Chapter 295: Chapter 292: Just Because You Are My Woman (5)
’This young man, a man young enough to be my own son... He’s my daughter’s boyfriend, but he won’t marry her. He’s spent so much of our family’s money, and on top of that—’
He knocked on the bedroom door.
Mrs. Young asked tentatively, "Who is it?"
Mr. Young didn’t say anything, just kept knocking on the door.
The person inside didn’t open it.
He turned and knocked on Carol Young’s door. Carol, still groggy, stood in the doorway. "Dad, what’s wrong?"
"Carol, you go knock on the door."
She nodded.
She knocked on the door. "Mom, open up."
Mrs. Young asked tentatively, "Is your dad out there?"
Mr. Young shook his head at Carol, so she replied, "No."
"I was just worried your dad might get the wrong idea." As she spoke, the door clicked open, and Mr. Young shoved it wide.
A slap landed across Mrs. Young’s face. His hand trembled uncontrollably. "I never, ever thought you could be so shameless! You gave the money from Xiaochang’s death to a beast like him!"
Mrs. Young retorted, "How am I shameless? This is an investment."
Mr. Young’s face was ashen. He looked at Marlon Marshall and pointed at him. "You, get out!"
The calmness on Marlon Marshall’s face showed no trace of the guilt Mr. Young expected from someone caught red-handed; it was as if this was all perfectly natural.
It made him feel like the world had been turned upside down.
’His own wife was "investing" so much money in their daughter’s boyfriend... could his own daughter really not know?’
He turned to look at Carol Young. "When did you find out?"
Carol Young answered honestly, "A while ago."
"So was the money really invested?"
Carol Young shook her head. "I’ve never seen any of these ’investments’."
Mr. Young could hardly believe it. "Carol, how could you be so foolish? Getting involved with a person like him!"
Carol Young lowered her head and said nothing.
Mr. Young swayed, took two steps back, and clutched his chest. "A di—vorce!"
Mrs. Young, feeling wronged herself, spat out a string of angry words. "Fine, a divorce it is! I can’t go on living this life anyway! I’ve just been forcing myself to get by!"
Her words were undoubtedly salt in the wound for the already devastated Mr. Young.
He clutched his chest, his mouth open, unable to speak.
Seeing his state, Marlon Marshall offered a "helpful" reminder. "Is he about to die?"
Only then did Mrs. Young look over. The sight made her jump. "Carol, quick! Get your dad’s medicine!"
Carol Young took one look, terrified, and rushed to get the medicine.
But Mr. Young twitched a few times, then fell stiffly to the floor. His eyes were fixed on Mrs. Young before they closed.
Mrs. Young quickly threw on some clothes and called for an ambulance.
But when the paramedics arrived, they pronounced him dead on the scene from a sudden heart attack.
Faced with this sudden turn of events, Mrs. Young, who had just been spitting cold, harsh words, was dumbfounded.
"He was fine just a moment ago... How could—suddenly—a living person just be... gone?"
Carol Young threw herself onto Mr. Young’s body. "Dad! Wake up!"
But there was no response.
In just a few short minutes, he had been angered to death in his own home.
Carol Young collapsed to the floor. To be honest, her father had loved her far more than her mother did since she was a child, but after she grew up, they hadn’t been as close.
Some days, they would be home together all day without exchanging more than a few words.
But in her heart, she loved him.
She had used a different SIM card to text her father and get her mother caught. The first reason was to get him to pull her mother back from the brink; the second was so that Marlon Marshall would be hers alone.
If she had known this would happen, she would have never sent him that text in the first place.
That way, he wouldn’t have died.
But it was too late for regrets now. The man was dead. Nothing she could do would change that.
Mrs. Young was still trembling all over. The husband she had lived with for over twenty years, the man for whom she had borne two daughters... She had just been talking tough, never imagining he would actually die. Her mind suddenly couldn’t process it.
The neighbors had already been pointing fingers and whispering about them, and the rumors spread like wildfire in an instant.
Mr. Young’s sudden death was confirmed to have been triggered by severe emotional distress.
The swirling rumors felt like daggers in Mrs. Young’s back.
They didn’t even wait the customary three days before taking the body to the crematorium.
He was buried in the plot the couple had bought for themselves long ago.
Mrs. Young squatted there, her eyes vacant.
"The day I join you down there, Young, I’ll atone for my sins. I’ll do anything you ask."
Carol Young stood by the grave, silent.
Then she turned and went back home.
Sitting on her bed, her craving suddenly hit.
Trembling uncontrollably, she hastily took out the last of her powder and used it.
Only after she was done did she let out a breath.
When her hand touched her own face, Carol Young flinched. She scrambled to grab a mirror.
The skin in the mirror, once fair, soft, and full, could now only be described as sallow and gaunt, completely devoid of its former radiance.
She stood up and looked around the house, only then realizing that Marlon Marshall was long gone.
Her father had died because of him, yet he had left without a second thought.
Carol Young felt a weight settle on her chest.
She didn’t know who to talk to.
Carol Young picked up her phone and called Marlon Marshall. Someone answered quickly.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"My dad’s dead. Aren’t you even going to pay your respects?"
"If I go, what if he gets angered to death again in the underworld?"
Carol Young was at a loss for words. Then she asked, "Are you still going to see my mom?"
Marlon Marshall answered almost without thinking. "I’m not that heartless. After all this, why would I keep seeing her? Besides, your mom’s in her forties. It’s not even fun sleeping with her anymore—she’s all loose, not tight at all. Not like you. I’m done with her."
Even though she heard him say it with her own ears, Carol Young didn’t feel happy at all.
"Marlon Marshall, let’s get married."
"Isn’t this fine? We’re together when we want to be, and if we don’t, we break up. Marriage is like a prison."
His excuses didn’t fool her.
"You still want to get back together with Jean Grant, don’t you? It’s just because she has money and I don’t, right?"
"Only if I get back with her will you have money to spend. If I can’t, then I’ll have no money, and you’ll have no money. How are we supposed to live then?"
Carol Young’s hand could barely hold her phone. "We can support ourselves."
"Support ourselves? Are you kidding me? A few thousand a month isn’t even enough for a few hits of your powder!"
"We can quit. That would work, right?"
Marlon Marshall thought she was completely delusional.
Carol Young could tell what he was thinking. "You’re never going to marry me, are you?"
Marlon Marshall’s voice turned cold. "Honestly, I really don’t like talking about ’marriage’. If you keep this up, we might as well just part ways amicably. If you can’t handle the game, don’t play with me."
Carol Young wanted to be ruthless and say, ’Fine, then I won’t play,’ but she couldn’t bear to. After thinking it over and over, she could only say, "I won’t bring it up again."
When a woman devotes herself heart and soul to a man, it’s because she wants to marry him, to be with him for a lifetime. But if the man keeps delaying his commitment, then in the end, all the excuses can be boiled down to two words: doesn’t love.
