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I frowned. “What do you mean?”
After a long silence, he finally explained everything.
Emma White wasn’t dead! That was unexpected. She ran off in a fit and met with an accident. Old Mr. Carter, wanting Ryan and me to live happily and knowing I was pregnant, claimed Emma was dead, hiding her far away so he would give up. But his grandson’s obsession went so far that he even dug up her grave at night. Mrs. Carter had no choice but to relent, as she couldn’t bear to see her son in pain.
They’ve brought her back now.
Patrick sighed, still unwilling to give up, trying to persuade me further: “It doesn’t have to end in divorce, Grace. I can see he still cares about you.”
“Now that the truth’s out, just have the baby. With your family and the Carter family watching over things, Emma won’t be able to threaten you.”
“And then what?” I extinguished my cigarette, asking calmly, having grasped the situation.
He was momentarily stunned, seeing my indifferent expression, swallowing back his words. I ignored him and continued asking:
“Am I supposed to keep enduring like before, watching Emma show up before me now and then, while they continue their game of cat and mouse?”
“Am I supposed to have my child and let both of us suffer through this?”
“What han
happens when Emma gets bored and fakes her death again? Do my child and I have to die for her?”
It suddenly seemed laughable. I remembered not long ago, when he strangled me, calling my child a bastard, only to turn around and obsessively dig up Emma’s grave.
He knelt before Old Mr. Carter begging for news about Emma, willing to take thirty lashes, then came back and purposely pushed me into the fire pit.
We grew up together, and I know the deep–rooted flaws in Ryan Carter’s nature.
Ironically, he learned about Emma’s whereabouts later but still didn’t let me go.
Years of entanglement, in the end, is it that he never loved me, or just doesn’t love me anymore?