Chapter 369: Chickens Pecking

"It's important to live in the moment; we can't spend each day dwelling on violence and bloodshed," Timothy remarked casually, folding his fan.

Maggie chuckled. "I'm surprised you have that kind of insight."

"Is the brooch finished?" Timothy's demeanor shifted as he locked eyes with Maggie. He looked like a child anticipating a gift, yet a hint of darkness lurked in his eyes. It felt as though Timothy might break Maggie's neck if she didn't give a satisfactory answer.

Ignoring the shadow in his eyes, Maggie replied straightforwardly, "I've been swamped lately."

"Maggie!"

A hint of mockery flickered in Maggie's eyes as she calmly addressed him. "What's wrong? You used to call my name so gently." She honestly hadn't found his previous harmless, obedient demeanor weird, but she had to admit this one suited him better—it was more like the real him.

For once, Timothy was speechless, staring intently at Maggie as if she were a rare object.

"Stop staring," Maggie said firmly. "Even if you stare, I won't fancy you. Your face is fine, but your attitude is off-putting. Plus, you're late; I've already fallen in love with someone else." She felt a sense of relief in silencing him.

Timothy chuckled and reclined in his chair. Under the cold snowlight, his pale face seemed even paler, almost devoid of color. "It's been a month, and you haven't even made a sketch?"

It was clear he was still fixated on the brooch.

Maggie poured more tea. "My time is precious," she replied. "I'd rather spend every second with Nathael; I don't have time to make a brooch for you."

Timothy leaned back, displeased, his eyes somewhat elongated, bearing a slight resemblance to Nathael. "Aren't you worried I'll blame Nathael? Maybe I'll take two of his fingers this time," he said resentfully.

Maggie's temper flared. In one swift motion, she splashed the warm tea from her cup onto Timothy's face. The tea missed his face, trickling down his chin and staining his clothes.

Timothy stared at Maggie, seemingly provoked.

Maggie laughed. "Oh, so you get mad too? I thought you were indifferent to everything."

"Maggie, aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?" Timothy asked softly, taking a handkerchief offered by Samuel to wipe his face.

Maggie chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I'm practically on my deathbed; what do I have to fear? But honestly, I can't stand the way you talk about Nathael. Don't act like he's a puppet you can control. Don't forget—you've lost a leg before, too."

Maggie felt like she was losing her mind with the impending breakup with Nathael. She was acting recklessly with both the Camerons and Timothy.

"Also, Timothy," she continued, "don't use other people's concessions to justify your reckless behavior. If it weren't for your father, do you think he'd keep conceding to you? Master Harris feels guilty towards your father, so he's been lenient with you repeatedly. But you should know better; don't let your mind deteriorate along with your body. Don't harm those who've conceded to you."

After Maggie finished speaking, Timothy seemed thoroughly enraged. His face darkened completely as he growled, "Conceded? I never asked him to do that! I don't need his pity. Does he think he could win if he didn't concede?"

Maggie's eyes were cold and clear as she looked directly at him. "He can win regardless; whether he concedes or not, he'll still come out on top."

Timothy sneered, "You think he's faultless, but he's not."

Maggie retorted slowly, "So what? Someone will always love him! Timothy, has nobody ever loved you like that?"

Anger flushed Timothy's eyes, and the veins on his forehead bulged.

"Maggie!" He lunged to grab Maggie's neck.

But Leo was quicker. Perhaps anticipating their argument, like chickens pecking at each other, Leo had been watchful. He intercepted Timothy's movement, blocking his hand.

With red eyes, Timothy glared at Leo. Leo's expression remained stoic, his eyes cold and distant. He met Timothy's gaze unwaveringly and said gently, "Mr. Harris, you're an adult; you shouldn't resort to violence when you're losing an argument."

Timothy chuckled, his gaze shifting to Maggie.

Maggie smirked, challenging him with her eyes. She seemed to be daring him to make a move.

Timothy chuckled and reclined in his chair, casually picking up his fan. "Well, I'm not worried," he said slowly. "After all, you're about to break up with Nathael. Make sure to livestream it for me."

"Dream on!" Maggie cursed under her breath, boiling with anger.

Timothy smirked. "Tell me, who do you think will cry more—you or Nathael?"

Maggie resisted the urge to ruin his face. She smirked coolly. "Well, I guess you should stick around a bit longer to find out."

Right after she finished her sentence, Iris and a middle-aged man, accompanied by two medical assistants, emerged from a consultation room. The man held some medication and kept thanking Iris.

Maggie observed Iris, a woman in her forties with short hair and thick black-framed glasses. She had long, slender legs, a well-proportioned figure, and a healthy complexion despite lacking makeup. Despite being in her forties, she looked decent, showing few signs of aging beyond some fine lines. In her white coat, she exuded a chilly aura, yet also a sense of seriousness and diligence.

"Maggie Adam?" Iris's gaze landed on her, neither warm nor enthusiastic.

"Hi, I'm Maggie Adam," Maggie said, extending her hand with a warm smile.

Iris shook her hand and nodded. "Let me check your pulse first; I'll assess the situation."