Margarita instinctively tried to pull down her clothes to cover the wound on her waist, but before she could, Wade seized her wrist.
His grip was firm—unyielding.
Bloodshot eyes bore into hers, laced with an emotion he couldn’t quite conceal. Worry.
Margarita’s heart clenched. A sudden, piercing heat spread through her chest, as if something had stabbed her. But she quickly masked it with a smirk, her voice turning light and mocking.
“What’s this, Wade? Do you actually care about me?” she taunted. “I got this wound when you sent me to get the charm bracelet. Hit a stone pretty hard. Shouldn’t you at least compensate me? Mental damages will do.”
Wade’s expression darkened instantly.
“You care about money that much?” His voice was cold, sharp as a blade. “So much that you didn’t even bother going to the hospital? What, did you think I’d save you a little cash on medical expenses?”
Margarita chuckled, but there was no warmth in it.
“Hospital bills don’t earn me money,” she drawled. “But working for you does. Just cleaning up your mess, sweeping the floor, running errands—I make thousands in no time. If I went to the hospital, think of how much I’d be losing.”
The darkness in Wade’s eyes deepened. Without warning, he pressed his fingers into the wound on her lower back.
Pain exploded through Margarita’s body. She gasped sharply, her hands clenching into fists, nails digging into her palms.
Then, he shoved her onto the sofa.
“You spent years in prison and came out only learning how to love money?” he spat, his voice laced with disgust.
Margarita’s waist slammed into the armrest. The impact sent a wave of pain crashing over her, making her vision blur. But she still managed a smile.
“What else should I love?” she whispered, her voice laced with mockery. “You? Wade, do you still have feelings for me? You seem so concerned about my injury. If you still like me, how about another 100,000? If the price is right, I can still be with you—”
“Shut up!”
Wade’s grip tightened suddenly, his fingers digging so deep into her skin it felt like her bones might shatter.
Margarita couldn’t hold back a cry of pain this time.
His next words, however, hurt far worse than his grip ever could.
“Who would love a murderer?” His voice dripped with disdain. “Margarita, just looking at you makes me sick.”
Margarita exhaled softly. A small, almost inaudible laugh escaped her lips.
“Of course. After all, I killed your sister.” She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “If I had known that giving her that medicine would cost me my rich son-in-law, maybe I should have been a little more careful.”
Wade’s fury vanished in an instant.
It was as if someone had poured ice water over a raging fire.
All that remained in his gaze was dead silence.
Then, without another word, he let go of her.
He stood up, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was memorizing the moment—so he would never repeat it again.
"Margarita," he murmured, his voice eerily calm, "it's truly my shame that I loved you."
Then, as if severing the last tie between them, he reached for the string of charm bracelets around his wrist and yanked them off.
The beads scattered across the floor, rolling in every direction.
The crisp sound echoed in the silent room.
Margarita didn’t move.
She simply stared at the fallen beads, something inside her fracturing.
She had thought—no, she had assumed—that he had given those beads to Casey. But he hadn’t. He had worn them himself.
Why?
Why did that realization hurt more than anything else?
The silence in the room became suffocating.
Margarita sank to her knees, fingers trembling as she picked up the beads one by one. But her body was betraying her.
Her limbs grew heavy.
Her breath shallowed.
And then—she collapsed.
Motionless.
Tears slid silently down her face.
Why?
Why did it have to be ALS?
She would rather die tomorrow than endure this slow, torturous decay.
Her vision blurred. Her mind grew distant.
It would be over soon.
"Sis, I'm not feeling well. Can you check what medicine I should take?"
Margarita had just finished packing up, barely catching her breath, when Casey suddenly appeared, disrupting her thoughts.
Casey stood in front of her, clutching a medical box, her face pale, her eyes brimming with helplessness.
Margarita was about to ask what was wrong when, suddenly, Casey's expression twisted in agony. Her body convulsed, foam spilling from her mouth as she clutched at her throat.
"Sist… why…? I took the medicine… but I feel even worse…"
Her voice was barely a whisper before her body gave out, collapsing to the floor in violent spasms.
"Casey!"
Wade's panicked voice thundered through the room as he rushed down the stairs, scooping Casey into his arms. His entire body tensed with fear. "What happened?!"
Casey struggled to speak, her breath shallow. "Wade… I wasn’t feeling well… I asked Margarita to help… She told me to take four pills of this… I did… but… I feel worse…"
Her last words slipped into silence as her body went limp in his arms.
Wade's hands trembled violently. Casey’s pale face blurred in his vision, morphing into another—the fragile, fading image of Christine six years ago. His pupils shrank. His breathing grew erratic. The blood-red haze of fury drowned out all reason.
His gaze snapped at Margarita, sharp as a blade.
"Margarita!" His voice cracked with rage. "You're a disgrace to the medical field! If you can't save lives, you have no right to prescribe medicine! Wasn’t it enough that you killed my sister?!"
Margarita shook her head frantically. "No, I—"
But Wade wasn't listening.
Like a beast cornered, he lunged at her, slamming her against the wall. His fingers clamped around her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes—burning with raw, uncontrollable hatred.
"Feel it," he growled, his voice rough with fury. "Feel what it's like to be killed by the very medicine meant to save you!"
Margarita gasped as pain shot up her spine from the impact. She tried to struggle, but Wade's grip was merciless.
Then, before she could react, he grabbed the pills from the table, pried her lips open, and shoved them down her throat.
