Ferdinand looked at her, his handsome features softened by a faint smile. “You let Bryn go.”
It wasn’t an accusation, just a simple statement.
Mary reached up and helped him out of his suit jacket, then turned to hang it neatly on the coat rack.
“Briony once helped me, Ferdinand. I couldn’t stand by and watch you drive her to her death.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll be angry?”
His voice was like ice, his gaze fixed on her with a chilling detachment, as if she were a stranger.
But she was carrying his child.
“I am afraid, Ferdinand. But I’m more afraid you’ll regret this. Briony isn’t as docile as she seems. She’s stubborn—if she doesn’t want to stay, no matter what you do, you’ll just push her to the edge. If you keep tightening your grip, the only escape she’ll see is death.”
Mary turned to face him, her eyes unwavering. “I love you. Even knowing you only see me as a means to an end, I don’t regret any of it. But Ferdinand—you have nothing to fear. You still have this child. This is your and Briony’s baby. As long as the child is born safely, the bond between you and her will never truly break. So why rush things now?”
Ferdinand studied her quietly. He had to admit—she knew how to calm him down.
It was true; the child was all that mattered to him now.
He’d gone through so much to have this baby.
So, until the child was born, he could tolerate almost anything Mary did.
Because he wanted this baby to come into the world healthy and safe.
Mary was clever; she knew exactly how to use the child as her shield.
But even shields have an expiration date.
“Mary, I suggest you behave yourself. The more you anger me now, the worse things will be for you once the baby is born.”
Mary walked over, slipped her arms around his neck, and rose up on her toes.
She brushed a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Ferdinand, this is the only time I’ll disobey you. I promise, never again.”
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