Chapter 155: Someone Had To Do Something

Cecilia

"That's not—" I stopped, because wasn't it?

"I was trying to protect you," I said, hating how weak it sounded even as the words left my mouth. "Arthur, I'd already made you turn in your father. I couldn't—I didn't want to make you choose between your mother and me too."

"So you chose for me." His voice went hard, cold in a way I'd never heard directed at me before. "You decided, all on your own, that I couldn't handle the truth. That I needed to be protected from my own family's crimes like I was some kind of child who couldn't deal with reality."

"That's not fair," I said, feeling heat flood my face. "Your mother tried to have me assaulted, Arthur. She manipulated my mother into drugging me, into setting me up to be—"

My voice cracked, and I had to stop, had to take a breath before I could continue. "And you were already dealing with so much. Your father in prison, the company in crisis, me nearly dying—I didn't want to add to that burden."

"It wasn't your decision to make." Arthur's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "My family, my responsibility. Not yours. And instead of trusting me to handle it, you went behind my back, kept secrets, made choices that affected both of us without bothering to include me in the conversation."

The accusation stung, sharp and unexpected, because he wasn't wrong. I had made those choices alone. Had decided what he could and couldn't know, what he should and shouldn't have to deal with.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "You're right. I should have told you about confronting your mother. I should have trusted you to handle it."

Arthur let out a bitter laugh. "Should have. Past tense. Because you didn't, did you? You made the same choice you always make—to handle everything yourself, to shoulder all the weight alone, to shut me out when things get difficult."

"That's not true," I protested, but even as I said it I could hear the lie in my own voice.

"Isn't it?" Arthur moved closer, his eyes boring into mine. "When you found out about the Grey family, when you decided to go to that manor to save Daniel—would you stay if I said I didn't want you to go?"

"Someone had to do something!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Daniel was going to be tortured, Arthur. Auctioned off to psychopaths who wanted to cut pieces off him for entertainment. I couldn't just sit there and wait for you while he suffered."

"So you risked your life instead." Arthur's voice dropped back to that dangerous quiet. "You walked into a trafficking ring with nothing but a fake identity and Harold for backup."

"But I did make it out, because you showed up." I said, hearing the defensiveness in my own voice. "We saved Daniel, we got the evidence, we brought down the Grey family. It worked."

"It worked." Arthur repeated the words like they tasted bitter. "You almost died, Ceci. You were in a car accident, chased by armed men, nearly recaptured by the same family that had already tried to kill you once. But it worked, so I guess that makes it okay."

"That's not what I meant—"

"Then what did you mean?" He was close enough now that I could see the exhaustion written across his features, could see the fear that had been hiding underneath all that anger.

"Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're saying the ends justify the means. That as long as you get the result you want, it doesn't matter how much danger you put yourself in, how many risks you take."

"I'm saying someone had to act," I shot back, feeling my own anger rising to match his. "Someone had to be willing to do what was necessary, even if it was dangerous. Even if it scared the people who loved me."

"And that someone always has to be you." Arthur's voice went flat again, emotionless. "No matter what I say, no matter how much I beg you to be careful, to let me help, to trust that I can protect you—you're always going to charge headfirst into danger because you've decided it's your responsibility to save everyone."

The words hit like a slap, sharp and stinging, because they were true. Every word of it was true, and we both knew it.

"I can't just stand by and do nothing," I said, my voice breaking. "Arthur, I can't watch people suffer when I have the power to help them. I can't—"

"I know." The anger drained out of his voice, leaving nothing but exhaustion and something that sounded like resignation. "I know you can't. And that's—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "That's one of the things I love most about you. Your compassion, your courage, your absolute refusal to accept injustice."

He moved to the window again, his back to me, his shoulders tight with tension. "But it's also the thing that's going to destroy me. Because every time you throw yourself into danger, every time you take these insane risks—I die a little. I spend every second terrified that this time, this time you won't make it back. That I'll lose you to your own heroism."

The raw honesty in his voice made my chest ache. I crossed the cabin to stand behind him, my hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "You won't lose me."

"You can't promise that." He turned to face me. "Ceci, you can't promise me that. Not when you keep putting yourself in situations where death is a very real possibility."

"Then what do you want me to do?" I asked, hearing the desperation in my own voice. "Stop caring about other people? Stop trying to help when I see injustice? Become someone who can just turn away and pretend the suffering doesn't exist?"

"I want you to trust me." His hands came up to frame my face, gentle despite the emotion making them shake. "I want you to include me in your decisions, let me help carry the weight."

The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over, hot tracks down my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Arthur. You're right—I should have told you about my mother, should have let you help with the Grey family, should have trusted you enough to include you instead of trying to protect you."

"I don't need protection." His thumbs brushed away my tears. "I need honesty. I need you to trust that I'm strong enough to handle the truth, whatever it is. That I won't break just because the truth is ugly or complicated or involves my own family's crimes."

"I know." I pressed my forehead against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. "I know you're strong enough. I just—I love you so much, and the thought of causing you more pain, of making you choose between your family and me again—"

"You didn't make me choose." His arms came around me, holding me tight. "My father made that choice when he murdered your father. My mother made that choice when she tried to have you assaulted. I chose you, Ceci. I will always choose you. But I need you to choose me too—choose to trust me, to include me."