When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2179

A moment earlier, Miranda might have resisted. Yet when even her father-in-law demanded contrition, pride bowed beneath sheer necessity.

She inhaled, spine stiff. "Nathaniel, I'm sorry. This mess is all my fault. I was just furious when I saw that assistant bully my child. I wasn't targeting Cecilia personally."

With practiced ease, she tried to rinse her hands of blame, painting herself the aggrieved mother.

Nathaniel folded his arms, unmoved. "After all this trouble, you think one simple apology wipes the slate?"

The day had cost him hours of work, gallons of patience, and an already thin trust.

Miranda had assumed a simple cease-fire would leave everyone smiling. She had not expected Nathaniel's refusal to lower his sword.

Now she felt the sting of consequences—a stone she herself had hurled, swinging back to break her own ankle.

"Then what do you want?" she shot back, more wounded than penitent. "My son was mistreated, and yet, I've apologized. Isn't that enough? Why must you push me to my limit?"

Nathaniel's gaze sliced through her theatrics. "Our villa's security cameras tell a different story, though. Felix was the one who bullied and struck the other children. Charlotte merely intervened, but you framed her. Spare us the self-pity."

Cornered by undeniable footage, Miranda's retorts withered, leaving only a frustrated glare.

Discontent pooled in her eyes, heavy and dark as storm clouds that refused to break.

Robert stepped forward, smiling with forced warmth. "Nathaniel, a mother's worry can cloud judgment. Let's each give a little, call it a misunderstanding, and move past this, yes?"

"That's right. Let's not drag it," Adrian chimed in hastily.

Clearly, neither man wished to stand on the wrong side of Nathaniel's temper.

Nathaniel continued to stare at Miranda. "I want you to write an apology letter and a letter of guarantee."

"What?" Miranda's voice cracked. Disbelief flooded her features as though the hallway lights had suddenly gone blindingly white.

Nathaniel's voice slipped between the quiet hum of the interrogation room, his thin lips parting with deliberate calm. "Do you not want to? Then perhaps you'd prefer a chat with my attorney."

Miranda swallowed the last of her pride and gave a stiff nod.

"Fine. I'll write it."

Until that moment, she had lived nearly her whole life without ever drafting any sort of formal pledge, let alone a humiliating letter of guarantee.

"What exactly am I supposed to write in the letter of guarantee?" she muttered, fingertips already trembling at the thought of ink on paper.

Nathaniel did not so much as blink. "Write that you framed someone today, and promise—on record—that it will never happen again."

Just you wait, Nathaniel... One day, I'll return every ounce of this humiliation— with interest.

He's a decent child, yet his own mother has spoiled him and led him astray. What a pity.

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