When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2192

Yannick's lips curved into a smile. "No chance. Let me hold you a while longer."

He wanted every passerby to see that the woman in his arms belonged to him.

Nicholas followed a few paces behind, watching the sudden, showy affection that had replaced their earlier courtesy.

In that moment, he knew he had lost.

First it had been Cecilia. Now it was Jocelyn.

Nicholas' dark eyes frosted over. Why do they all drift away in the end?

He stepped outside, climbed into his car, and closed the door with quiet finality.

He slumped against the leather backrest, shoulders caving in as though the weight of the week had settled there. Dark half-moons clung beneath his eyes, and every slow breath whispered of exhaustion he no longer tried to hide.

After what felt like an endless silence, he pushed himself upright, grabbed the keys, and let the engine carry him through sleeping streets toward Rainsworth Manor, headlights slicing the mist while unresolved thoughts rattled louder than the tires.

The old estate greeted him with a chorus—small feet racing over marble, shrill laughter ricocheting off chandeliers, the kind of bright commotion only children create, filling each corridor with a warmth the centuries-old walls had nearly forgotten.

Nicholas had scarcely crossed the threshold when a blind-folded child burst from behind a velvet drape, arms flailing, and collided with his legs.

"Ha! I got you!" Elliot whipped off the blindfold, triumph blazing in his cheeks—until he realized the tall figure he had snared was not another playmate but his uncle.

The boy's grin froze, like paint left to dry too soon.

Before Elliot could step back, Nicholas scooped him up—effortless, almost gentle, the way one might lift a startled bird.

"So, hide-and-seek, hm? Is it fun?" His question floated out, easy and warm, yet it hummed with something unreadable beneath the politeness.

To Elliot, the gentle tone sounded terrifying. A shiver chased down the back of his neck.

He could not explain it. All he knew was that Nicholas was strange.

"Uncle Nicholas, could you set me down? I want to play with them." He pointed at his friends.

Nicholas paused when he heard the boy call him "Uncle". He then lowered the boy to the floor. "Run along. Play hard. Chances like today may not come again," he added, letting the words slide out too softly to be casual.

The final sentence landed like a secret folded into an ordinary envelope.

A chill rattled Elliot's small shoulders.

Yet children are forgetful. He quickly forgot about what he heard and never thought to mention the moment to anyone.

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