Chapter 12
I did not even notice when John came up beside me and took my hand.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life studying marriage with me after we go back?”
I blinked in surprise, then laced my fingers with his and kissed him without answering.
When I brought John home, my mother dropped her teacup with a loud smash.
“Lisbeth? Are you really Lisbeth?”
Her lips trembled, and her wrinkled hand hovered midair like she was afraid I would vanish if she touched me.
I knelt down and held her hand.
“Mom, I’m back.”
The next second, she slapped me hard across the face.
“You brat! Do you have any idea how I lived these past ten years?”
John silently handed her a handkerchief. She glanced at him, caught the meaning, and pulled the both of us into a hug.
A week later, Mom held a small wedding for John and me at the old Montgomery house. Just three or four close friends and family came.
Right as he was in the middle of his vows, the doors slammed open and a man in a suit stormed in.
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“Lisbeth! I knew you weren’t dead!”
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Reginald had someone watching the Montgomery house and followed the trail here.
Suddenly, he dropped to one knee.
“Lisbeth, I’ve been repenting every single day. I swear I know I was wrong. Can you forgive me?”
John tensed beside me, and I kissed the corner of his mouth to calm him. Reginald’s face went white immediately.
“John and I are already married. Please don’t come looking for me again.”
“You married him? What about me? Don’t you love me?”
His voice was sharp like he could not believe it.
I gave him a cold, mocking smile.
“I don’t love you anymore. Ingrid is your legal wife. Please leave, Mr. Faustus.”
“I already divorced her! I didn’t even know her that well. Andy had his finger cut off! He still misses you. Don’t you care about him?”
I froze for a second, thinking of the child I raised, and also the way he looked at me that day at the sports meet.
“People have to pay for their choices, Besides, I’m not his biological
mother.”
Reginald’s face went ghost pale. The bodyguards stepped up to escort him out, but he suddenly pulled a knife and held it to his neck.
“I really messed up, Lisbeth. I can’t live without you!”
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I stared at him, fed up. “You and Ingrid seemed just fine in the beginning. No one forced you to be with me. So why act all sentimental now?”
The look in my eyes told him everything. I had truly moved on.
He dropped the knife and left, utterly defeated.
Much later, on a quiet, sunny afternoon, my phone lit up with a message.
“Reginald had a depressive episode and committed suicide.”
looked at the screen, paused for two seconds, then turned it off.
John held me tightly in his sleep, and I nestled closer to him.
Outside the window, the sunlight was warm and bright. I have never felt happier on days like this.
