The Officer's Runaway Wife & Secret Son novel Chapter 448

Margot’s expression faltered for a moment.

"...Medicine? Are you investigating me?"

Realization dawned, and she burst out laughing. The sound was jarring in the quiet cemetery.

Her laughter turned into a fit of coughing, and she pressed a hand to her chest.

"So that's what you're afraid of," she said between coughs, pointing at Rhys. "You don't think I'm trying to drug you and Clara, do you? You're overthinking things. I barely have enough of that medicine for myself."

Rhys watched her with cold eyes.

He didn't believe a word she said.

"Rhys, you always assume the worst in people. Back then, you didn't believe Clara when she said I was targeting her, and now you don't believe me."

Margot stopped coughing and looked at him intently. "Actually, I didn't come here today to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to ask you a question."

She slowed her speech, articulating each word with care.

"If—and I'm just saying if—that car accident had never happened, and we had grown up normally, and Clara wasn't in your life... if I were a healthy, normal person who could run and jump and play every day..."

"Would you... have liked me, even just a little?"

She asked with such earnestness, as if it were a puzzle that had plagued her for half a lifetime and demanded an answer.

The mix of resentment, bitterness, dependence, and jealousy had grown through her like a toxic vine, its original color long since lost.

Looking at the person before him, Rhys found her pathetic, but he no longer felt a shred of pity.

"No," he answered, his tone crisp and final.

The single word shattered Margot's fragile hope.

Rhys continued, "There are no 'what ifs' in my life. I love Clara. It wouldn't matter how many times we did it over; the result would be the same."

Margot’s eyes dimmed, and the smile on her lips vanished.

She looked at his calm face, her fingers digging fiercely into the palm of her hand inside her coat pocket. She slowly nodded.

She looked down at the crushed snow by her feet.

On the stone path, their footprints overlapped, making it impossible to tell which were hers and which were his.

But they had never been walking the same path.

She wanted to laugh but found she couldn't even lift the corners of her mouth.

When she pulled her hand from her pocket, several bloody crescents from her nails were imprinted on her palm. She stared at the marks for a long, long time.

An hour later, the memorial service concluded.

Rhys didn't bother with the aftermath and went straight to the parking lot.

He was finished a little earlier than he had expected.

The thought of Clara and Felix waiting for him at home quickly erased the gloom and irritation that Margot and Owen had brought.

He started the car, turned the wheel, and drove toward Oakridge Avenue.