Chapter 244: Giving You My Life

After half an hour, Maggie emerged from the bedroom, her cheeks flushed and a hint of irritation in her demeanor. She steadfastly rebuffed Nathael's attempt to embrace her.

Observing the flurry of activity in the wardrobe—five or six salespeople and brand representatives busily organizing the closet—Maggie paused, absorbing the scene. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Could Nathael have lost his senses? she wondered. How much had he purchased?

His previously roomy closet, which had only been partially filled, was now bursting with vibrant women's clothing and dresses. Even the cabinet containing his brooches, watches, and cufflinks overflowed with jewelry.

Turning to Nathael, her amazement palpable but unspoken, Maggie finally asked, "Nathael, just how much do you earn?"

Approaching her, Nathael enveloped her delicate hand in his large one. His voice resonated deeply as he replied, "I'll give it to you tonight when we get back."

Maggie looked puzzled. Give me what? Will he give me money?

"Aren't you afraid I'll steal all your money?" she blurted out, indignation creeping into her tone. Are you so in love that you've lost your senses? How could you let yourself be so easily misled? I've misled and taken advantage of you so many times, and yet you're ready to hand over all your wealth!

Nathael gently twirled her delicate, pale fingers, their smooth, round tips cool against his, like polished white gemstones. Raising his gaze to meet hers, he uttered in a hushed, resonant tone, "As I've mentioned previously, if you desire my life, it's yours." Maggie's lips parted in astonishment; her voice was momentarily silenced.

In his deep, mesmerizing gaze, she saw a resolve and fervor that bewildered her, as if he believed surrendering everything could bind them together. If not, he would rather be broken into pieces, willing to forsake everything.

Nathael didn't flinch or evade her gaze. He allowed her to scrutinize him. His dark pupils were deep and steadfast.

Maggie remained silent until they reached the car. She turned to look out the window, her heart heavy with sorrow. The more Nathael acted like this, the harder it was for her to bear. She dared not imagine what he might do if, six years later, she truly succumbed to the "poison." Could their past repeat itself?

Maggie's thoughts were complex. Her heart was filled with both the warmth of unconditional love and the bitterness of being powerless. These conflicting emotions intertwined, forming a dense and poignant ache. She wasn't sure if her situation could be considered unattainable longing, but she couldn't help but wonder how much pain Nathael must have felt in her past life.

Half an hour later, Maggie and Nathael arrived at a private club. Located a short distance from Nathael's house, the club occupied a tranquil spot. Accepting only appointments and limiting daily guests to ten tables, it radiated an aura of exclusivity. The entrance featured a modest red wooden door with two solid copper lion door knockers, reminiscent of a royal residence.

Nathael mentioned that the club's chef came from a prestigious lineage of royal chefs. He had originally cooked for state banquets in his younger days. His son now held the position of master chef, overseeing similar grand occasions. However, due to his advanced age and declining physical strength, he insisted on personally cooking two dishes when he was in the mood. When unable, he relied on his apprentices.

As a result, the club's guests were mostly high-ranking officials and dignitaries. The privacy was excellent, and the atmosphere suitably grand.

Nathael halted outside a private chamber with Maggie. He reached for the door, but Maggie felt a twinge of unease, perhaps due to her interactions with Clara in her past life.

"If your parents disapprove of me, don't put them in a difficult position," Maggie whispered.

Nathael was always assertive and decisive, making his decisions difficult for others to change. In a past life, Clara had been outraged to learn that her accomplished son intended to marry a blind woman who had insulted and tarnished his reputation. However, Maggie never blamed her. She empathized, understanding a mother's protective instincts. If it were her son, she feared she might have reacted similarly.

Furthermore, Clara, a genuine upper-class lady, refrained from ridiculing or tormenting Maggie, despite any personal dislike. Instead, she defended Maggie whenever she faced unfair treatment.

Despite their longstanding conflicts and differences, Clara ultimately succumbed to her son's persuasion and cunning, reluctantly accepting the situation.

With a gentle yet firm gaze, Nathael reassured her in his deep voice, "They will grow fond of you."

Maggie let out a soft sigh, her uncertainty lingering. In this new life, although she had halted her destructive actions, she couldn't erase the past misdeeds that had wounded Nathael. If the Harrises delved deeper, they might uncover her past transgressions.

As they conversed, the door swung open, revealing the private room. The woman who greeted them had a round, cherubic face—not chubby, but with a hint of youthful plumpness—radiating a delightful charm. Her round, bright eyes added to her pleasant demeanor. Demi welcomed them warmly. "Nathael, Maggie, you guys are finally here!"

Maggie's face flushed slightly as she subtly tugged at Nathael's sleeve, silently blaming him with her eyes. This is all because of you! We're late! Nathael remained composed, his expression unchanged. "Maggie sprained her ankle, so she's moving a bit slower," he said.

Demi's eyes widened in concern. "Oh no, how did you hurt yourself? Did Nathael take you to the hospital, or should we call Leslie for assistance?"

"It's fine, just a little twist. It's a bit swollen, but I'll ice it for a few days, and it should be better," Maggie reassured, sensing Demi's genuine concern.

"Uncle Marcus, Aunt Clara, Nathael and Maggie have arrived," Demi announced, stepping aside to let them enter.

A fit, middle-aged man in a casual shirt immediately drew attention. Despite hints of age on his face, he retained a youthful appearance. His silver-framed glasses added a touch of wisdom to his sharp gaze, projecting authority earned through years of experience.

Beside him stood a woman in a modified moon-white gown, intricately embroidered with delicate pink flowers. Despite nearing fifty, she remained well-preserved, her hair elegantly pinned up, only subtle wrinkles gracing the corners of her eyes. Her composed demeanor belied her age, exuding timeless elegance.

Indeed, Nathael's mother was stunning. It was no wonder they referred to her as the renowned beauty of Aquapolis. In his previous life, he had minimal interaction with Nathael's mother, but being around him, he had inevitably encountered her a few times. However, these encounters never truly revealed her appearance.

"Hi, Ms. Clara, Mr. Marcus," Maggie greeted with a smile.

Clara quickly regained her composure and warmly extended her hand to shake Maggie's. She then turned to Demi and instructed, "Demi, help your sister-in-law with a chair." Then, she told Maggie, "If you're having trouble moving due to your foot injury, Nathael should have informed me earlier."