Reborn I Refuse To Save The Traitors (Margaery) novel Chapter 160

**TITLE: Whispers Shape Distant Tomorrows by Aren Cole Vale**

**Chapter 160**

Russell’s hands felt like ice, each finger adorned with fresh, delicate wounds that had yet to form scabs, a testament to his recent struggles.

His visage, once marked by youthful exuberance, now bore the weight of exhaustion and despair, leaving him almost unrecognizable. The dirt-streaked fabric of his clothing hung loosely on his gaunt frame, while his hair lay in disarray, a wild testament to his neglect. His body was a canvas of injuries, both large and small, painting a picture that resembled a vagrant more than a nobleman.

As he looked into Margaery’s eyes, an ocean of regret swelled within him. They were filled with a desperate longing, trembling with unspoken words, as he regarded her with a humility that bordered on pleading.

Margaery felt a quiver in her heart, a slight tremor of emotion that threatened to break through her carefully constructed defenses.

In that fleeting moment, bitterness surged within her, sharp and acrid.

If only the memories of her past life hadn’t haunted her, perhaps she could have found it in her heart to forgive him.

But the echoes of betrayal were still fresh; she had been reborn merely twenty days ago, and the traumatic end of her previous life felt like a wound that had just been inflicted. How could she even entertain the thought of forgiveness?

The image of that fateful day loomed large in her mind—Russell, cold and callous, had callously discarded her lifeless body into the frigid pond. He had dragged her by her hair, tearing at her scalp, his eyes devoid of compassion, as if she were nothing more than the carcass of a loathsome stray dog, before he had flung her off the cliff.

And just days ago, at the recognition party, his brazen shout had echoed in her ears, “Speak! I told you to apologize. Are you deaf?”

She was neither deaf nor forgetful.

Thus, forgiveness was not an option.

With a slow, deliberate breath, Margaery withdrew her hand from his icy grip, a faint smile gracing her lips that felt more like a mask than a reflection of her true feelings.

“Lord Russell, why do you trouble yourself so?”

Her voice, though soft, carried an unfamiliar chill, as if she were addressing a stranger.

When gentleness reaches its limits, it can transform into something merciless.

Russell stared at her, bewildered, as she continued, “I no longer hold those matters against you. If you wish to believe Tessa, so be it.”

“I have moved out of the Chancellor’s estate and will no longer be an eyesore to anyone. You need not apologize to me. I don’t need your apology.”

With that, she shifted her position, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, deliberately distancing herself from him.

Russell’s gaze fell upon his empty palm, then shifted to the faint, indifferent smile that graced her lips, leaving him in a state of shock.

He pondered, ‘Is she truly unwilling to forgive me? She no longer desires my presence, but I…’

A wave of panic surged through him, leaving him flustered and desperate.

“Margaery, I know I was wrong. Please, grant me another chance, will you? Just once. I promise I will never repeat my past mistakes. Tomorrow, I will go to Inkwell Academy and tell everyone that everything I said before was nonsense, that I misunderstood you.”

His heart raced, an emptiness enveloping him as he leaned closer to the bedside, urgency etched across his features. “Margaery, I will kill Tessa to avenge you!”

He was like a drowning man, grasping desperately at a lifeline.

Once upon a time, Margaery had felt sympathy for him.

In the past, when Russell had been injured in a brawl at Inkwell Academy, she had been so distressed that she had abandoned her classes, rushing out to procure medicine for his wounds.

But that was a time long gone.

The past was a shadow that should remain behind.

“It’s not necessary,” she replied, taking a deep breath, attempting to set aside the memories that still clung to her, though her emotions remained tangled and complex.

It had only been twenty days since her rebirth, a time when she had desperately sought their approval, yearning to be welcomed back into their fold.

Her body still bore the scars of past pain, and the bonds that tied her to them were not easily severed.

Yet, as she listened to Russell’s frantic pleas, a pang of sorrow rose from the depths of her heart.

But reason whispered to her, urging her not to look back.

“Amber, please escort Lord Russell out. I need to rest undisturbed.”

Margaery cast one last glance at Russell before turning her back to him, closing her eyes against the turmoil that threatened to overwhelm her.

That had never happened before.

His heart felt as if it had been hollowed out. He stood there in a daze, utterly lost as to how to win her back or bring her back to his side.

Amber, growing increasingly impatient, had no choice but to push him out.

“Lord Russell, my lady is injured and needs rest. Please do not trouble her any further. Is this not the outcome you desired?

“Previously, you spread rumors about my lady everywhere, forcing her to apologize to Lady Tessa. Was it not your intention to ruin her reputation and drive her away? Now that my lady has left, you should be pleased.”

Amber’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she pushed Russell out, closing the door with a finality that echoed in the silence. “Please, Lord Russell, do not come again.”

Staggering away from the door, he attempted to explain, “It’s not like that. I never thought that way…”

“It no longer matters,” Amber interrupted, her tone firm. “Lady Tessa is well. You should go and take care of her. Do not waste your attention on my lady. I will look after her myself.”

Russell felt as though a knife had pierced his heart.

He thought, ‘Take care of Tessa Wallen? Tessa is a fraud. What is there to care for? I will find an opportunity to kill her sooner or later!’

Amber turned away, closing the door behind her.

The sound of the lock echoed, sealing him out, and a cold wind swept through him, chilling him to the bone.

After what felt like an eternity, he found his voice, trembling as he called out, “Margaery, actually… You know Tessa is a fake, don’t you? I know as well.”

Tears streamed down his cheeks, stinging against the cold wind, his heart heavy with guilt and regret.

“I told Father and Joshua, but they did not believe me… You are right; perhaps the Chancellor’s estate truly is not worth longing for.”

In that moment, Russell could no longer hold back his tears.

It wasn’t that Margaery was unworthy.

It was that the Chancellor’s estate was unworthy.