When Love Breaks by jack

Chapter 111

I half expected Timothy to say, “Don’t die.

Bryant.” But he didn’t.

I could feel Timothy’s life slipping away. His voice was barely a whisper. “No matter what… don’t let Margaret marry into the Ferguson family. Promise me you’ll protect the Ferguson family.”

“I promise…” I was on the verge of breaking down, tears rolling down my face as I nodded. vigorously. “Timothy, did Margaret say something to you? Why else would you suddenly fall ill?”

“She…” A flicker of disgust and anger passed through Timothy’s eyes before he sighed. “Just remember what I told you.”

“I will… I’ll remember every word,” I managed to choke out, afraid to ask anymore, worried it might upset him further.

But doubt had already planted its seeds in my mind. Margaret must have said something

to Timothy.

“My dear, don’t be sad. Take care of the baby,” Timothy mustered his last bit of strength, looking at me kindly with a smile. “That way, I can rest in peace…”

The monitor let out a sharp, prolonged beep!

Seeing Timothy with his eyes closed but a smile on his lips, I completely broke down. He knew it. He had known about my pregnancy all along! But he never asked me about it.

Kneeling by the bed, my tears wouldn’t stop. Timothy, I will… I’ll do everything you said!”

I hoped he could still hear me. I hoped it would bring him peace.

“Grandpa!” A familiar, uncertain voice came from behind me.

I teased in my heart. ‘Margaret’s finally willing to let him meet his grandpa?’

Sounding as if he had taken a big blow, Bryant hesitantly asked, “Jane, what happened to Grandpa…

“He’s gone,” I replied quietly, feeling utterly drained, letting the tears silently fall.

Losing a loved one after so many years felt this way, even more profound. It was like being slowly tortured with a blunt knife, wanting to scream but unable to make a sound, forced to suppress it all inside.

The chill of autumn was getting stronger. As I walked out of the hospital, I felt as cold as if I had fallen into an ice pit. Just as I numbly reached out to hail a cab, Bryant suddenly appeared, pulling me toward the parking lot.

Too exhausted to speak, I let him lead me until he pushed me into his car, then I finally

asked in a daze, “Where are you taking me?”

“Home,” He said gently, leaning in to fasten my seatbelt as usual.

He said home, not taking me home.

Snapping back to reality, I prepared to get off, saying softly, “I’m going to Christine’s place.” Bryant didn’t give me a chance, pressing the gas pedal when I spoke. The car sped out of the hospital parking lot and merged into the traffic. The roads were still busy at this hour, but Bryant’s speed only increased!

“Bryant!” I suddenly came to my senses, gripping the handle above me. “Slow down!”

He seemed not to hear me. His lips were a tight line, his hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins stood out as if venting some pent-up emotion.

Luckily, he was driving toward the Ferguson Mansion, and after bypassing the downtown area, the traffic thinned out, making it somewhat safer. Unable to stop him, I eventually slumped back into the seat.