Laura now.
As long as Richard and Laura get back together, Laura won't stand by and watch this family fall into ruin.
But my relationship with Laura had been... strained. Years of treating her like an unwelcome guest had created a chasm between us.
The irony wasn't lost on me. The daughter-in-law I'd once considered beneath our family standards had now become our hope.
I swallowed my pride and called Laura personally. "Darling, would you join us for dinner tonight? I've prepared all your favorite dishes."
When she arrived, I forced warmth into my voice, helped her with her coat, and made small talk about her work. Every gesture felt like swallowing glass, but I smiled through it all.
"Margaret, this looks wonderful," she said, though her voice carried that familiar edge of wariness.
Throughout dinner, I complimented her hair, asked about her projects, and even suggested we go shopping together soon. The words tasted like ash, but I delivered them with practiced grace.
Laura's responses were polite but guarded. She'd learned not to trust my sudden changes of heart.
---
Laura's POV
After dealing with Richard's mother, I came to Richard's bedroom. The bathroom door clicked shut behind me as I followed Richard inside. He'd abruptly left the dinner table, and something in his expression worried me.
With Aria's obstacle gone, this was a good opportunity for Richard and me to repair our relationship.
"Richard?" I knocked softly before entering. "Are you alright?"
He was gripping the sink edge, knuckles white. When I approached, trying to slip my arms around him, he stepped away.
"Don't," he said quietly.
But I pressed closer anyway.
The struggle between us was brief but violent. He tried to push me away; I held on tighter. In the scuffle, I was shoved back against the marble countertop, the edge digging into my spine.
Suddenly, his hands were around my throat—not squeezing, but holding. His eyes were wild, desperate.
"As long as you need me, I'll never leave you," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
His grip tightened slightly. "You already have."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Before I could respond, he jerked his hands away, but I caught his face and kissed him hard, desperately.
We struggled again, our bodies crashing against the bathroom fixtures. The sound must have carried to the dining room.
When we finally emerged, Margaret's sharp eyes immediately noticed the marks on both our necks—red fingerprints on mine, a small cut on Richard's lip.
"Richard needs proper care," she said with false concern, her gaze lingering on the evidence of our struggle.
I nodded mechanically, though every word from her mouth made my skin crawl. How quickly she changes her tune when she needs something.
"Of course, Margaret. I'll take good care of him."
Hypocrite, I thought, watching her perform this charade of maternal concern.
---
Back at Our Villa
Richard took the passenger seat, exhaustion written across his features.
"Sleep," I told him as we pulled out of the driveway. "I'll wake you when we're home."
He was unconscious within minutes, his head lolling against the window. The stress lines around his eyes seemed deeper in sleep, making him look older than his years.
When we reached the villa, he went straight to the bedroom without a word, closing the door behind him with a soft but definitive click.
Still giving me the cold treatment, I realized. Even after everything.
"Richard?" I knocked gently before entering. "We need to talk."
He was lying on top of the covers, still fully dressed, the room shrouded in darkness with all curtains drawn. The atmosphere felt suffocating, oppressive.
"Let's start over," I said, sitting on the bed's edge. "Please? Can we just... begin again?"
I thought of Emma, of the family she deserved. "Emma misses you so much. She talks about it constantly—mommy, daddy, and her, all together."
I moved closer, my voice growing more urgent. "If the company fails, we can build another one. I have connections, resources. I can help you rebuild everything."
Finally, I pressed myself against his side, feeling the tension in his body. "I mean it, Richard. I'll do whatever it takes."
"You say you love me. How much?" he finally responded.
My response was immediate: "I'll do anything for you. Just like... just like you once did for me."
He reached up, gripping my chin firmly, then letting his fingers trail across my cheek with gentle touch.
"Grace is my enemy," he said, his voice flat as still water. "I hate her. I want her destroyed completely."
Fear shot through me at his words, but I tried to redirect his focus. "Richard, we can't waste energy on Grace right now. We need to concentrate on saving what we have."
But he wasn't listening. His hands moved to my shoulders, pressing me back against the headboard.
"Will you betray me like she did?" His eyes searched mine with desperate intensity.
"Never," I promised. "I would never betray you."
What followed was rough, urgent—his need to possess, to claim, overwhelming everything else. I endured it all, telling myself this was what love required. This was the price of keeping our family together.
The Next Morning
I woke early and threw myself into work, selecting locations for the new branch office. The morning flew by as I compared properties, finally settling on a prime downtown building.
The video conference with Russell went smoothly. His enthusiasm for the project was infectious, and for a few hours, I could almost forget the chaos of my personal life.
At least something is going right, I thought as I finalized the lease agreement.