Chapter 37 Parting on Bad Terms
Brad didn't raise his voice, didn't bother to argue. He simply closed the door in her face, shutting out every bit of her furious shouting. The solid click of the latch was final, and the barrier between them felt absolute.
Before leaving, he tossed one last sentence over his shoulder, his tone detached and almost bored. "Whether it's true or not, you'll find out tomorrow. Save your tears for then."
The words hit Cecilia like ice water, but it was the silence that followed—thick, suffocating—that truly wrapped around her. The panic of losing someone she loved surged through her chest, tightening until she could barely breathe.
Only one thought burned in her mind now: she had to see Patrick.
She dropped to her knees and scrambled to the door, clawing at the handle, trying to force it open. But the lock was engaged from the outside. No matter how she pulled or pushed, the door refused to yield.
Her strength drained away. She leaned against the doorframe, hot tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked.
That night stretched endlessly. Sleep never came. Cecilia sat there, rigid and hollow-eyed, waiting through the hours as darkness gave way to the pale wash of dawn.
And then—footsteps. Rufus appeared.
"You're here… you finally came." Her eyes lit up, hope flaring in her chest like a spark catching on dry tinder.
Rufus stopped short, clearly startled to find her still there. His brows drew together in disapproval. "You didn't sleep last night? You stayed here the whole time?"
She didn't answer his question. Instead, her voice was tight, urgent. "Can you take me to see my grandfather now?"
She had already decided—if she could see Patrick, it would prove Brad was lying. That everything he said was a cruel trick.
But Rufus didn't speak. Not a word. His silence was heavy, unfamiliar, and it made her stomach clench with unease.
"You're not lying to me, are you? My grandfather… did something happen to him? Tell me! Say something!" Her voice wavered, then rose, sharp and desperate.
By the end, she was nearly screaming, clawing at his words as if she could drag the truth out by force. But all she got back was more silence.
That silence was worse than any answer. It was as if Rufus's refusal to speak confirmed Brad's warning. Patrick might truly be in trouble.
Her heart plummeted. She shoved past Rufus, intent on leaving, but he caught her arm.
"You can't go."
"Why?" She fought to keep her voice even, but emotion bled through. "You told me I could see my grandfather today."
He hesitated, and that hesitation was enough to shatter her fragile patience.
Her emotions broke free, raw and unrestrained. Tears streaked her face as she asked the question she'd been afraid to face. "Tell me—did something happen to him?"
Rufus pressed his lips together. "Cecilia, calm down…"
"Tell me!" she cut him off, her voice cracking into a near roar.
Still, he didn't answer. And in that moment, she understood. She didn't need his words—his silence was enough.
Her voice fell to a whisper, stripped of all warmth. "I don't understand… I can't begin to understand what I've done to deserve this—from you, from Blair. I can't even hold on to the one person who means the most to me."
Her eyes were dull now, her tone emptied of hope. "If you want my life, take it. Just take it."
Rufus flinched. He hated seeing her like this—empty, without the will to fight.
"You can't think like that," he said quickly.
She shot him a glare that stopped him cold. She didn't want to hear another word.
"Listen to me—"
"Get out." Her eyes blazed red.
She struck at him, fists pounding against his chest, trying to push him away. She didn't even know what she meant to achieve—only that she needed distance. Being near him was unbearable.
She kept hitting him, and Rufus didn't stop her. He didn't even speak, just absorbed each blow in silence.
Then blood welled on her fingertips, bright and sudden. Rufus caught her hands, holding them still. "What happened to your hands?"
Tiny beads of blood dotted each finger, some smearing onto his tailored suit. Normally, he was meticulous—almost obsessive—about cleanliness. Now, he didn't seem to notice. His focus was entirely on her injuries.
Cecilia gave a bitter laugh. "What does it matter to you?"
She tried to yank her hands back, but his grip was firm. She failed again and again, frustration boiling in her veins.
"I'll ask you one more time—how did this happen?" His voice was low, insistent.
She looked at him, amused by the sudden concern. It was almost grotesque. "Are you sure you want to know?"
Something in her tone made him uneasy, but he nodded anyway.
She gave a smile that held no warmth. "Who else could it be? Blair did it while you were gone. Fingers go straight to the heart… she aims for pain and makes sure it sticks. I don't even know what you see in her. Is it because both of you are willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want?"
Her words cut like glass, her face an unsettling blend of innocence and cruelty.
"You're talking nonsense," Rufus shot back, the concern in his voice evaporating.
To him, Blair was gentle to a fault—someone who wouldn't harm even an ant on the pavement. The thought that she could hurt Cecilia was unthinkable.
But Cecilia had accused Blair before—more than once—and always with venom.
She gave a small, mocking laugh. "You don't believe me. You probably think I did this to myself just to blame her. Don't you?"
He didn't answer. His gaze locked on hers, steady. "Blair isn't that kind of person."
Her laugh broke, turning into something almost tearful. She laughed at herself, at Blair's clumsy cruelty, and at Rufus's blind devotion.
"If it wasn't her, then where did these wounds come from? Not many people have been in my hospital room. You could find out easily if you wanted to." Her eyes held his, daring him to prove her wrong.
He paused, then said, "These injuries appeared while you were unconscious. You can't be certain who caused them. Why do you always assume the worst about Blair? If it weren't for her, you'd have fallen from the balcony."
That made her laugh outright—sharp, humorless. Blair had been the one to inject her with something that made her wish for death. Blair had coaxed her toward the edge. And at the last moment, Blair had stopped her. Better to let her fall.
The argument escalated, neither willing to yield. Words turned to shouts, then to silence as they realized they'd reached a wall they couldn't climb.
Rufus left, tension radiating from his shoulders. It was exactly what she wanted.
When his footsteps faded down the hall, Cecilia took a deep breath, forcing herself to steady. Then she opened the door and stepped out.
She had to know what had happened to Patrick.