Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson) novel Chapter 393

Gregory returned to his usual flamboyant and unpredictable self, leaving everyone around him guessing his next move.

Meanwhile, in the Myers family, Bryant had pulled some strings to find a reclusive medical guru to help Ramona. The expert came out of hiding to examine her, attempting to detoxify her from the roots. The reason Ramona had been in a coma was due to toxins affecting her heart, something the hospital's emergency treatments hadn't addressed at the core.

After a company dinner one evening, Molly lagged behind the rest of the employees, walking beside me, and asked tentatively, "Do you ever think you never loved my brother?"

I knew she was asking for Gregory. But just the day before, Klein had called to warn me.

I just smiled and said, "Never."

"Never what?" Bryant came striding over, confidently stopping before me, "Honey, I'm here to pick you up."

These days, he was the picture of a doting husband, always there to drop me off and pick me up from work, no matter the weather.

But once we returned to the Ferguson Mansion, I'd head straight to my room and lock the door behind me.

He tried every trick in the book to please me, thinking of ways to make me smile. But for some reason, it all felt wrong. In some things, once the moment passed, no gesture seemed to matter anymore. I saw a reflection of my old self in him.

"Jane, please open the door. I got some milk for you. It might help you sleep."

Bryant stood outside, knocking. "The staff told me you didn't sleep again last night."

If I didn't open, he'd keep knocking. Just like at the dinner table, he wouldn't let me leave if I didn't eat. He thought I was acting stubborn, but I couldn't stomach any food. The smell made me nauseous.

I opened the door, took the glass, forced myself to drink it all, and handed him back the empty glass. "Happy now?"

Then I closed the door again, relocked it, and ran to the bathroom to throw up everything.

Afterward, I took a pen and crossed off the day's date on the calendar on my desk.

Only seven days were left. In seven days, no one could control me anymore.

With days to go, I improved my work efficiency, staying late with Jeff to finalize the summer designs.

One afternoon, as I made myself a coffee for a caffeine boost, the cup slipped from my hand, shattering and splashing hot coffee over my foot. My heart started racing. A wave of unease spread over me.