Chapter 58
Now, with him making this simple request, I had no reason to refuse.
Bryant and I were already living separately anyway. A divorce paper was just a formality to make the separation clearer, nothing urgent.
Besides, Timothy’s eightieth birthday was just a month away. It would be here before we
knew it.
Gary walked me out of the study.
“Mr. Ferguson is just looking out for you and the young master, hoping you’d take some more time to think things over,” he said gently.
I was about to respond when my phone buzzed with a call.
An unknown landline number.
“Hello, is this a family member of Christine Jackson?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“We’re calling from the RiverCity Police Department. Could you come down here as soon as possible?”
Panic set in before I could even ask for details, and the line went dead.
I rushed downstairs, only to be confronted by an irate Margaret the moment I stepped out
of the elevator.
“You’ve crossed the line!”
As she attempted to slap me, I caught her wrist in time.
My mind was preoccupied with Christine’s situation, Margaret’s drama was the least of my worries. “Get lost!” I snapped.
I shrugged off her grip and strode away, my heart in turmoil over what could have happened to Christine.
And there it was, that familiar black Maybach trailing my car, adding to my irritation..
What was Bryant up to this time?
Did he really think I’d let Margaret slap me without consequence, and now he was coming to her defense?
At a red light, I dialed his number, asking, “Why are you following me?”
A woman’s scoff came through the speaker.
“Jane, you flatter yourself.”
1/2
Chapter 58
It was Margaret, her tone sugary sweet. “Bry is just worried about me. He wanted to accompany me to the police station. This has nothing to do with you.”
I paused, feeling as though she’d slapped me hard across the face.
Right. She was correct.
It wasn’t just now; I had been deluding myself for the past three years.
Arriving at the police station, I didn’t even need to enter to know what Christine had done.
why
And why Margaret had come to the police station in the dead of night.
The Panamera parked at the Ferguson Group earlier, still without a license plate, was now a wreck, almost reduced to scrap metal.
Inside a cop led me to
Christine.
Usually so vibrant and lively, she now sat alone in a corner, resting her chin in her hands, her demeanor subdued.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up, a smile spreading across her lips upon seeing me.
My heart ached as I approached, gesturing outside, “You did that?”
“She already confessed.” Before Christine could respond, the officer interjected.
I tapped her forehead lightly, “Impulse is the devil.”
“But I had to take that hit for you.”
Christine seemed unfazed, slowly standing up with a look of plea, “My legs are numb, help me up, will you?”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I supported her, but before I could say more, Margaret stormed in, heels clicking loudly.
“How dare you touch my car?!” she demanded, looking down on Christine.
Christine, unfazed, clapped her hands dramatically, “Your Panamera, ‘poof”, gone!”
“Christine, is it? I’ll make sure you regret this!”
Margaret stamped her foot in frustration, turning to find Bryant, dressed in a sleek black trench coat, stepping in, “Bry, aren’t you going to do something? They’re walking all over
me!”