Chapter 25 Affair of the Heart?
It didn't sound as if the two orderlies meant any harm—more like they simply felt sorry for Cecilia.
She crossed her arms and rubbed her own forearms, a small gesture she couldn't help. Even she had to admit she looked pitiful.
"Madam, could you tell me how to get to Ward A?" Charles's clear, smooth voice cut cleanly through their chatter, stopping it without effort.
The orderlies spoke over one another, eager to give directions, even offering to escort him. Cecilia thought the voice sounded familiar. Against her better judgment, she turned—and saw Charles.
He walked toward her carrying a bouquet. Sunflowers. Her favorite.
Cecilia's brows tightened, disapproval plain in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Charles pulled a wounded expression. "Am I really that unwelcome?"
She opened her mouth to explain, but he slipped an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the room. His voice dropped to a private murmur. "Let's talk inside. No need to give the people out here a show."
Once inside, Charles placed the bouquet on the TV cabinet, saying he wanted it to be the first thing she saw when she woke.
Cecilia glanced at the sunflowers, then at him, and steeled herself. "I'm glad you came to see me. But you should leave now—before my husband gets the wrong idea about us."
Still clinging to the illusion of marital harmony, she earned a blunt reply.
"How long are you planning to keep up this act, Cecilia?"
Since Charles clearly knew everything, she stopped pretending.
"I don't want to hide the truth from you. But Rufus… he has a vindictive streak. He doesn't love me, but he would never tolerate his wife—at least in name—having any contact with another man. If he found out, I don't even know how far he'd go."
She was willing to sink alone into the mire, but she wouldn't drag anyone else down with her.
Even now, she was the same as Charles remembered—always thinking of others first. How could he possibly let her go?
He ruffled her hair gently, each word deliberate. "Don't worry. I've got a way out. I can see you hate this place."
The room's cold, impersonal décor was devoid of warmth. To Cecilia, it was nothing short of a cage.
"No matter what, I'm going to get you out of here." His promise landed heavy.
She didn't dare hope too much, but the words still caught her off guard. The last person to say something like that had been Rufus… and he'd broken his promise.
"All right. I'll wait. But you have to promise me—whatever happens, your safety comes first."
She relented at last. The truth was, she wanted to leave as badly as he wanted to take her.
At the Chapman Group offices, Rufus had just stepped out of a meeting, fatigue still clinging to him, when the front desk relayed a message: a gentleman was here to see him.
Almost instantly, a name came to mind—Charles. Rufus was curious enough to give the order to let him through.
In the CEO's office, Rufus lounged back in his chair, watching Charles push the door open. He didn't bother speaking first.
Charles set a stack of papers on the desk. "Mr. Chapman, I know you're not exactly thrilled to see me. But I'm here to solve a problem for you."
That earned Rufus's interest. His gaze flicked to the papers. "And what problem would that be?"
He unfolded one sheet and scanned it. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding audibly as he fought to keep control.
Charles's satisfaction was visible.
"What the hell is this? And what's this garbage supposed to mean?" Rufus held the letter between two fingers, his tone sharp.
The letters were love notes—pages Cecilia and Charles had spent the morning crafting, dated from middle school to college to the present. The paper had been aged for authenticity, creating a past that had never existed.
As childhood friends, they had plenty of photos together. Charles had pasted them alongside the letters.
Rufus's hand clenched around the page, eyes locked on Cecilia's bright, unrestrained smile in one of the photos. How long had it been since she smiled like that? Or was it simply that she never smiled that way at him?
Charles knew Rufus's temperament—he would never accept the idea of his wife harboring feelings for another man, even in name only.
Rufus's possessiveness bordered on pathological. That was exactly what Charles intended to provoke—and break.
"I'm not asking for much. Just that you let me and Cecilia be together. We loved each other once, but a misunderstanding kept us apart. Now I want to make it right.
"You don't care about her, Mr. Chapman. Why not let her go?"
With every word, Rufus felt the violent heat in his blood rise. Finally, he couldn't hold it back. He stood and drove his fist into Charles's face.
It was a full-force blow. Caught off guard, Charles staggered, nearly hitting the floor. But instead of fear, his eyes shone with exhilaration.
"Am I wrong? Why get so worked up, Mr. Chapman?" His tone was still mocking.
Rufus didn't bother arguing. He called security, ordering them to drag Charles out.
Then he stormed down to the parking garage.
He slammed the accelerator, the car surging forward well past the speed limit. All he could think about was finding Cecilia and getting answers.
At the hospital, Cecilia's health had worsened. Just walking a few steps left her breathless, so she stayed in her room. Still, her mind kept circling back to Charles.
The door burst open with a violent kick. She didn't need to look to know Rufus was back.
Her brow furrowed.
His voice was a demand, sharp and unyielding. "Tell me—what's going on between you and Charles?"
She hadn't expected Charles to move so quickly. Instead of answering, she shot back, "What did you do to him?"
That question was worse than a confession. Rufus's anger spiked. He gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Still worried about him? Do you even remember who you are?"
To him, her emotional betrayal was nearly unbearable. For a moment, he wanted to strangle her.
But he held back—barely.