Chapter 147
"Just your share from selling the ginseng?" Michael Stone frowned slightly, feeling a strange unease.
Was his wife trying to distance herself from him?
Why wouldn't she even take the money he earned?
"Now that policies have loosened, you can use this as capital to start a business," Emily Johnson said softly, her fingers unconsciously fiddling with the hem of her clothes.
Michael's eyes lit up. "You understand these things too, sweetheart?"
"I'll keep a portion for household expenses," Emily lowered her gaze. "When you make it big someday, you can give me more."
"Deal!" Michael grinned, pulling her into his arms. "Your man will make sure you live a good life!"
Resting against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, Emily's eyes dimmed with hidden sorrow.
When he truly succeeded, would it be the gentle, lovely heroine from the book standing by his side?
"I believe in you," she murmured.
Carefully tucking away the money, Michael hummed a tune as he headed to their private plot to check on the turnips and cabbages.
......
At the clinic, Margaret Lee curled up on the hospital bed, where she'd been for two days.
She didn't dare go home.
The thought of her parents' twisted faces made her tremble.
"Girl, my son saved your life. You can't just forget his kindness," an elderly woman with deep wrinkles sidled up, her cloudy eyes fixed on Margaret.
Margaret bit her lip. Though she'd paled from staying indoors after the harvest, she was still plain-looking.
When she woke up in the clinic, she learned she'd been rescued by a worker from the meatpacking plant—a man in his thirties with a slight limp, whose first wife had died in childbirth.
"Auntie, I... I don't know how to repay him..." Her voice was barely audible.
The icy sting of the river at that moment had made her realize something.
Why should she pay for her brother's mistakes? Why was her bride price ten times higher than other village girls?
"Daisy," the woman rubbed her hands together, "on the way here, lots of folks saw you two. Word gets around, and your reputation..."
Tears welled up in Margaret's eyes.
Between sobs, she confessed about her family's exorbitant bride price demand.
The woman gasped. "That much? My son only makes thirty-something a month..."
"I'll marry him!" Margaret suddenly grabbed the woman's hand. "Don't tell my family!"
Going back would mean being sold off to some lonely old man or forced to jump into the river again.
At least this man who saved her had a steady job and a home.
Three days later, Margaret quietly followed the woman home. There was no wedding feast, no dowry—just a simple marriage certificate.
Meanwhile, the Lee family was frantically searching everywhere.
"Charles Clark! Hand over my daughter!" Old Man Lee kicked open the Clark family gate, his son in tow.
Charles grabbed a shovel, blocking the doorway. "I told you—I haven't seen Daisy!"
The father and son ransacked the yard in a frenzy until village officials arrived and dragged them away.
As night fell, Charles watched their retreating figures, his brow furrowed.
Where had Daisy gone?