Chapter 154 Ambiguous Atmosphere
The air froze.
Rufus slowly turned his head, his tongue pressing against his split lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood.
He raised his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth. His bloodshot eyes locked onto Stefan, filled with rage and murderous intent that seemed almost tangible.
"Stefan, you're asking for it."
Rufus squeezed out these words through clenched teeth. Without giving Stefan any time to react, he lunged forward.
Stefan was prepared. He dodged sideways, avoiding Rufus's punch aimed straight at his face, while simultaneously lifting his leg in a sharp knee strike, driving it hard into Rufus's abdomen.
Rufus and Stefan, who had fought for years in the business world, now abandoned all dignity and pretense, tearing into each other in the most primitive and brutal way.
The dull thuds of fists hitting flesh, heavy breathing, mixed with suppressed roars—in this quiet place where the dead rested, it all sounded particularly jarring and absurd.
"Stop it! Both of you, stop!"
Cecilia was shocked by the chaotic scene before her.
She never imagined things would turn into a full-blown brawl. This was a cemetery—even though she'd been forced to come here, it was still the place where Patrick rested!
Cecilia rushed forward, trying to separate Rufus and Stefan as they grappled with each other.
But her strength meant nothing against two enraged adult men. She'd just grabbed Stefan's arm when Rufus's swinging motion knocked her off balance, nearly making her fall.
"Get out of the way!" Rufus roared. His target was only Stefan.
Stefan seized the moment of Rufus's distraction and landed a punch on Rufus's eye socket.
Rufus winced in pain, his grip loosening. Stefan immediately pulled away, not forgetting to pull her to a safer distance.
"Are you okay?" Stefan checked on her first.
"I'm fine, you..."
Before Cecilia could finish, Rufus charged at them again.
The chaotic fight was finally stopped by security guards who rushed over after hearing the commotion.
Rufus and Stefan were finally separated, both injured and looking disheveled.
Rufus had a large bruise around his eye socket, blood trickling from his mouth, his white shirt stained with dust and blood—he looked sinister and frightening.
Stefan wasn't much better off. His handsome face had a scratch, his jaw was bruised, and a button on his suit jacket had been torn off in the struggle.
"Mr. Hensley, are you alright? Where are you hurt?" Cecilia immediately rushed to Stefan's side, supporting him. She pulled tissues from her pocket and carefully dabbed at the wound on his face, her worry completely unconcealed.
Her eyes were only on Stefan.
From start to finish, she hadn't looked at Rufus once.
As if he were just an insignificant stranger, not even worth as much as air.
Rufus stood there, his chest heaving violently.
The pain in his eye socket, the stinging at his mouth—none of it compared to the hollow, icy feeling of having his heart ripped out.
He watched her worry over Stefan, watched her show Stefan that gentle, caring expression, watched her carefully tend to Stefan's wounds.
All of this should have belonged to him, to Rufus.
Once upon a time, when he was sick, Cecilia would take care of him just as attentively.
But what had he done then?
He'd pushed her away in disgust, told her to get lost.
Now, she was giving that unique tenderness to someone else.
A sharp pain called jealousy gnawed at his insides.
"Amelia." Rufus called out hoarsely.
Cecilia's movements paused for a moment, but she still didn't turn around.
She simply supported Stefan and said coldly, "Mr. Chapman, I smashed your jade piece today and dirtied your clothes. You can have your lawyer send me an itemized bill for medical expenses and emotional distress."
She paused, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Also, I'll say it again—go to the hospital and get checked for mental illness. Don't give up on treatment. I think even Mr. Hensley would be happy to cover that expense for you."
With that, Cecilia said nothing more. Supporting Stefan, she turned and walked away.
As Stefan passed by Rufus, he stopped.
Stefan turned his head, looking at Rufus's defeated appearance, his lips curling into a victor's smile full of provocation.
"See that, Rufus?" Stefan lowered his voice, mouthing the words tauntingly. "Forced love never ends well. Who she chose is crystal clear."
Dropping these words, Stefan ignored the ashen-faced Rufus behind him, put his arm around Cecilia, and left the oppressive cemetery without looking back.
On the drive back, the atmosphere in the car was somewhat heavy.
Garth drove in the front seat.
Cecilia sat in the back, looking at Stefan beside her—eyes closed, leaning against the seat back as if resting—wanting to speak but hesitating.
"I'm sorry." Cecilia finally broke the silence. "What happened today—I got you involved."
Stefan slowly opened his eyes.
"It's not your fault. Rufus is the one with problems."
Stefan noticed her slightly clenched fists and added, "You don't need to pay me any medical expenses either. Getting to beat him up in front of you, fair and square—I think it was worth it."
Stefan's words carried a hint of humor, helping Cecilia's tense nerves relax a bit.
She couldn't help stealing a glance at Stefan. The wound at the corner of his mouth was still obvious, and paired with his deadpan expression saying "worth it," there was an odd contrast.
Back at the apartment building, the car came to a smooth stop.
Cecilia looked at the bloody wound still visible on Stefan's face, unable to suppress her guilt and worry.
"Um..." She gathered her courage and spoke up. "Would you like to come up for a bit? Your wound needs treatment. I have a first aid kit at home."
Stefan was somewhat surprised. He turned to look at her, seeing her face full of genuine remorse and concern. The corners of his mouth unconsciously curved upward.
He deliberately teased her, "Sure, thanks for the trouble. Otherwise, going back to the office looking like this, tomorrow's headline would probably be 'Hensley Group CEO Suspected of Domestic Abuse, Stefan Apparently Fears Wife.'"
Cecilia didn't know whether to laugh or cry at Stefan's joke, and the heaviness in her heart lifted considerably.
She nodded and led Stefan upstairs.
The apartment was clean and tidy. Cecilia had him sit on the sofa while she went to find the first aid kit.
"Bear with it, it might hurt a little." Cecilia held a cotton swab dipped in iodine and carefully moved closer to him.
Stefan said nothing, just tilted his head back, obediently letting her work.
The distance between them instantly closed.
Cecilia could clearly see his long lashes, his straight nose, and his eyes that were now staring at her without blinking.
The atmosphere became somewhat delicate.
She felt a bit uncomfortable, lowered her eyes, held her breath, and could only force herself to focus on what she was doing, gently disinfecting the wound at the corner of his mouth.
Stefan suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.
"Did I hurt you?" Cecilia immediately looked up, asking with concern.
She looked up too quickly, and he was leaning slightly forward.
A thud—not loud, but clear enough.
Their foreheads collided solidly.
Cecilia cried out in pain, covering her forehead and pulling back. Stefan also covered his forehead, his expression somewhere between crying and laughing.
Their eyes met, and an indescribable awkwardness and... ambiguity filled the air.
Stefan's wounds from the earlier beating still stung, and now he had a new injury.
But looking at her covering her forehead, eyes watering from pain yet not daring to complain, Stefan couldn't help but let out a low laugh.