Chapter 36 Is Patrick Dead?
"I don't want to hear those words from you again." Rufus's voice was low, carrying the weight of a final warning.
Cecilia glanced down at her hands. A sharp, needling pain pricked from her fingertips, each sting like a tiny blade. She didn't have to think twice to know who was behind it.
But she said nothing. Instead, she nodded obediently. "I understand. I won't say it again."
Even if it was for Patrick's sake, she had to stay alive.
"I want to see my grandfather… It's been so long since I've talked to him." Her voice was cautious, almost fragile, and her eyes held a glimmer of hope.
No matter how busy she was, Cecilia had always carved out two or three days each week to sit with Patrick. Even if he couldn't respond, simply being near him brought her a quiet sense of peace.
But lately, one crisis had followed another, leaving her with no choice but to stay away. She couldn't help wondering if Patrick resented her absence.
Rufus didn't answer right away. He remained silent for a long moment.
The pause made Cecilia's heart tighten. Alarm bells rang in her mind, her thoughts spiraling toward darker possibilities.
She gripped Rufus's hand, her voice urgent. "Why aren't you saying anything? Did something happen to my grandfather?"
Deep down, she already had a terrible suspicion. But she didn't dare think it through—afraid the truth would crush her. All she could do was cling to the hope that Rufus would tell her Patrick was fine, that her fears were nothing but paranoia.
But Rufus stayed silent. The silence made her chest ache. She threw off the covers, yanked the IV from her hand, and swung her legs off the bed, ignoring the blood welling from the puncture in her skin.
"Are you out of your mind?" Rufus caught her immediately, forcing her back onto the bed before pressing the call button for the nurse.
He had more to say, but when his eyes fell on Cecilia's tear-rimmed gaze, every sharp word lodged in his throat.
Closing his eyes briefly, he opened them again with a hardened resolve. "Your grandfather is fine, lying safely in the hospital. What nonsense are you imagining? Or do you plan to die before he does?"
Then, almost as an afterthought, Rufus added, "If you die, there will be no one left to care about whether he lives or dies."
The words hit her like a cold wave. Her frantic struggle ceased. She sat quietly while the nurse reinserted the IV.
Tilting her head toward Rufus, she asked one last time, "He's really fine, isn't he?"
Rufus frowned, answering with another question. "Safe in the hospital—what could possibly happen?"
Cecilia nodded, though her expression was dazed. She couldn't bring herself to imagine life without Patrick.
"I'm going to see him tomorrow," she said.
It wasn't a request or a plea—it was a decision. Rufus knew her well enough to understand that once she spoke like that, nothing could stop her.
He sighed quietly, but still agreed. "Alright. I'll arrange it."
Hearing no objection, Cecilia forced herself to relax. Maybe she really was overthinking. Patrick had been bedridden for years without waking, but at least his condition was stable.
What could possibly happen?
Still, unease lingered in her chest.
Meanwhile, Brad left Blair's room and headed straight toward Cecilia's.
He paused outside, overhearing every word between her and Rufus, before stepping in.
"Mr. Chapman, let me take it from here." Brad's smile was calculated, his tone agreeable as he moved to comfort Cecilia, whose emotions had yet to settle.
It suited Rufus just fine—he had no idea how to face her right now. With a nod, he left quickly, his stride uncharacteristically uneven.
Had Cecilia been paying attention, she would have noticed how the usually composed Rufus had lost his steady pace.
When the door clicked shut, the room fell quiet again. Cecilia shot Brad a sideways glance, her tone sharp. "What are you doing here?"
"Visiting you, of course." Brad replied smoothly, ignoring her coldness.
Cecilia let out a dry laugh. "Save the fatherly act for an audience. I'm tired of it, even if you're not."
Brad didn't flinch at the jab. He shrugged lightly. "I thought maybe, after learning the truth, you might want someone to lean on. I tried to get closer. Turns out you still don't know how to be grateful."
Her eyes narrowed. "What truth? What are you talking about?"
"You mean you don't know?" Brad feigned surprise, though his tone was deliberately teasing.
"Stop playing games. What are you trying to say?" Her irritation was mounting, and with it, her unease.
Brad's expression shifted to something almost pitying. "I thought you'd already heard about your grandfather's death. I didn't expect you to believe Rufus's lies."
Shaking his head, Brad went on, "His body's already in the morgue, and you—his granddaughter—still don't know. Pathetic, really. Sometimes I think Rufus is too cruel, not even letting you see him one last time."
The impact of his words was like a blow to the chest. Cecilia froze, struggling to process them. When she finally did, her composure shattered.
"What are you talking about?" she shouted. "He's fine in the hospital—why would you curse him like that?"
Brad raised a hand dismissively. "I'm not cursing him. I'm telling you the truth."
"Impossible!" Her voice was firm, but inside, the balance was shifting toward the terrible possibility.
She knew Brad might be telling the truth. This wasn't the kind of lie that could last—if Rufus took her to see Patrick tomorrow, it would fall apart instantly.
Brad had no reason to invent something so easily disproven. Which left only one explanation: Patrick really was gone.
"I need to see my grandfather. I'm going to him now!" Tears streamed down her face as she swung her legs off the bed again, her whole body trembling with the onset of panic.
"Take me to him! I need to see him!" Her cry was raw, desperate, and filled the room.