Chapter 397: CHAPTER 397

Chapter 397

Before he could finish his sentence, my phone slipped from my trembling fingers.

I was standing by the window, my fingers trembling non–stop, until Bryant left. His Rolls Royce slipped out of Ferguson Mansion into the darkness of the

night.

Until its taillights vanished from my sight.

Twenty minutes passed before I could bring myself to open the drawer of my bedside table and pull out a paring knife, pressing it against my wrist.

Blood flowed, warm and glaring.

But the cut wasn’t deep. Not enough to kill.

Barefoot, I twisted the doorknob and stepped out, heading downstairs, where Gary met me. “Mrs. Ferguson, Bryant asked me to…”

He stopped mid–sentence, startled by the blood trailing down my arm.

“Gary, I don’t mean to be a burden.”

Pain seemed foreign to me as I grabbed my car keys. “Let the bodyguards know to let me out, or else Bryant will only find my body upon his return.”

Gary, eyes filled with pity, followed me to the car, hastily opening the door for me. “Why do this… Bryant only wants what’s best for you…”

“For my best?”

I laughed as I climbed into the driver’s seat. “It seems you’ve forgotten how we got to this point.”

If you haven’t felt the pain yourself, then you don’t really get it.

The car sped along the road.

I pulled over to wrap my wrist with the gauze I had been clutching, tightly

inding the

wound.

09.03

Chapter 397

On my way to Vista Town, I kept my eyes glued to the road, one thought consuming my mind: Gregory wasn’t dead.

He had an accident at the research facility. That’s where I’d find him.

Lazily leaning somewhere, he’d raise an eyebrow and say, “Jane, got a bit of conscience, coming to find me?”

Yes… It had to be.

“Beep, beep-”

Crossing a bridge over the lake, a speeding truck appeared out of nowhere, heading straight for me.

I had the chance to swerve right, maybe to safety, but for some odd reason, I ended up yanking the wheel left and drove right into the lake.

The icy waters of early spring rushed in.

The cold was piercing.

Breathing became more and more difficult.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital.

Somehow, I hadn’t died. The wound on my wrist had been neatly redressed.

Mark suddenly stood up, releasing a heavy sigh of relief. “Jane, you’re awake?”

“Mark…”

It felt like my throat had been cut open, talking was pure torture, my voice was all rough and harsh. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been following your car.”

Mark’s brow was furrowed with concern. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. No one can find you unless you want them to.”

“Thank you…”

“I didn’t understand at first. In that situation, most people would instinctively swerve right. Why did you go left?”

no–na

He picked up a pack of pills from the bedside table.

-Sertraline.

His voice choked with emotion. “I found these pills in your clothes… When did this start?”

“It’s Christine’s medication.”

I brushed it off, swallowing hard. “What about Gregory? Did the police find

him?”

“No.” Mark spoke softly. “Jane, you need to prepare yourself…”

“Why should I grieve when the police haven’t declared him dead?”

“You… look at this.”

Reluctantly, he handed me his phone.

I had been unconscious for two days and a night.

And the police, just this morning, had announced Gregory’s death.