CHAPTER 303: SHE’LL NEVER FORGIVE ME.

At the hospital...

Oliver was conscious and was transferred to the ward. He lay propped up in his bed, pale and weak. But a grin surfaced on his face when he saw Anne coming in with Augustine at her side.

Relief washed over him. She was safe and alive.

"Anne..." he called out, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lifted shakily, reaching out.

She hurried to him, clasping his trembling hand. "Don’t speak," she said softly, eyes already misting. "You need to rest. You are still too weak."

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He had so many things to say, so many regrets to voice, but his throat tightened, his words trapped behind the lump swelling there. Still, he forced a smile.

"I’m just glad I was able to protect you," he rasped.

Anne’s face crumpled. "You shouldn’t have done that," she choked out. "You could have died. Do you know how I would have lived with that? I would have blamed myself forever."

Her lips quivered, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks.

"I owed you that," Oliver murmured. "You were away from us because of me. You grew up without your family. What I did was nothing compared to the pain you have lived with."

Anne wiped her cheeks and straightened. "You risked your life to save me. That moment changed everything. Every complaint I ever had about you is gone now. I’m not angry anymore. I’m not disappointed."

Oliver’s eyes lit up, glistening. "You forgive me?" he asked, barely daring to believe it.

Anne nodded, smiling through her tears. "I forgive you," she whispered. "And so does Mom. We have both let it go. All we want now is for you to heal. Just come back to us."

Oliver blinked, confused. Had he heard her right?

"What did you just say?" he asked, his brows furrowing. "Are you sure Margaret forgave me?"

He couldn’t believe it. That woman had once looked him in the eye and told him she’d never forgive him, not even if he confessed every mistake in front of the entire world. Her hatred had been deep, carved into her every word. How could she just let it go?

Anne gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "She doesn’t have any grudge with you. Trust me. And if you need proof, just watch this."

She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. A video of the press conference from earlier began to play. She held it out to him.

Oliver took the phone, his hands trembling slightly as he watched the video. His jaw dropped open as he watched Nathan clearly lay out the truth about Hugo, how he had deceived and destroyed the family. Not once did he mention Oliver’s past mistakes.

All the blame had been placed squarely on Hugo, while Oliver was portrayed as the hero for saving his daughter with his life.

Emotion welled up inside him. His throat tightened. He swallowed hard.

His children no longer held any resentment toward him—the anger, the blame, it was all gone.

"You didn’t have to hide my mistakes," he whispered. "Nathan should have exposed me, too. I don’t deserve this. But I’m... I’m so grateful."

He trailed off, his throat burning.

Anne leaned in closer. "Dad, stop overthinking it. I don’t want us living in the past anymore. That time is behind us. I have my family back. I have a husband who loves me."

She turned to glance up at Augustine, who stood quietly at her side. "And soon...we will welcome our child." Her hand moved gently over her belly.

She looked back at Oliver, her smile radiant.

"My life is finally full, peaceful, happy, and surrounded by love. I don’t want to carry old wounds anymore. I just want to live in this moment."

"Yes, Mr. Granet," Augustine said. "It’s time to let go of the past. Holding onto bitterness won’t bring anything good. It only eats away at what you have now. Focus on the present."

He slipped an arm around Anne’s shoulders. "Anne and I are about to become parents. What we need now is your blessings."

Oliver smiled through misty eyes, wiping at them with the back of his hand. "That party was supposed to be a joyful celebration, but it turned into chaos."

A sigh of regret escaped him. But then he straightened, forcing the disappointment away and flashing a hopeful smile. "It’s not over yet. We can celebrate properly again. When I’m back home, we’ll have a family dinner."

"Of course, we’ll celebrate," Anne said enthusiastically.

Remembering Margaret was still waiting outside, Augustine glanced at her with a knowing look. "We should let your father rest."

Anne caught on immediately. She stood up. "We’ll let you rest now. I’ll come again later."

With one last affectionate look at her father, Anne left the room with Augustine.

Unaware that Margaret had been waiting just outside the door, Oliver let his eyes close, his mind replaying the press conference video. A quiet sense of peace settled over him. His children didn’t hate him any longer. They stood with him. Even Margaret seemed to have no issue with him.

The sound of the door opening made him turn his head slightly, expecting to see a nurse or perhaps a doctor making rounds.

But it was Margaret.

Oliver froze, eyes widening in disbelief.

"Margaret..." he whispered, wondering if he was dreaming.

He never imagined he’d see her here. In the past, he had often heard about Margaret falling ill and being rushed to the hospital, but he had never visited her, not once. He had kept his distance, buried with the fire of resentment and hatred.

Given all that had happened between them, the last thing he expected was for her to come see him now. Yet here she was—graceful, composed, and unshaken.

Her presence carried the same quiet strength she had always had. It felt as if time had stopped, holding her exactly as he remembered.

For a fleeting moment, he was pulled back through time. Back to the days when Margaret had been the pride of the Gilson family—radiant, strong-willed, admired by many. Men used to chase after her, hoping for a chance, while he stood at her side, always wondering if he was enough.

That beauty, that confidence, had sparked insecurity and jealousy in him. Even though he had married her, he had a constant fear that she would leave him someday with another man.

Over time, those feelings had turned corrosive. He had let them fester, and in doing so, he had ruined his marriage. He could have lived peacefully with his wife and children, but his doubts, insecurity, and jealousy had destroyed everything that mattered to him.

Their marriage had fallen apart, and they had ended up resenting and hating each other.

And now, seeing her again, standing there so calm, his heart ached with an unbearable mix of regret and guilt. His chest felt tight, like it might split open from the weight of everything he had done, everything he had lost.

Unable to face her, he turned his head to the side, avoiding her gaze.

"Why are you here?" Oliver asked coldly, doing everything he could to hide the ache beneath his words. "Did you come just to see me like this? Broken?"

Margaret let out a sharp scoff. "You haven’t changed at all, Oliver. You are as arrogant as before. But I’m not here to argue with you or throw blame. I came to thank you for saving my daughter."

"She is my daughter too," Oliver snapped, turning his head to face her.

Margaret’s expression hardened. ’Yes, she is your daughter, the one you abandoned.’ She held back the words that burned on her tongue.

"I would do anything for her," Oliver added fiercely.

"I saw," Margaret replied flatly, her tone emotionless.

In truth, she had been terrified. The image of him stepping in front of Anne, taking the knife, still haunted her. When he collapsed, she had screamed instinctively and had fainted.

And while she hadn’t said it aloud, the fear of losing him had clung to her ever since. But standing there now, she showed none of it. Her face was unreadable, every feeling hidden behind that cold face.

"You are all over social media," she said briskly. "Everyone is praising you. You have become some kind of hero overnight. Nathan and Anne have forgiven you, and suddenly, you are their favorite."

Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the sea of vibrant bouquets lining every corner, gifts from well-wishers, clients, and the public.

"I heard your office is buried in flowers," she added. "Looks like the hospital room is catching up."

She gave a small, hollow smile. "Congratulations. You don’t have to worry about public judgment anymore."

Oliver’s chest tightened at her sarcastic tone. The sting of Margaret’s words cut deeper than that knife. No matter what he did, even risking his own life to save their daughter wasn’t enough to soften her anger. This cold distance was worse than her silence over the years.

’She’ll never forgive me,’ he thought grimly.