When Love Breaks by jack

Chapter 112

Each time I thought of Timothy’s words, it felt different. It wasn’t that he disapproved of Bryant’s relationship with Margaret because he found her too cunning, but it felt utterly different today. What on earth had Margaret said to Timothus

As the car pulled into the Ferguson Mansion, I got off and went to the door when Bryant caught up, wrapping me in his arms.

I froze, his head buried in my shoulder, his voice vulnerable. “Jane, stay with me tonight, please. Just one night. Please!”

The memory of the medical report I stumbled upon in the study earlier that day flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy. “Okay.”

The atmosphere in the Ferguson Mansion was heavy, missing only Timothy, but his absence made the house feel eerily empty that night.

After a hot shower, I returned to the bedroom to find Bryant missing. Later, as I was drifting off, someone snuggled up behind me, and without turning around, I knew it him. For some reason, every move Bryant made tonight seemed laced with sadness.

“Are you asleep?” his forehead pressed lightly against my head, his voice low.

I didn’t respond, staying still, and then I heard his voice, filled with defeat. “Jane, I must have disappointed Grandpa by not being there for him at the end.” This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

I didn’t know what to say as Margaret’s terrible lies and acting came to mind, and Bryant believed them.

His voice was hoarse, “Did Grandpa blame me?”

Looking at the moonlight filtering through the curtain gaps, I spoke, “I never told grandpa, that while he was fighting for his life, you were with Margaret who was pretending to have stomach pains.”

It was the first time I realized how cruel I could be. My words meant to comfort and cut

deep.

“I’m sorry.” Bryant’s voice was all regret. “I just thought to calm her down before rushing to Grandpa.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” I didn’t want to speak harshly anymore, stating, “You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. You owe Timothy, not me.”

After some silence, he said, “I owe you and Grandpa an apology.”

Feeling a surge of bitterness, I pulled away from him, lying back and staring at the ceiling. “Bryant, she will be the reason you lose even more.”

We both knew who “she” was without naming her.

Caught off guard, Bryant took a long moment before deciding. “Jane, let’s start over.”

I abruptly sat up, turning on the light, ready to lash out, but then I saw his eyes red, tears welling up. At that moment, all my anger crumbled.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to remain calm. “If you’re doing this because of Timothy, it’s unnecessary. He never mentioned this before he passed.”

He insisted, “Grandpa told me earlier today that the Mrs. Ferguson of the Ferguson fardily can only be you.”

“And what if,” I stood by the bed, looking down at him, “Timothy hadn’t passed away today? Would you still remember his words? Or would you do it if Timothy wanted you to end it with Margaret?”

Bryant looked away, not answering, firm in his decision, “Regardless, we can’t divorce.”

“Are you informing me?” I was stunned and surprised by his statement.