3
Margery’s POV
The next day, I transferred my mother’s body to the mourning hall.
I hadn’t planned on holding a grand funeral, but Gibson arrived with a large group of people.
When he saw me kneeling on the ground, he hurried over. His eyes brimmed with such tenderness and concern it was almost overflowing.
“Margery,” he said softly, “let me handle this. Go inside and get some rest. Oh, and…”
As if suddenly remembering something, he added, “The wedding… We should postpone it for now.”
He reached out and stroked my head in a gesture meant to soothe.
I lifted my gaze to him, my face expressionless.
“No,” I replied flatly. “The wedding will go on as planned. There are six days left. My mother would want to see it happen.”
My eyes reddened as I spoke.
Gibson frowned, clearly taken aback by my insistence. But when he saw the unwavering look in my eyes, he finally gave a small nod.
Just then, his phone rang. He shot me a brief, guarded glance before stepping inside to answer the call.
That left me alone to face the stares of the people he had brought with him.
From the very beginning, their eyes had carried malice. After hearing my words, their expressions turned openly hostile.
“Her own mother just died, and she still insists on holding a wedding? What kind of person does that? She’s no better than a monster.”
Their cold, scornful gazes swept over me.
“If it weren’t for her mother, Margery wouldn’t even be able to touch the hem of Mr. Amenoff’s sleeve. He could have chosen the woman he truly loves.”
A woman’s sharp, harsh gaze pierced me like arrows.
“Who knows, when her mother saved Mr. Amenoff’s family years ago, maybe she staged that all along. And this car accident, being dragged out of the operating room—maybe it was just someone finally taking revenge. Serves her right to die.”
My body trembled with rage. I staggered to my feet, hand raised, ready to strike them.
But just then, Wanda suddenly rushed in through the doorway, throwing herself between me and the others.
The crisp crack of a slap echoed through the hall. Wanda’s eyes instantly filled with tears.
The sight of her only stoked my fury further. I swung my hand again, aiming another slap at her.
At that exact moment, Gibson emerged from inside and caught the scene unfolding before him.
In two quick strides, he shoved me back with force, his voice booming with anger. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I froze for a second—but only a second. Then, without hesitation, I wrenched free from his grip and brought my hand crashing down on Wanda’s face once more.
“Can’t you see?” I snapped. “I’m teaching these people a lesson for causing a scene at someone else’s mother’s funeral like the animals they are!”
Gibson hadn’t expected those words. He faltered, stunned, before his gaze flicked over the faces of the people behind Wanda. At that moment, he seemed to understand something.
His brows drew together tightly. When his eyes returned to me, they carried a trace of pity.
But then, Wanda let out a faint cry of pain in his arms.
Immediately, Gibson’s attention shifted. He no longer looked at me.
He scooped Wanda up in his arms and strode toward the door, calling out over his shoulder.
“Call every available doctor from the nearby hospitals, no matter the cost!”
For two slaps, he was willing to gather an army of doctors.
But when my mother had been in a car accident, crushed and bleeding, he had been in no hurry at all. He had even had the leisure to chat with his friends.
The bitter thought curled my lips into a smile, one full of irony and despair.
