Chapter 129 It's Dangerous to Stay with Him
Her tearful plea shattered in the noisy alley.
Tears fell uncontrollably from her eyes, landing on Stefan's dust-covered face and spreading into small wet patches.
She couldn't let him die.
This thought crazily took over Cecilia's mind, drowning out all fear and reason.
Her revenge plan needed him.
Her future needed him as a solid shield.
No, it was more than that.
Cecilia shook her head hard, trying to shake off that strange, unsettling feeling in her heart.
She just couldn't accept it.
Stefan, who had just been trading words with her, testing her limits, had died in the blink of an eye trying to protect her.
This debt was too heavy.
She couldn't repay it.
Cecilia steadied her breathing, bent down, and with trembling hands grabbed his shoulders, using all her strength to drag him away from the rubble.
But just then.
A muffled groan, suppressing pain, suddenly escaped from Stefan's throat beneath her.
Cecilia's movements stopped abruptly, her hands still on his shoulders, her whole body frozen.
She looked down, meeting a pair of slowly opening eyes.
He was awake?
Stefan's lips moved, "Shake me anymore, and I'll really be killed by you."
Cecilia's brain completely stopped working at that moment.
She stayed bent over, tear stains still on her face, just staring at him without moving.
The lingering smell of gunpowder in the alley, the faint sound of sirens in the distance—all faded away from her.
The whole world was reduced to his helpless words just now, echoing repeatedly in her ears.
"You."
She opened her mouth, her throat dry, unable to utter a single syllable.
"Help me up." Stefan finally caught his breath and, without giving her time to get angry, directly gave the order.
Almost on instinct, Cecilia stiffly extended her arm, helping him up from the cold ground and letting him lean against the bullet-riddled wall behind him.
After he was steady, Cecilia's gaze fell on the wound on his back.
Though his back looked bloody and mangled, the wounds were small and shallow, not very large in area—more like being cut by countless sharp fragments rather than being directly hit by the blast's center.
"Your wound..."
"A few of my ribs are probably broken, and my back is all surface wounds. I won't die."
The heavy emotion that had just risen in Cecilia's heart, suffocating her, was instantly replaced by something more complex and sharper.
She felt relief at surviving the disaster.
But more than that, she felt anger and coldness at being fooled.
"You tricked me?"
Stefan turned his head to look at her. Without his glasses blocking them, the emotions in his eyes were shockingly direct.
"I didn't trick you." He met her accusation calmly. "I really was in pain, and I really did pass out from the shock just now."
Cecilia's expression didn't soften at all, still staring at him intently.
Stefan looked at her like this and fell silent for a moment.
He seemed to be choosing his words, but in the end only added in an almost matter-of-fact tone, without any emotion.
"I just woke up and saw you crying so sadly, so I wanted to lie there a bit longer."
The tightly wound string in Cecilia's mind completely snapped.
What had she done before!
Those words she'd blurted out when she thought it was a life-and-death farewell—tearful, vulnerable words—now replayed in her mind in high definition over and over.
Her face burned hot.
Shame and anger instantly gripped Cecilia's heart, making it hard to breathe.
She had actually cried for him?
She had said so many embarrassing things that made her want to die?
And he, the instigator, the culprit of it all, had actually lain there peacefully after waking up, watching her make a fool of herself!
"Stefan!"
She ground out his name through clenched teeth. "Do you think this is fun? Watching me cry for you, watching me act like an idiot thinking you were dead—does that give you a sense of accomplishment?"
"A little." Stefan actually admitted it directly.
He looked at her face, pale with anger, and those eyes that were especially bright with fury, his colorless lips curving into a very faint arc.
"I thought Ms. Martinez was always unbreakable. Turns out you cry for others too?"
Cecilia laughed coldly, all her churning emotions turning into the sharpest mockery at that moment.
"Mr. Hensley has misunderstood."
She raised her chin, looking directly into his eyes, saying word by word.
"I wasn't crying for you."
"I was crying for myself, for my bad luck—that the partner I just found was so useless, dying so quickly, delaying my revenge plan."
"What?" Stefan raised an eyebrow, seeming very interested in her explanation. "Is that so? Then why were you begging me not to die just now?"
"Of course it was for the money in Mr. Hensley's pocket, and for the Hensley Group behind you."
Cecilia's words came fast and steady, without any hesitation.
"If you died, where would I find another idiot who's so rich and so willing to go against Rufus? I'd have to spend time on that, which is very troublesome. So I cried, I was just crying about my trouble."
"I see." The interest in Stefan's eyes grew stronger.
"Isn't that right?" Cecilia didn't back down. "You put in so much effort to act with me, but got disrupted on the first day of the business trip. And now you got yourself all injured trying to save me, your chess piece. Mr. Hensley, this deal of yours has been a loss from start to finish."
Footsteps at the alley entrance interrupted their standoff.
Seven or eight burly men in black suits with communication earpieces rushed in at high speed.
Their movements carried a deadly air, their gazes sharp—clearly not ordinary bodyguards.
Jacob, leading them, saw Stefan leaning against the wall and immediately stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully.
"Mr. Hensley, you're injured! We're late."
"Minor injury." Stefan waved his hand, cutting off Jacob's next words. "Clean up the scene and get us out of here."
"Yes!"
Jacob responded, then arranged for his men to seal off the alley entrance and check the environment—the whole process smooth and well-coordinated.
Stefan turned to Cecilia, who was still frozen in place.
He raised his hand, as if wanting to do something, but ultimately just left it hanging in mid-air before pulling it back.
"Let's go."
Cecilia was jolted awake by his words.
She glanced at his coat, stained beyond recognition with blood and dust, then at his face, pale from blood loss.
Stefan was contradictory.
He was calculating, yet would make the most impulsive actions that went against his interests.
He was cold and ruthless, yet at times like this, would use an understated remark to disturb all her composure.
Being with him was too dangerous.
Cecilia took a deep breath, suppressing all the churning emotions in her heart, and silently followed behind the group of men in black toward the alley exit.