Chapter 108 Indescribable Agitation
Rufus remained completely unmoved by her towering rage, not even shifting his posture.
The stares around them grew denser, whispers merging into an embarrassing buzz, but he just leaned back leisurely in his chair, enjoying the sight of her—cornered and desperate, yet still trying to lash out with whatever fight she had left.
"Go back," Rufus finally spoke, calmly announcing the end of this confrontation. "Go back to your father's bedside and think it over."
"You'll come back begging me."
Cecilia's chest heaved violently. She clenched her back teeth so hard that she swallowed down all her rebuttals and curses.
She spun around sharply, refusing to look at him again, and walked out of the lavishly decorated restaurant step by step, using every ounce of strength to keep her back straight.
Behind her, those prying eyes didn't immediately disperse.
At another table not far from Rufus, Stefan Hensley—wearing gold-rimmed glasses and exuding a refined, scholarly air—gently swirled the red wine in his glass with his slender fingers. Stefan had witnessed this whole scene from start to finish, a hint of amused interest playing on his face the entire time.
That smile of Stefan's was completely different from Rufus's coldness—it carried the keen interest of a hunter who'd spotted an intriguing new prey.
"Interesting," Stefan murmured to himself.
His assistant immediately leaned down.
"Look into that woman," Stefan said without lifting his head, his gaze fixed on Rufus's iceberg-like face. "I want everything on her."
The assistant responded respectfully and withdrew. Only then did Stefan set down his wine glass and look out the window.
In the night, Rufus's black sedan was slowly pulling away.
Cecilia practically fled back to the hospital.
Standing at the hospital room door, she took several deep breaths, then rubbed her frozen face hard, forcing it into a passable expression before pushing the door open.
Mabel was dozing in a chair and woke with a start at the sound. Seeing it was her, Mabel's face instantly showed relief.
"Amelia, you're back? Did you eat?"
"Yes." Cecilia walked over and tucked the thin blanket around her.
But Mabel grabbed her hand, studying her face carefully, her worry-filled eyes brimming with concern.
"What's wrong? Did you fight with your friend? You look even worse than when you left."
Cecilia's heart grew uneasy.
She hadn't expected Mabel to see right through her carefully constructed facade.
"No, Mom." Cecilia lowered her head, avoiding Mabel's probing gaze. "He's just really busy with work, we barely talked. I'm just a bit tired."
She didn't dare continue this topic, afraid of saying too much and giving herself away.
"Go lie down on the bed for a while, I'll keep watch here." Cecilia tried to guide Mabel toward rest, supporting her shoulders.
Mabel couldn't resist her, sighing but still worrying: "Amelia, I know you're careful about who you befriend. But that Mr. Chapman—he doesn't seem simple. You... you have to protect yourself, understand?"
A mother's intuition was terrifyingly sharp.
Cecilia's nose stung, tears nearly falling. She nodded hard: "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
As night deepened, the hospital corridor finally quieted down.
Mabel had gone to sleep. Cecilia lay slumped by Robert's bedside, staring motionlessly at the steady rhythm on the heart monitor.
Just then, the person in the bed let out an extremely weak moan.
Cecilia's head shot up, meeting Robert's eyes as they slowly opened—clouded but familiar.
"Dad!"
Overwhelming joy flooded through her entire body, making her instantly forget all her exhaustion and humiliation.
She rushed to the bedside, carefully grasping Robert's withered hand.
"Dad, you're awake! How do you feel? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?"
Robert's lips moved, as if trying to say something, but he couldn't form clear words. He only used all his strength to gently pat the back of her hand.
This tiny gesture seemed to bring infinite strength. Cecilia's tears could no longer be held back, falling in large drops.
As long as he was alive, as long as he still recognized her, that was more important than anything.
Meanwhile, in the CEO's office on the top floor of the Chapman Group, lights blazed bright.
Rufus stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the brilliant lights of the city below. In his hand, he held a single slender strand of hair.
It was from the restaurant—when he'd pretended to take a photo and moved closer to her, he'd discreetly plucked it from her hair.
Louis stood behind him, barely daring to breathe.
He'd seen that photo.
That woman called Amelia had smiled worse than if she were crying. Yet Rufus had stared at that photo for a long time.
"Mr. Chapman—"
"Take this." Rufus turned around, placing the strand of hair into a clear evidence bag and handing it over.
"Compare it with Cecilia's sample in the database." Rufus's order was clear and cold. "Use the fastest channel available. I want the results immediately."
Louis's heart jumped heavily.
Cecilia.
That name hadn't been mentioned by Rufus in a very long time. Louis had thought that after that fire, Cecilia's name would become a permanent taboo.
Louis didn't dare ask more questions. He took the evidence bag and bowed out.
Rufus turned back to face the night view outside the window.
Why?
He was asking himself too.
Why would he develop such an intense, almost obsessive need to investigate Amelia, someone he'd only met a few times?
Was it because of those eyes? Those eyes burning with unyielding fire even in despair, overlapping eerily with Cecilia from a certain moment deep in his memory.
Or was it that inexplicable sense of familiarity about her, that aura that irritated him yet made him want to get closer despite himself?
He didn't believe in coincidences.
There couldn't be a second Cecilia in this world.
Rufus just needed a result to completely snuff out this absurd, ridiculous notion in his mind.
An hour later, there was a knock on Rufus's office door.
Louis entered and placed a sealed document envelope on the desk.
"The results are in."
Rufus sat back in his large leather chair and silently tore open the envelope's seal. He pulled out the thin sheet of paper, his eyes going straight to the conclusion at the bottom.
Black text on white paper, crystal clear.
[After comparison, Sample A (Amelia) and Sample B (Cecilia) show significant differences in mitochondrial DNA sequences, ruling out the possibility of maternal blood relation.]
Amelia was not Cecilia.
Amelia had no connection to Cecilia whatsoever.
Rufus's slender fingers unconsciously tightened, crumpling that thin identification report in his palm.
This expected result should have brought him relief.
But somehow, in that instant, what pierced through his chest wasn't the clarity of doubt removed, but an even deeper sense of irritation and emptiness that he couldn't even put into words.