Oliver scoffed bitterly. "Is that a complaint? If you want, I’ll apologize publicly. I’ll explain every mistake I made back then. I can do it right now."
Margaret cut in before he could continue, "There is no need for that. Nathan had already held the press conference. He said everything that needed to be said. And both Anne and Nathan made the choice not to drag their past into the spotlight. You should be grateful for that."
She stepped closer, tilting her head to the side. "Instead, you want to confess now. Are you trying to make things difficult for Nathan? Don’t say anything more. Don’t risk making people think Nathan lied to protect you."
Oliver’s brows drew together, hurt flashing across his face.
"Margaret, could you at least be a little kind? Look at . I nearly lost my life. I’m still lying in a hospital bed, and you have the heart to be harsh with . Do you really hate that much?"
Margaret faltered. The truth was... she had hated him so deeply. She had avoided him for over twenty years, refused to speak his na, turned her back on every trace of him. But the mont she had seen him shield their daughter from a knife without thinking, sothing in her had shifted.
She wasn’t sure if it was forgiveness, but the sharp edge of her anger had worn down. The hatred she had carried for years had faded. Yet, sothing within her still refused to soften—perhaps it was pride.
She turned her head, lifting her chin as she looked away.
"I haven’t said anything wrong. I’m just stating facts. Why are you getting so emotional about it?"
Oliver let out a long, weary sigh. He knew he couldn’t win with her. Margaret was like stone when she made up her mind.
"Alright," he said, giving in. "I won’t do anything that could damage Nathan’s reputation. I promise."
He paused, looking at her. "But I need to say this—I’m sorry. Truly. I know I can’t undo what I did, but... if there is even a part of you that can stop hating , please forgive ."
That was all he could say. Nathan and Anne had already let go of the past and embraced him again, but it was Margaret’s forgiveness he still longed for.
Margaret was speechless as she t his sincere gaze. She wasn’t angry anymore. The resentnt, the sharp sting of betrayal, had faded already. Her old wounds had scarred over. But forgiveness? That was sothing else.
She gave a small shrug. "I can’t forgive you. Not yet."
She didn’t an to hurt him, but she wanted to be honest.
"You wounded deeply, Oliver. The damage between us didn’t happen in a day, and it won’t disappear easily. But I’m not holding onto it anymore. I’ve spent twenty years in sorrow and self-bla, drowning in what-ifs and regrets. I’m done living like that."
As she thought about Anne, a small smile surfaced on her lips.
"My daughter is back. She has taken over what’s her birthright. That’s all I ever wanted. I have peace now. Maybe soday, the distance between us will shrink. Maybe I will forgive you, eventually. Who knows? But right now... I’m simply choosing to live."
Her expression softened a bit this ti when she looked back at him. "Take care of yourself. Get better."
Margaret turned and walked out, her posture graceful, her head held high.
"Maybe soday," Oliver murmured hopefully. It was not over yet.
Inside Augustine’s car...
"Are you hungry?" Augustine asked, one hand on the wheel, navigating the car through the busy road.
"Yes," Anne said. "I want sothing spicy. Crunchy."
He glanced over, catching her animated expression, and a soft smile curved his lips. "Alright. I’ll call the housekeeper and have her make sothing spicy."
"How about we go out instead?" she asked with hope.
He considered it. "We could... but outside food might not be the best for you right now. You need healthy als—and ho-cooked is better."
Anne let out a quiet sigh, pouting slightly. "Fine," she said, giving in. "We’ll go ho."
He caught the disappointnt in her voice. As he glanced at her, he saw that little pout, and it amused him. He chuckled, making a ntal note—he’d find a way to make it up to her.
The car pulled up in front of Augustine’s ho. He stepped out and walked around to her side, opening the door.
"Thanks," Anne stepped out.
Before she could take a step, Augustine swept her off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
She squealed, laughing. "What are you doing? I can walk, you know."
"I know. But I want to carry you."
He walked into the house, holding her close.
Anne’s smile lingered on her face as she rested her head against his shoulder. Looking up at him, she caught sight of his faint smile that made her heart flutter.
His usual cool, composed expression softened with that smile. He looked even more attractive.
Anne was drawn to him. She kept staring at him as if entranced by his charm. She wanted nothing more than to pull him down and kiss that rare smile right off his lips.
"Sir, Madam, you have arrived," the housekeeper greeted with a bright smile, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes.
Anne’s head snapped toward the voice, caught off guard. The mont she saw the amused expression on the woman’s face, her cheeks flushed scarlet. Embarrassed, she buried her face into Augustine’s shoulder.
"I’m dizzy," she murmured, trying to act as if she were sick. "Take to the room fast."
Augustine lowered his gaze at her, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Dizzy? You seed perfectly fine a minute ago."
Anne resisted the urge to groan. ’This man is going to ruin ,’ she thought, cursing him silently.
He was doing nothing to save her pride in front of the housekeeper, who was still very much standing there, watching, smiling like she knew everything.
"Prepare sothing spicy, but make it healthy," Augustine ordered, shifting his attention to the housekeeper.
"Yes, sir," she replied with a knowing nod. "Dinner will be ready soon."
That smile of hers was still there. It made Anne want to lt into the floor.
"I said I’m dizzy," Anne repeated, more insistently this ti, pouting harder.
Augustine glanced down at her again, pretending to study her face with concern. "Should I call the doctor?" he asked, though the glimr in his eyes completely betrayed his mock seriousness.
Anne caught it instantly, and it irritated her. "Just get to the room," she hissed under her breath, "and I’ll tell you what to do next."
That changed his expression entirely.
He smirked, voice dipping into a playful drawl. "Yes, ma’am. Your wish is my command."
He carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. He nudged the door shut with his foot.
The housekeeper chuckled to herself as she walked into the kitchen. "They are so much in love. Can’t hide anything."
Inside the bedroom...
Augustine laid Anne gently onto the bed, his eyes still gleaming with mischief. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in, his arms braced on either side of her, trapping her beneath him with that familiar, cocky tilt to his lips.
"Upset?" he asked, feigning innocence.
Anne pressed her hands against his chest. "It was embarrassing. The housekeeper was smiling."
"Smiling?" he echoed, clearly amused. He tilted her chin up with two fingers. "So what should I do to make it up to you?"
Her heart fluttered at the closeness, at the deep, rich sound of his voice. But she wouldn’t give in to him yet. Twisting her mouth into a pout, she muttered, "Nothing. You don’t get to make up for this."
She shoved him a little away and rolled to her side, facing her back to him. But Augustine wasn’t backing down so easily.
He slid in beside her, one arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. His breath brushed her neck as he spoke.
"How about I order sothing sweet to eat? Ice cream, maybe? Chocolate fudge, that fancy vanilla you like?"
Anne’s stomach betrayed her with a tiny growl, and her mouth instantly watered at the thought, imagining the cold, creamy sweetness. She licked her lips, tempted. But she couldn’t give in too fast.
She turned her head slightly and glared at him over her shoulder. "You think ice cream will fix everything?"
"Of course not," he said smoothly, his fingers trailing up her arm teasingly. "Tell what will. I’ll do it. Just say the word."
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Tell what you want," he whispered, "and I’ll make it happen."
A shiver rolled through her, and she tried to slide away. But Augustine tightened his hold, pressing against her, refusing to let her retreat. His hand slipped across her slightly protruding belly.
In a blink, he was on top, caging her in with his arms braced on either side of her head. "Where do you think you are going?"
Anne’s body reacted instantly, a pulse of heat rushing through her. No matter how many tis they had sex, no matter how familiar his touch had beco, he still had the power to completely undo her. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was just him—his voice, his closeness, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
"Where would I even run to?" she whispered, slipping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Even if I tried, every road would still lead back to you."
That made him smile.
"Is that so?" he murmured with affection.
She nodded, brushing her lips against his jaw. "You are the only one in my heart. I don’t stand a chance against you. I try to be mad, but you always make surrender."
"So, I’ve won again." He traced his finger slowly down her cheek, stopping just beside her mouth. "But I still upset you. Which ans I owe you. Tell , how can I satisfy you?"
He leaned down and whispered sothing in her ear.
Anne flushed instantly. Heat blood across her skin. "The housekeeper is still outside. What if she knocks?"
"Let her knock," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. "She can wait. Just keep your voice low."
With that, he kissed her, his hand already sliding beneath the hem of her dress. Anne arched into him, already lost, knowing full well she wouldn’t be quiet for long.
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