Chapter 8
“Margaret, still playing hard to get?”
Keith fumed: “You claim to love me, but what have you ever done for me?”
“Why didn’t you rescue me when I was trapped in Hawaii?”
“If you’d saved me, would I be like this now?”
“You offer nothing yet expect my affection? Dream on.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths, eyes blazing with hatred.
Had he not been confined to that wheelchair, he’d have lunged to strangle me.
“I’m giving you a chance to prove your love. Don’t throw it away.‘
The audacity. A furious laugh escaped me.
Last life, I saved him at the cost of my career.
Dug him out from corpses, risking my own neck.
His repayment?
Twisted truths, pinned blame on me.
Let his parents hound me into crushing debt before killing me.
Countless times he’d raged, blaming my “late rescue” for his crippled hand.
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As if everything I did was wrong.
Whether I saved him or not, it was wrong.
Did loving him mean I deserved such torment?
Keith’s tirade continued:
“Margaret, listen well–a wretch like you will never be loved.”
“Buy Anna’s painting now if you know what’s good for you, or else-”
I cut him off, patience gone.
“Know what Anna does for clients who buy her art? She sleeps with them.”
“You want me to buy it, but I don’t want her services. What now?”
My lips curled as I watched his face contort.
I hadn’t planned to expose this. Anna and Keith meant nothing now.
But he provoked me. His mistake.
“Lies!” Keith roared. “Anna would never!”
He glared venomously. “You’re the one trading beds for deals.”
“But Anna’s pure as a lily. She’d never stoop so low.”
“Doubt me? See for yourself.”
I flung a dossier at his face–evidence from my earlier investigation.
Keith tore it open despite his protests.
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Inside: photos of Anna in bed with different men.
She called herself an artist, yet barely knew basic sketching.
Her unsellable paintings became the perfect cover for her shady dealings.
Buying her art meant buying her.
Yet Keith, ever the fool, worshipped her as some pure goddess.
Clueless about her filth.
I’d planned to let it go–she wasn’t my concern.
Until she tried swindling me.
Fifty million? The delusion.
“No! Impossible!” Keith screamed like a madman, shredding the photos.
“Can’t be! Never! Anna isn’t this person!”
“Wouldn’t you know if you just asked yourself?”
I mocked:
“What’s the point of acting up here?”
Keith glared daggers at me: “Margaret, don’t think I don’t see through you.”
“You’re trying to frame Anna and ruin what we have. Did you really think I’d fall for your tricks?”
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“Listen well–I’ll never love you. Dream on!”
He painfully maneuvered his wheelchair away.
I just kept smiling mockingly. Keith, in this lifetime, I won’t love you ever again.
