When Love Breaks by jack

Chapter 115

Hearing that, I was momentarily speechless but quickly pieced together the reason..

Christine furrowed her brows in confusion, looking at me, and whispered, “Bryant suddenly changed his ways?”

“No.” I watched Margaret escorted away by the security, slightly pursing my lips. “He’s just feeling guilty, wanting to make amends.”

Timothy’s passing hit Bryant hard. Despite being Timothy’s favorite grandkid, he wasn’t there in his last moments. Moreover, he pissed Timothy off on the very day Timothy passed. How could he not feel guilty, regretful, and self-blaming?

And his way of showing it was to honor Timothy’s wish, making me a lifelong Mrs. Ferguson.

It had nothing to do with me.

After the funeral, I returned to the Ferguson Mansion, joining Gary in sorting through Timothy’s belongings. Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

The servants had gone through them once, leaving behind the clothes and items Timothy frequently used. Each piece I held gave me the illusion that Timothy hadn’t left us.

While sorting, I pondered and asked, “Gary, are you sure Timothy had his medication in his pocket the other day?”

“You had me make sure, especially with the weather turning colder, I’d check every morning to ensure Timothy had his medicine.” After answering, Gary looked at me seriously, “You… still suspect Margaret?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it.” I shook my head.

I

When I confronted Margaret, her reasoning made sense. In that day’s chaos, something could have fallen out.

But my intuition told me it wasn’t that simple. Yet, without evidence, relying solely on. intuition felt insufficient. And I wasn’t sure if my suspicions stemmed from an existing hostility toward Margaret.

Thoughtfully, I added, “These past days, have any of the servants come across a dropped medicine bottle while cleaning?”

Gary thought it over before confirming, “No, anything belonging to Timothy, they would’ve informed me.”

Gary paused and then continued, “I’ll keep an eye out. The bottle is small. We could have missed it if it fell in the yard.”

“Okay.” I carefully handled Timothy’s possessions, afraid of breaking or damaging

anything.

What was left by those who’d passed, once gone, was gone forever.

Toward the end, I held up a bracelet. “Gary, may I take this? I want to keep it in memory of

Timothy.”

The bracelet was something Timothy often fiddled with, so I wanted to keep it close to remember him.

I remember a line from a show about those who’ve passed. [I am with you when you talk about and remember me.]

“Of course, you can. If Timothy knew how much you cared, he’d be happy, even in heaven.” Gary wiped the tears from his eyes. Those past few days wore him out significantly.

Suddenly remembering something, he said, “Oh! Wait here a moment.”

He opened Timothy’s bedroom safe, pulled out two velvet boxes, and choked up before speaking, “When he found out you were pregnant, Mr. Timothy was over the moon. Seeing you didn’t want to tell Mr. Bryant, he made me swear not to breathe a word. He said you

were sensitive and thoughtful, that we should wait until you were ready to not to pressure you or to bind you to the Ferguson family just because of this child.”

“This is… Timothy’s gift for the baby. You have no idea. Timothy never took such care in choosing a gift before, asking me daily, “Do you think Jane’s carrying a boy or a girl? What kind of gift should I grab?”