Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson) novel Chapter 114

He was so worried I'd call the cops again, so he didn't even bother going to the office anymore. Instead, he set up shop in the study for video conferences. I felt uneasy, zoning out in the backyard the entire afternoon.

...

The next day came the solemnity of Timothy's funeral, a gloomy atmosphere enveloping everything. A drizzle fell, sending shivers straight to the soul.

I finally left the confines of the Ferguson Mansion, clinging to Bryant's side, his grip on me firm as we greeted the mourners like puppets on strings.

His temper had been hot these past few days. It wasn't so much a change as his true colors showed. I had no room to argue. I tried telling Bryant again the night before that Timothy didn't demand we stay married on his deathbed and that Timothy only forbade Margaret from marrying into the Ferguson family. But he didn't believe me and said I was lying. And I was too tired to argue.

As the funeral began, I stood silently to the side in a black wool coat, listening to eulogies summarizing an eighty-year life that seemed to end all too easily.

The man who was laughing with me two days ago was then just a memory under the earth.

"Grandpa!" Margaret appeared from nowhere, her face streaked with tears, kneeling at the gravestone. "Grandpa... Why did you have to leave so suddenly?"

Before Bryant could react, I turned to Gary. "Get her out of here."

The last person Timothy would've wanted to see was Margaret.

After hearing that, Margaret stood up and challenged, "What right do you have to send me away?"

"It's your call." I left the decision to Bryant and walked toward Christine and the others.

At my words, Margaret immediately softened, clinging to Bryant's arm. "Bry, I rushed here as soon as I got discharged. I'm freezing!"

I pressed my lips together, staying silent, missing Timothy even more. Neither Margaret nor Albert would dare to make such a scene if Timothy were there. I also felt sorry for Timothy. He always treated me so kindly, and yet I couldn't even ensure he had a peaceful, dignified funeral.

Bryant's gaze was frosty. "Then leave with her."

"What did you say?" Both Albert and Margaret were stunned.

Bryant straightened his sleeve that Margaret had messed up, his expression cold. "I said, get lost. Don't disturb Grandpa's peace!"

"I'm not leaving," Margaret used to Bryant's indulgence, threw a tantrum even in such a setting, pointing at me. "She's about to be ousted from the Ferguson family. If anyone should leave, it's her!"

Bryant's gaze darkened. His voice was resolute. "She will always be Mrs. Ferguson, my wife."