Standing on the doorstep was Margaret. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes rimmed red, as though she hadn't slept. She was about to knock when Alex opened the door, and her gaze snapped to his. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
"Margaret?" Alex's tone was a mix of confusion and pity. "What are you doing here?"
Margaret's lips trembled as she forced out a bitter laugh. "What else would I be here for, Alex? I'm here to give you what you want."
His brows knitted together in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked looking at her with a frown.
Margaret's voice cracked as she gestured at herself. "I'm here to beg, Alex. Isn't that what you wanted? To see me humiliated, groveling, begging for mercy! Isn't that why you had my son locked up?"
