Chapter 34 Madness
"Cecilia, are you really that low?"
It was the first time Rufus had ever used words this cruel. In the past, he might scold her, but never with something so cutting, so humiliating. This time, it was proof enough—he was truly furious.
He couldn't fathom what was going through her mind, gambling with her own life like that. What if she had fallen? What if she hadn't survived?
"You really will stop at nothing, won't you?" Rufus's voice was sharp, every syllable like a weight pressing down on her. "Do you have even the faintest shred of decency left in you?"
The words landed on her like a ton of bricks. She struggled to breathe, tried to speak, but before she could form the words, a warm metallic taste flooded her mouth—blood spilling faster than any explanation she could give.
She was bleeding, thick drops splattering onto the floor. Her eyes were already shot through with red.
Before Rufus could say more, her body gave way. Darkness rushed in, and she collapsed, slipping into a nightmare.
It was a long, relentless dream. In it, she had to stay alert every moment, a constant tension coiling inside her until it threatened to break her mind.
Around her was nothing but pitch-black emptiness, the kind where even stretching out a hand was useless—you saw nothing, felt nothing but the oppressive void. She couldn't tell which way was forward, couldn't even be sure what kind of place she was trapped in.
But one thing she knew for certain—she was utterly alone.
No footsteps. No voices. No signs of anyone else.
Her fear was a living thing inside her chest when the sound came—a beast's roar, raw and violent, ripping through the silence. It was so loud it felt like it would tear her eardrums apart. She tried to clamp her hands over her ears, but it was useless. Warm blood began to seep from them, trickling, then streaming faster and faster.
The beast went wild, charging toward her. Instinct screamed at her to run. She did—bolting through the dark, lungs burning, never daring to stop.
She was so tired. So impossibly tired. But she kept running… until the world itself began to crumble. Walls, ground, sky—everything collapsing into nothing. She found a corner, curled into it, and watched the dream fall apart. A strange thought took root: maybe she could stay here forever.
It was small, cramped, but safe. Nothing here could hurt her.
In the hospital, Rufus stood outside the ICU, staring at Cecilia's motionless body, his temper boiling over.
"You told me there was nothing wrong with her," he snapped at Jason. "So why the hell is she coughing up blood? And why hasn't she woken up after all this time?" His hands fisted in Jason's collar, pulling him close.
Jason was the specialist Rufus had hired from overseas to treat Blair, and Rufus had always treated him with respect.
This was the first time he'd crossed that line, showing just how deeply Cecilia's condition had shaken him.
Jason's eyes darted toward Blair, silently pleading for her to intervene.
Blair's chest ached watching Rufus unravel over Cecilia, but she forced herself to speak calmly. "Rufus, don't do this. Jason's already said there's nothing wrong with her physically. He's run every test. This time should be no different from before."
Her meaning was clear—she believed Cecilia was faking it, just as she had played the victim before. But Rufus wasn't buying it.
He gave Jason a final warning. "I don't care what it takes. Wake her up. Or you won't be working here anymore."
The room went still. Jason hadn't imagined he'd ever be threatened like that. Blair hadn't imagined Rufus would risk losing her doctor… for Cecilia.
A hot pulse of fear spread through Blair's chest, but she smothered it, offering him a softer tone. "Rufus, let me stay here. I'll keep watch. The moment there's any change, I'll call you."
Her gaze flicked to his phone, buzzing nonstop. "You need to be at Chapman Group. Those people can't run things without you. Let me handle this."
Rufus opened his mouth to argue, but Blair cut him off.
"You trust me, don't you?"
The words were a trap he couldn't sidestep without insulting her. So he left—though every few steps, he glanced back, reluctant to tear his eyes from Cecilia.
'So worried about her, are you?' she thought.
She watched his car leave the underground garage before turning to Cecilia's still form.
"Do you know, Cecilia? I'm almost glad I didn't let you die back then." Her voice was a whisper, her eyes fixed on that pale face.
Her hand brushed across Cecilia's cheek. "I never realized how important you were to him. I thought if you were gone, I could finally rest easy. I was wrong. So wrong."
With the way Rufus clung to her now, if she died, he'd remember her forever.
And Blair… Blair would spend the rest of her life trapped in the shadow of Cecilia's name.
Unacceptable.
Her gaze slid to the syringe on the tray. Slowly, she smiled.
One hand held Cecilia's limp fingers. The other took up the syringe. Her movements were steady, almost reverent, as she drove the needle into one fingertip after another.
It was the cruelest method she could think of—pain sharp enough to reach the heart, but leaving no visible mark. Even unconscious, Cecilia's body would feel it.
Her eyes stayed shut, her face tightening in discomfort.
Blair didn't stop. She kept pricking, her voice low and venomous. "The best fate for you isn't death. It's ending up like your grandfather—locked inside your own body, a useless shell. Every breath, every movement, controlled by someone else. Would Rufus still pine for you then?"
A breathless, almost giddy laugh escaped her. "Or maybe someone ruins you… makes you filthy beyond repair…"
She kept talking, each word feeding her frenzy, until the sound of the door opening cut through her thoughts.
She turned, startled, to find Brad standing behind her.
He set a hand on her shoulder, a sigh slipping from his lips.
Blair froze, dread crawling up her spine. She didn't dare meet his eyes. Fear had found her at last.