Chapter 544
Chapter 544
This sentence was like a needle, precisely piercing the festering wound Cecilia had been barely holding together.
"I don't know!" Cecilia broke down, clutching her head, her voice filled with endless pain and confusion. "I can't forget everything she did to me! But she... she's my mom... How could I... how could I just watch her die... She told me she lived on hatred, that I shouldn't believe the stories she told me. I thought she was lying, but deep down I knew those memories were all true..."
Harold reached out and placed his hand on her trembling back.
"Let's go."
"Where?" Cecilia looked up, bewildered.
"Back."
Harold's tone was calm, yet carried a strange comforting power.
"I'm not telling you to go beg for forgiveness."
"I'll go with you to see what's become of the person who hurt you."
When they stepped back into the hospital's cold corridor, the glaring red light above the ICU had just gone out.
The door opened.
The doctor removed his mask, looking exhausted.
His gaze swept over Trent, Cecilia, and Harold.
"I'm sorry."
"We did everything we could."
"Family members can go in to say goodbye."
Trent's body didn't waver at all, as if the sentence had pronounced the death of some insignificant stranger.
But Cecilia felt all the blood in her body rush to her head in that instant, then drain away completely the next second, leaving her hands and feet ice cold.
Harold steadied her swaying body.
She pushed his hand away and walked toward that cold door, step by step.
Inside the room, all the machines had stopped working, leaving only the monotonous, long tone that signaled the end of life.
Teresa on the bed—Teresa who had once represented dominance, control, and endless pressure in her life—now lay there, emaciated beyond recognition, her face no longer showing any of its usual arrogance.
Cecilia stood by the bed, just watching, saying nothing.
"Cecilia..."
Teresa on the bed suddenly moved her eyelids, struggling to open them a crack. Her cloudy gaze searched for a long time before focusing on Cecilia's face.
Her voice was barely a whisper, squeezed out from her throat with a wheezing sound.
Her bony hand emerged from under the blanket, clutching a small brass-colored key in her palm.
"This is... the gratitude gift I prepared for your wedding... From now on... no one will control you anymore, you must... you must take care of yourself..."
The key was pressed into Cecilia's palm, carrying Teresa's last bit of warmth.
The moment the words fell, that hand lost all its strength and dropped heavily.
The flat line on the screen was blindingly bright and alarming.
Cecilia clutched the key, its metal edges digging painfully into her palm.
She didn't cry, just turned and walked out of the room.
Trent was already impatient. Seeing her come out, he immediately instructed his assistant, "Contact a cemetery. Remember, one on the west side of the city will do. No need to put her in the Green family plot—she doesn't deserve it."
A young woman in a champagne-colored dress walked in and affectionately took his arm, her cloying voice following . "Trent, don't be angry. Teresa... she was tired her whole life, she deserves to rest."
Cecilia's steps stopped.
She slowly turned around, looking at that picture of loving harmony, at the woman's slightly swollen belly, and suddenly laughed.
Her laughter was soft, but it made everyone present shiver.
"Trent, you've really redefined shamelessness for me."
With that, she left without another glance at the couple.
The funeral was simple.
Not a single person from the Green family came.
Cecilia used the last bit of money in her account to choose a quiet cemetery plot for her mother.
She drove back to the Green Manor, the cage she had hated for over twenty years.
The house was empty.
Naturally—Trent was busy taking care of his new lover and unborn child.
She walked upstairs from memory and pushed open her mother's bedroom door.
Inside, the scent of her mother's usual perfume still lingered in the air. Everything was exactly as it had been when she left.
Cecilia's gaze swept across the room and finally settled on an inconspicuous low cabinet in the corner.
The key slid into the lock and turned.
The cabinet door opened with a click, and Cecilia froze in place.
Inside wasn't the gold and jewelry she'd imagined, but neatly arranged gift boxes.
She picked up the top one and opened it.
Inside was a set of jewelry, its brilliance almost painful to look at.
Underneath was a card in her mother's bold, flowing handwriting: [Happy 20th birthday to our Cecilia, may you always shine bright.]
Her hands began to tremble as she opened the second box.
It was that limited-edition luxury bag she'd mentioned once, long sold out. The card read: [Twenty-one, be even more proud.]
She continued.
A property deed for prime real estate in the city center.
Stock transfer documents for the Green Group.
For every birthday, every award since childhood—her mother had saved up, in ways she never knew, the confidence and entire future for her!
At the very bottom was a deep blue velvet box.
Cecilia opened it.
Inside wasn't some priceless treasure, just a yellowed old photograph.
In the photo, her young mother held her as an infant, wearing a gentle, contented smile Cecilia had never seen before.
On the back of the photo, a line of elegant handwriting.
[My Cecilia, you must be happy.]
The last bit of strength holding up her body was drained away.
Cecilia's legs gave out, and she slid down the wall to sit on the cold floor.
She clutched those boxes tightly, as if holding the world's greatest treasure, burying her face deep into them.
Finally, a broken, fragmented sob escaped her throat.
She curled up, her whole body shaking violently.
So this was it.
So the control and shackles she'd hated her whole life, desperately tried to escape—this was the deep love she'd never understood, never given a chance to understand.
How ridiculous.
She would never have another chance to understand.
After who knows how long, the crying stopped.
Cecilia lifted her head, the dried tear tracks on her face cold and biting.
Supporting herself against the wall, she stood up bit by bit, and placed those documents and boxes back in the cabinet, one by one, with utmost care.
Her movements were methodical, with a heart-wrenching calm.
...
The Green Group Building, top floor.
In the conference room, a group of veteran shareholders were arguing furiously, red-faced, about to flip the table.
The heavy wooden door was kicked open from outside with tremendous force, slamming against the wall with a crash that instantly silenced the entire space.
The room's clamor stopped abruptly.
Everyone's eyes locked onto the doorway in unison.
Cecilia stood there in a black dress, her high heels striking the marble floor with sharp clicks, each one landing on everyone's hearts.
"What are you doing here? Is this a place for you? Get out!"
Trent at the head of the table shot to his feet, slamming the table.