When Her Death Couldn't Break Him novel Chapter 11

Cecilia felt a warm sensation in her right ear, as if fresh blood was trickling out. She stood frozen, unable to move. Paula looked at her daughter, so feeble and incapable, and felt a profound sadness—not for Cecilia, but for herself. She picked up the documents from the coffee table and handed them over to Cecilia. “Take a good look,” she said. “This is the choice I’ve made for you.” Cecilia took the documents and read the bold title: Prenuptial Agreement. She opened it and skimmed the contents: Ms. Cecilia Smith shall willingly marry Mr. Randy Larke, promising to care for him until old age, never to leave his side. Mr. Randy will ensure the well-being of Ms. Cecilia Smith’s family by providing three hundred million in funds to the Smith family… Randy Larke was a seventy-eight-year-old seasoned entrepreneur from Tudela. A string in Cecilia’s mind felt as if it were wound too tightly, ready to snap. Paula continued, “Mr. Larke has stated that he doesn’t mind this being your second marriage. As long as you marry him, he will help the Smith family rise again.” Paula’s hopeful eyes bore into Cecilia as she stepped forward, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t let me and your little brother down, would you?” Cecilia’s complexion grew increasingly pale. She clenched the agreement in her hand. “Nathaniel and I aren’t fully divorced yet,” she replied. Paula waved off the concern. “Mr. Larke suggested that you could have the wedding ceremony first and register it afterward,” she said. “Besides, Nathaniel doesn’t love you. I respect your decision to divorce him.” Realizing that she couldn’t salvage Cecilia’s marriage to Nathaniel, Paula had decided to heed her son’s advice—while her daughter was still young, she would maximize her worth. Cecilia felt as though her throat was clogged with cotton. “May I ask you something?” she paused before continuing, “Am I really your biological daughter?” Paula’s expression stiffened. The facade of her pleasant demeanor vanished as she began to chide Cecilia. “Had it not been for giving birth to you, do you think my figure would have changed? That I would have fallen from my pedestal as a world-renowned dancer? You truly disappoint me!” Growing up, Cecilia could never understand why other mothers loved their children unconditionally, without any resentment or regret. Yet, her own mother wouldn’t spare her a shred of love. Even now, she didn’t understand. But she had come to accept one thing—she no longer yearned for others to love her. She carefully placed the contract aside. “I can’t agree to this,” she said. Paula hadn’t expected her to outright refuse and was instantly infuriated. “How dare you reject me? Your life—it was I who gave it to you! Do whatever I tell you to do!” Cecilia looked at her directly. “So, if I give my life back to you, does that mean I don’t owe you anything anymore?” Paula was taken aback. “What did you say?” Cecilia’s pale lips parted slightly. “If I were to return my life to you, would you cease to be my mother? Would I no longer owe you the debt of giving birth to me?” Paula couldn’t believe her ears and scoffed coldly. “Fine. As long as you return that life to me, I won’t force you! But do you dare?” Cecilia seemed to have made up her mind. “Give me one month,” she requested. Paula felt as if she had lost her mind. She pushed the agreement back toward Cecilia. “If you’re too scared to die, then sign your name.” After delivering these words, she walked out in her high heels. Magnus was waiting at the door, having overheard the conversation. “Mom, she’s not going to contemplate taking her own life, is she?” he asked. Paula’s expression remained indifferent. “If she dares to die, I’ll give her credit for that! After all, she was raised by a nanny, not me. We’ve never been close. I’ve never really considered her my daughter.” They hadn’t gone far, and Cecilia heard every word clearly. She rubbed her aching ears, sometimes wishing she could be deaf. Alone in the room, she felt as though her life had been a complete failure—as if she had never truly lived for herself. Feeling suffocated, Cecilia yearned to find an outlet for her emotions. That evening, she made her way to a bar. Seated in a corner, she nursed her drink, her gaze lost in the crowd engrossed in song and dance. A man with strikingly attractive eyes and handsome features noticed her sitting alone and approached. “Are you Cecilia?” Cecilia looked at him, not recognizing him. Compelled by some unseen force, she asked, “Do you know what it takes to be happy?” The man was puzzled. “What are you saying?” Cecilia took another sip of her drink. “The doctor told me I was sick and needed to cheer up, but… I just can’t seem to find happiness.” Hearing this, the man—Calvin Reese—felt a pang of bitterness. Does she not remember me? Also, what sort of illness is she suffering from that she needs cheering up? “Miss, if you’re seeking joy, this isn’t the place you should be,” he advised. “Let me take you home.” Cecilia smiled at him. “You’re a good person.” Calvin watched her bitter smile, his emotions tangled. What has she been through these past few years? Why does she look so… sad? On the other side of the bar, Nathaniel was also present. Ever since he had filed for divorce from Cecilia, he had been letting loose every night, avoiding his usual routines. It had been a while since he returned to Daltonia Villa. As the night grew late and everyone was preparing to leave, Stella noticed a familiar figure in the corner. “Isn’t that Ms. Smith?” she exclaimed. Nathaniel followed her gaze and saw a man standing in front of Cecilia, engaged in conversation. His expression turned grim. She’s drowning her sorrows in a bar and picking up men? I overestimated her. So, she’s just like that after all. Who was it that once declared they would only ever love me in this lifetime? “Do you want to confront her?” Stella asked. “No need,” Nathaniel replied coldly before quickly walking away. Cecilia declined Calvin’s offer to escort her home. “I can manage on my own,” she said. “No need to trouble yourself.” Feeling uneasy, Calvin watched as she walked away, keeping a safe distance behind her. Nathaniel sat alone in his car, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, still feeling frustrated. Halfway through the journey home, he asked the driver to turn back. As fate would have it, he crossed paths with Cecilia again. Nathaniel instructed the driver to stop the car and swiftly got out, heading toward her. “Cecilia.” The familiar voice sobered her up almost instantly. She looked up to see Nathaniel approaching, feeling as though she were in a dream. “Natha—” “Mr. Rainsworth,” she corrected herself. Nathaniel noticed, to his surprise, that Cecilia had put on light makeup that day. After they got married, she had never worn makeup. He had forgotten that he once told her he didn’t like women who wore makeup. “Do you know what you look like right now?” Nathaniel asked, his thin lips barely parting. Cecilia stared at him, seemingly lost in thought. “You look like a ghost,” he said bluntly. “Who would even like a woman like you?” Cecilia snapped back to reality, her voice hoarse. “I know no one likes me. I’m not expecting anyone to…” A heavy feeling settled in Nathaniel’s chest. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way,” Cecilia said before she continued to walk away. Nathaniel wanted to ask her about the man she had been with, but the words stuck in his throat. After all, we’re about to get divorced—there’s no need. With that, Cecilia continued on her way home, alone, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her.