Chapter 184


    Bryant’s mom, grandpa, and his kid were all gone because of them.


    “Jane! What kind of nonsense are you spouting?” Margaret stormed over,


    shoving me as she fiercely warned, “I could sue you for defamation, you


    know?”


    Teresa, who seemed less hostile, looked over with confusion. “Ms. Webster,


    what do you mean by those two women?”


    “What do I mean? You don’t get it?” Under Bryant’s icy re, I spelled it out


    slowly for Teresa. “Years ago, in your quest to marry into the Ferguson family,


    you pushed Bryant’s mother, who was pregnant for nine months, down the


    stairs. Have you forgotten?”


    “usations require evidence!” Teresa’s voice rose and fell dramatically,


    obviously furious at my allegations.


    As Timothy said, Teresa thought destroying the surveince footage meant


    leaving no trace.


    Reminded by Teresa’s words, Margaret also focused on the point. “Yeah,


    Jane, you can’t just convict someone without proof.”


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    “Evidence, you say,” I called Kevin, asking him to bring over the document I


    had prepared for Bryant.


    He was quick, arriving soon after with the documents, and I promptly pulled


    out the fingerprint analysis report, handing it to Bryant. “Take a look. It ties


    Margaret to your grandpa’s death.”


    Margaret tensed up, about to snatch the report, but Teresa stopped her with a


    look.


    The old were indeed wiser. If she didn’t grab the report, she could deny stuff,


    but taking it would look like she’s guilty.


    As Bryant examined the report, his gaze sharpened horrifyingly at the sight of


    the fingerprint match. “Why are your fingerprints on Grandpa’s medication?”


    “My… my fingerprints…” Margaret looked confused, though tightly clenching


    her hands behind her.


    Teresa softly suggested, “Margaret, think about it. Maybe you were trying to


    medicate Timothy right before he fainted?”


    “That’s right…” Margaret’s eyes brightened as she seemingly remembered,


    turning to Bryant with guilt. “That day, Timothy had an attack, and I was in


    such a hurry to give him his medicine. I couldn’t find it for the longest time,


    and when I did, he had passed out. That must be why my prints were on the


    pill.”


    I was appalled at her ability to fabricate stories. “When I visited you in the


    hospital that day, you told me you didn’t know where Timothy’s medicine was!


    Your story doesn’t add up.”


    Only those with something to hide resorted to lies.


    “When did I say that, Jane? What have I done to you? Now, to kick me out of


    the country, you’re fabricating all sorts of lies!” Margaret looked helplessly at


    Bryant. “Bry, I didn’t do it. You know me. I feel terrible even stepping on an


    ant. How could I possibly harm Timothy?”


    …


    I felt sick and looked at Bryant, asking, “You buying her story?”


    At this point, what Margaret said didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered


    was who Bryant believed.


    Bryant looked at me, his gaze deep and absorbing. “Is it true what you said


    about Teresa pushing my mother?”


    Feigning outrage, Teresa demanded, “Ms. Webster, I’ve always treated Bry as


    my own. If you’re going to drive a wedge between us, you better have proof!”


    I smirked. “You sure you want it?”


    “Absolutely!” Teresa didn’t seem afraid in the slightest.


    I pulled out my phone, dialing the Ferguson Mansion. A servant answered. “Is


    Gary home?”


    “Mrs. Ferguson, Gary left half an hour ago and hasn’t returned,” the servant


    replied.


    “Okay, I’ll call his cell then.”


    Teresa smiled smugly. “Ms. Webster, I’ve been part of the Ferguson family for


    years, raising Bry. Without evidence, I doubt Bry would just let this go.”


    “I think she’s just bluffing!” Margaret said confidently, unaware of her mother’s


    deeds or for some other reason.


    I didn’t bother exining, just waiting for Gary to pick up his phone. But the


    call went unanswered, the ringtone ying through without a response.


    “Okay.” Relieved, the call connected almost immediately this time. “Mr.


    Ferguson.”


    “Gary, it’s me,” I said.


    “Mrs. Ferguson? Did you get the fingerprint report?” Gary asked respectfully.


    “I did.” I cut straight to the chase. “Gary, Teresa’s awake, and I’m in her


    hospital room now. I need you to testify about something Timothy told me


    when you were there.”


    Gary hesitated before asking, “What’s it about?”