Try Begging - Chapter 132.2
As she gritted her teeth, Jimmy, who had been almost silent, started to ramble like someone eager to end the call.
[ I’ll organize your belongings and money and send them to you when the time is right. If you need funds, don’t hesitate to contact me. Grace, it pains me, too, that our paths have diverged like this. Still, the thought of you returning only to be exploited again… ]
Upon hearing that returning might make her a target of use again, Grace snapped to attention.
Was this implying they’d use her to capture Winston? But placing her as a spy again was impossible.
…As bait, then?
The thought suddenly struck her that her unborn child could be used as bait in negotiations with Winston, given the child’s royalist lineage.
The child of a royalist.
As this thought process, a suspicion zapped through her mind like lightning.
“How would you use me? Is there… is there a hidden role for me? Something the elders have been planning for a long time…?”
[ No, where did you get that idea? ]
Grace’s intuition screamed at her. This was a lie. There was something more, and Jimmy was hiding it from her.
[ I just don’t want you to suffer like this again. Grace, I’m trying to protect you. ]
That man had said something similar. One man claimed that imprisoning her was his way of protection, while another argued that driving her away was his.
In either case, her will was completely ignored.
[ Don’t forget. I’m not abandoning you. I really miss you. I’ll come to see you when things settle down. Please, go to Joe. I’m begging you. ]
Grace’s intuition whispered once more.
It was all empty promises.
With her mind already crowded with different thoughts, she weakly responded as she pulled the phone away from her ear.
“Alright, I’ll go to Joe.”
It must have sounded like perfect resignation to the person on the other end.
As soon as Grace entered the central station of Winsford, she headed straight to the kiosk.
She picked up a box of crackers, an apple, and two bottles of soda, and she moved towards the bookstand. At the ticket office, they distribute free timetables for trains departing from the central station. However, Grace deliberately chose to buy a guidebook detailing train schedules across the nation.
The kiosk owner glanced at her with curious eyes throughout the transaction, recognizing something unusual about her appearance.
Knowing well what she must look like, Grace avoided his gaze. She continuously dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief so soaked it seemed it might drip. The owner rummaged behind the counter and placed something on top of the guidebook.
“This comes with the purchase of a train timetable.”
It was a neatly packaged handkerchief.
“…Thank you.”
Leaving the kiosk, she joined the end of the long queue to buy train tickets, juggling the paper bag of goods and flipping through the train schedule with one hand.
The 2:15 train would stop at Chesterfield at 4:30, depart at 4:35, and arrive at 8:45.
As she busily calculated her journey, including local train times, that man’s voice haunted her thoughts.
“You need to know the truth. At first, it was amusing to watch you trust and wait for that b*stard, knowing nothing. But now, it pains me too.”
Shut up. I told you to shut up.
By the time she reached the ticket counter, even the new handkerchief was damp. Grace intended to buy a third-class ticket out of habit, but they were sold out due to the Christmas rush.
Only first-class remained.
The high ceilings in the lobby caused the voices and footsteps of the crowd to echo like in a cave as she crossed to the platform. Amidst the bustle of people loading luggage and saying farewells, an attendant approached her as she stared at the train with a look of heading towards a personal hell.
“Madam, where are you headed?”
Perhaps the sight of a pregnant woman with tear-stained eyes and a lost expression evoked pity.
The attendant was overly cheerful, took the crumpled paper bag from her, and guided her to first class. Usually, Grace would not accept help for tasks she could manage on her own. However, in that moment, she was willing to lean on the kindness of a stranger.
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