Chapter 186


    I couldn’t quite figure out if Bryant was despicable or just pitiful. “So, you’re


    worried that the truth about his mother’s death might set him off again?”


    “Yeah.” Gary nodded, “The psychiatrist suggested we take it slow and wait


    until Mr. Bryant’s feeling a bit better.”


    “Okay.” My response was t, devoid of any emotion.


    I’d rather not deal with the Ferguson family’s drama anymore if it weren’t for


    Timothy’s dying wish. But then, getting home and thinking about Bryant’s


    plight stirred a faint sense of pity in me. That quickly evaporated, however, the


    moment I remembered how he yelled at me in the hospital room. That scant


    pity vanished without a trace.


    I suddenly found myself loathing my inability to be more decisive, hating that I


    couldn’t n things better.


    While I was lying on the couch, zoning out in sheer boredom, Christine


    suddenly popped by.


    I opened the door. “Why didn’t you just use your fingerprint toe in?”


    “Didn’t want to walk in on something I shouldn’t see.” Christine sauntered in,


    her hips swaying, kicked off her heels, and slipped into her house slippers,


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    ncing at me. “Why the long face?”


    “Thought I was striking the snake at its head today.” I tossed her a juice


    before sinking back into the couch,ughing at myself. “It turned out that I just


    startled the snake instead.”


    “You’re quite the poet today.” Christine unscrewed the bottle, moving closer


    with a smirk, “Too bad I’m lost. Can you spell it out for me?”


    “Margaret’s mother, Teresa, woke up today.” I sighed, “I had the evidence that


    Teresa was behind Bryant’s mother’s death and was ready to have Margaret Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDra/ma.O(r)g!


    shipped off.”


    “But s, no dice.” I shared the whole story with Christine in brief.


    “Great, the little bitch stays, and now, we’ve got an old one.” Christine rolled


    her eyes and sipped her juice. “But Bryant not trusting you? Not surprised.”


    I was curious. “Why not?”


    “When has he ever trusted you?”


    Usually, she’d have gone on a rant about Margaret’s family tree by then. But


    today, she was oddly subdued.


    I stood up to look at her and saw her eyes were all red. “What’s up? You look


    like you’re gonna burst into tears.”


    She didn’t hide anything, admitting, “Steven’s getting engaged.”


    “Yeah!” Christine nodded vigorously, wiping her tears haphazardly, and


    perked up, “Jane, let’s go have a drink, yeah?”


    “Sure.” I had nothing better to do anyway.


    Christine drove us to a bar she frequented, the early evening lights casting a


    warm glow on the chilly early winter streets.


    “Stop the car!” I suddenly spoke as we neared the bar, passing a five-star


    hotel.


    Christine slowed down, pulling over. “What’s up?”


    “Those two…” I stared at a man and a woman who had been cozy at the hotel


    entrance and were walking inside arm in arm. “They look like Albert and


    Margaret!”