Chapter 44: Maggie Receives a Gift
"No, we don't use it for…" Maggie blushed intensely, struggling to explain.
"This old man lacks respect!" she thought, annoyed by his inappropriate suggestions. She felt embarrassed, not for reacting slowly, but for her lack of experience with such situations.
Before she could finish, the old man interrupted with a laugh. "Is he not performing well? Don't worry, we have miraculous kidney tonics! Guaranteed to boost his vitality!"
Nathael was stunned.
"No need," he said sternly, his face icy. His intimidating aura warned the old man, who, initially eager to sell, merely sighed. However, Maggie felt tempted. Tugging at Nathael's sleeve, she whispered, "Don't be too shy to see a doctor."
"Say that again," Nathael said calmly, suspecting a hearing problem.
Remembering the rumors about Nathael's health, Maggie adopted a serious tone. "Mr. Harris, perhaps you should try… that?"
"Try what?" Nathael narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint chilling her.
Maggie nervously laughed, "Uh… that…?"
She trailed off as Nathael pinched her chin, his gaze dark and unclear. "Ms. Adam, you want to try it? Huh?"
Maggie was stunned. "Try… try what?" She realized he was referring to a treatment for men. A moment later, it hit her: he was avoiding medical help!
She resolved to persuade him to see a doctor. Early treatment could improve his condition.
Later that day, Maggie smiled understandingly. "Don't be sad. I understand."
"Feeling helpless is disheartening," she added.
Nathael chuckled, tightening his grip slightly. "Maggie, do you know what you're saying?"
"Mr. Harris, I forgot to tell you something," she said, deciding to change the subject.
"Tell me," Nathael said slowly.
Maggie blinked. "I have two personalities. The one just now… wasn't me."
Nathael was dumbfounded.
After returning home, Maggie enjoyed the rich, mellow coffee Nathael had brewed. She sat on the sofa, knees bent, savoring the aroma. Her relaxed contentment reminded Nathael of a proud, timid cat.
"Tilt your head," he said, applying ointment to a bruise on her neck. His movements slowed as he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to say who did it?" His dark eyes held hers.
Knowing he meant the bruise, Maggie softly asked, "If I tell you, Mr. Harris, will you help me get justice?" His eyes deepened, gaining a hint of shadow and determination.
Old vinyl records played softly, filling the room with the scent of coffee and Nathael's mellow voice.
"I will." His response was resolute, affectionate, yet cautious. He seemed reluctant to disappoint her, whether she was scheming or not.
Maggie held her mug. "Mr. Harris, sometimes you have to pay a price for what you desire."
Later, as she accompanied him downstairs, she felt a pang of reluctance. She didn't need to, but he'd come for her, and she didn't want him to leave alone. She returned upstairs only after he'd gone.
In her bedroom, she found a delicate gift box. Inside, a black velvet box held a vintage Baroque hairpin: turquoise, pearls, and diamonds embedded in white jade. It was exquisite. She knew it was from Nathael, but messaged him: "Mr. Harris, you left something behind."
He called, his voice low. "It's a gift for you."
Maggie smiled, rolling the hairpin in her hand. "It's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it," Nathael replied, his gaze softening. He didn't mention the effort it took to acquire. He'd simply known it was perfect for her—bold and dazzling, yet lively and clear.
"Did you forget your watch again?" Maggie asked playfully.
"I'll bring it next time," he replied gently. Maggie smiled, suspecting he might forget again.
After ending the call, she posted a picture on her second Instagram account, "Madagic"—her jewelry design alias—with the caption: "Maggie received a gift today!" The picture showed only her hair, ear, and the hairpin, her face partially shadowed.
Although it was a secondary account, it represented her passion for jewelry design. To avoid attention, she used the anagram 'Madagic'. She had a substantial following, unaware of her true identity.