Chapter 109 No Other Choice
That thin piece of paper was crushed into a wrinkled ball of waste in Rufus's palm. He shot up from his leather chair, the sharp clang of metal cutting through the deathly silence of the office.
He threw the crumpled paper hard into the trash can.
The black sedan sped all the way before finally stopping in front of the hillside villa that was so empty it only had echoes left.
In the huge living room, the chandelier's light poured down coldly, unable to reach into any of the shadowy corners.
Owen heard the noise and came out respectfully to greet him.
"Mr. Chapman, you're back."
Rufus didn't respond. He walked straight to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a glass of strong whiskey, and downed it in one gulp. The burning liquid scorched his throat, but it couldn't drive away that nameless restlessness in his heart.
He turned around and suddenly spoke, breaking the suffocating silence.
"Can there be two people in this world with no blood relation who are exactly the same in their habits and behavior?"
Rufus's question came so abruptly that Owen was slightly stunned.
Owen had been by Rufus's side for many years and knew well the wisdom of being careful with words. He lowered his head and answered with extremely cautious wording: "Mr. Chapman, the world is vast and full of wonders. But my knowledge is limited, and I haven't heard of such cases before. There are many people who look similar, but a person's words and actions are shaped by their life experiences from childhood to adulthood and their character—they should be unique."
Owen's watertight answer was clearly not what Rufus wanted to hear.
Rufus irritably tugged at his tie and poured another glass. The amber liquid swirled in the glass, reflecting his dark and unclear face.
"She's too similar."
Rufus's Adam's apple bobbed, and those words were almost squeezed out through his teeth, carrying confusion and struggle he himself hadn't even noticed.
"That woman named Amelia, sometimes she's really too similar. So similar that it makes me feel like Cecilia is still alive."
When he said that last sentence, his knuckles gripping the glass protruded sharply, betraying the emotions he was desperately suppressing.
Owen sighed heavily in his heart.
Of course Owen knew who Rufus was referring to.
Since Cecilia's death, Rufus had been sunk in a darkness that never saw daylight, even doing self-destructive things.
In Owen's view, Rufus was clearly missing her too much, which was why he was treating Amelia—someone he happened to meet who perhaps resembled Cecilia somewhat—as an emotional anchor.
But Owen didn't dare say it out loud.
It was fine though.
Having something to hold onto was better than wanting to die.
With this thought, Owen chose silence, only lowering his head even more.
Rufus didn't wait for a response, nor did he need one.
He drained the glass again, and the cold glass was heavily placed on the marble countertop with a dull thud.
"I will find out." Rufus's declaration was firm and resolute, carrying unshakeable determination. "Find out what's really going on!"
The next day, morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm spots of light on the hospital's white walls.
The Sylvanor medical team led by Klaus had conducted a full examination and assessment of Robert early in the morning.
At this moment, they were gathered around the bed, explaining the follow-up recovery plan in detail to Cecilia and Mabel through a translator.
"Mr. Martinez's heart muscle damage is recovering better than expected, thanks to yesterday's successful surgery." Klaus pointed at the 3D heart model on the tablet, explaining meticulously. "But the real challenge is just beginning. We've designed a three-month comprehensive recovery therapy for him, including targeted drug intervention, physical rehabilitation training, and psychological counseling."
Mabel was completely confused.
But she could tell that these Sylvanor doctors were very professional, considering every detail carefully. Her anxious heart finally settled down a bit more.
"That's wonderful! Thank you, thank you doctors!" she said gratefully over and over.
However, after the brief moment of gratitude, the most practical question surfaced.
Mabel carefully tugged at Cecilia's sleeve, then looked somewhat awkwardly at the translator.
"May I ask, how much does it cost to hire a team like this?"
The translator had a brief exchange with Klaus in Sylvanor's language, then turned around and answered calmly:
"Dr. Heilmann's team has a public fee schedule. Not counting medication and special equipment usage fees, just the team's professional service fee is four hundred and seventy thousand dollars per day."
Four hundred and seventy thousand dollars?
Per day?
Mabel felt something explode in her head. Her ears seemed filled with noisy sounds. She was completely dazed, standing there frozen, unable to believe her ears.
She thought she had prepared herself mentally, thought it would be an astronomical figure, but she never imagined the number could be this astronomical!
Nearly half a million dollars a day! And over three months, how much would that be? She didn't dare think about it, couldn't even calculate it!
The group of Sylvanor experts seemed used to this kind of reaction. Without lingering, they politely said goodbye and left after giving their instructions.
"Amelia."
Mabel suddenly grabbed Cecilia's arm with such force that Cecilia felt pain. Mabel's lips trembled, and she could barely find her voice.
"This money, it's from that Mr. Chapman again, isn't it?"
Mabel's question already carried undeniable certainty.
Besides Rufus, who else could have such capability and financial resources?
Cecilia lowered her eyes, her throat tight, unable to say a word.
Her silence was the best answer.
Mabel's heart completely sank.
Enormous fear and anxiety instantly seized Mabel. She pulled Cecilia to a corner of the hospital room, lowering her voice, every sentence revealing deep worry.
"Amelia, tell me the truth. What's your relationship with this Mr. Chapman? Why is he helping us so much? Our family has no connection to him at all. Why would he throw money around like this? These rich men all have deep schemes. What does he want from you!"
"Mom, don't overthink it." Cecilia forced herself to try to calm Mabel down. "He, he's really just pursuing me, nothing else."
Even Cecilia herself felt this excuse was weak and powerless.
"Pursuing you?" Mabel's voice suddenly rose, then she forcefully suppressed it. "Who pursues someone like this! This isn't pursuing—this is throwing money at people! Amelia, listen to me, we can't owe him this much! This kind of debt is harder to repay than money! You must be careful, you absolutely cannot let him fool you!"
"I know, Mom." Cecilia nodded hard, wrapping Mabel's cold hands in her own palms. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
Cecilia said it with her mouth, but her heart was a sea of bitterness.
Know what she's doing? In front of someone like Rufus, how could she have any right to talk about knowing what she's doing? She was now a fish on the chopping block, with no choice but to let him do as he pleased.
All afternoon, Cecilia was restless.
That astronomical rehabilitation fee weighed heavily on her heart, making it hard to breathe.
Robert's condition was improving—he could already make a few simple sounds. This should have been happy news, but this joy was washed away by that invisible massive bill.
Near dusk, the hospital room door was pushed open from outside once again.
Cecilia didn't even need to turn around—every cell in her body was already screaming in resistance.
She stiffly turned around.
The hallway light outlined his tall, straight silhouette from behind. Rufus, still in his crisp black suit, walked in slowly.