Chapter 141

Chapter 141
NAYA'S POV

By the time I laid Elijah back down and pulled the blanket gently over him, his little fists were curled tight near his face, his lashes fanned over his cheeks, breathing soft and even. The kind of peace I wished I could bottle and keep close whenever the world outside pressed too hard. I tidied the small mess he’d made after feeding, smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and lingered for a moment, just watching. But the weight in my chest wouldn’t let me rest long. I was exhausted, yet restless all the same.

Dragging my feet down the hall, I finally pushed open the door to my room, already craving the silence of my bed—only to freeze.

Arthur was there.

Not just waiting for me, but sitting on the edge of the mattress with a pile of papers spread across the sheets. My breath caught. The very documents I had hidden inside my bag were in his hands, his sharp eyes scanning line after line as if the ink itself had betrayed him. My stomach dropped.

For a second, I just stood there, clutching the doorknob. My lips parted, instinctively searching for words, but nothing came. I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting the faint copper of guilt.

His head turned then, and his gaze found me. Puzzlement colored his face, but beneath it was something harder, something I’d seen before when he was turning things over in his mind, piecing a puzzle together.

“Why is this here?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words dissolved on my tongue. How could I explain it in a way that wouldn’t sound like betrayal? My throat tightened as I whispered, “Arthur…” but before I could string the thought together, he looked back down at the documents, his fingers brushing the edges as if he was trying to reassure himself they were real.

His voice came again, firmer this time, though still carrying that thread of disbelief. “Why do you have the other parts of the estate documents that were locked up in the drawer in my study?”

There it was—the question I had dreaded since the moment I slipped those papers into my bag.

My heart beat painfully as I forced my legs to carry me closer. Each step felt like walking across glass. I stood near him, close enough to see the tight line of his jaw, the crease between his brows. Slowly, carefully, I told him the truth.

“I found them with Stella,” I began, my voice softer than I intended. “At the hospital. She had them with her… she admitted she stole them from your study.”

Arthur’s head snapped up at that, his expression sharp, searching my face for any sign of a lie.

“She said she didn’t mean to hand them over to Victor Cain,” I rushed on, needing him to hear it all before his anger made the decision for him. “She… she explained why she did it—why she thought she needed them. But she never intended for him to get his hands on them. She—” I swallowed, realizing how much weight I was putting on these words. “She’s sorry, Arthur. I brought them back because I couldn’t let them stay out there, couldn’t let them fall into the wrong hands. She regrets it, and I believe her.”

For a long moment, silence filled the room. The kind of silence that stretches thin, ready to snap. His eyes lowered again to the papers, and I felt myself brace, unsure whether he’d lash out in anger, or worse, say nothing at all.

Finally, Arthur let out a sigh, slow and deep, his shoulders sagging just a little. He closed the folder of documents and set it aside, his hand lingering on the top page before pulling back. When his eyes lifted to mine again, I saw the weight in them, but I also saw the flicker of understanding.

He nodded once. It wasn’t forgiveness exactly, not yet—but it was enough. Enough to say he heard me, that he was choosing to believe me, maybe even choosing to believe Stella through me.

The knot in my chest loosened, though guilt still lingered.

I exhaled shakily and sat beside him, reaching out without thinking, my fingers brushing his. “I couldn’t keep it from you forever. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His jaw shifted as though he wanted to respond, but instead, he leaned back slightly, another sigh escaping him. The tension in the air didn’t vanish, but for the first time in days, I felt it begin to bend instead of break.

I reached for his arm, the weight of everything still pressing on me. My fingers curled gently over his sleeve as I whispered, “I’m sorry, Arthur… truly. And please—please forgive Stella. She acted out of desperation. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She thought she was protecting herself, maybe even helping in some twisted way. She regrets it now, I know she does.”

Arthur’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, heavy with thought, before he gave a slow, almost weary nod. “I forgive her,” he said. “After hearing your explanation… it makes sense. I should’ve known Victor would try to mess with her head sooner or later. She’s vulnerable at the moment, easily swayed, and he knows exactly how to exploit that.”

The understanding in his voice softened something inside me, loosening the knot that had been lodged in my chest since I found those documents in Stella’s hands. Before I could say anything more, Arthur pulled me into his arms. The firmness of his embrace caught me off guard, his chin resting against my hair as he breathed out, “I’m sorry too—for doubting you, even for a moment.”

I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar warmth of him. “It’s fine,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “I understand.”

He tilted my chin up then, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was gentle but full of meaning. I smiled against him when we parted, and for a brief, fleeting second, everything between us felt steady again. But then his voice dropped lower, almost too casual.

“I have a meeting with Victor tonight.”

The words made my smile fade. I searched his face quickly. “This late?”

He nodded once, certain.

My chest tightened as I tried to hold down the rising wave of unease. “Arthur, are you sure about this? It doesn’t feel safe…”

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, steady as ever. “Everything will be fine. I have it all figured out. You have to trust me.”

And I did trust him, but that didn’t silence the quiet panic building inside me. Still, I gave him a small nod, because I knew he needed my faith more than my fears.

“Go to bed,” he added softly. “Don’t wait up for me.”

I wanted to protest, to argue that I couldn’t possibly sleep knowing he was walking into danger, but I bit it back. I only nodded again.

He kissed me once more, briefly this time, before pulling away. He picked up the estate documents from the bed, his eyes skimming them with sharp focus. Then he pulled his phone out, fingers flying across the screen as if sending off a message or recording something important. I stood there watching him, arms wrapped around myself, a strange chill creeping into my bones.

When he finally slipped the phone back into his pocket, he glanced at me one last time, gave me that small, reassuring smile that always managed to undo me, and then stepped out of the room with the documents in hand.

The door clicked softly behind him, and I was left staring at the empty space he’d just filled, my heart drumming a nervous rhythm in the silence.