Chapter 60 Blair's Sweet Little Victories
Blair had always been quick on her feet. The moment she heard the faint click of the front door opening, her mind was already racing ahead, sketching a plan in the space between heartbeats.
The shards from the broken glass on the floor glittered under the light, sharp as tiny knives.
Without hesitation, she went down onto them, her palm pressing hard against the jagged edges. The sting was immediate, white-hot, and blood welled up almost instantly.
"Blair?" Rufus's voice cut through the air, sharp with alarm.
He rushed to her side, pulling her up with a grip that was almost too tight. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, pausing at the crimson blooming across her hand. Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone and called the family doctor.
Blair's tears spilled freely now, her face buried against Rufus's chest. The sobs shook her shoulders, raw and unrestrained.
This time, the pain wasn't an act. It was real. But in her mind, it was worth every drop of blood. The more she looked like the victim, the more Rufus would despise Cecilia… and the more he would cling to her.
Cecilia, meanwhile, had her own injury to contend with—a deep cut on her head—but no one seemed to care. She didn't even get a glance until she staggered to her feet, her balance wavering. Only then did Rufus's gaze flick to her, his expression tightening at the sight of the wound.
Blair felt the shift in him instantly. The change in his breathing, the way his arm loosened around her—it was all she needed to know he was thinking about Cecilia.
And it infuriated her. She pressed closer to him, crying harder, as if she could drown out any thought he might have of the other woman.
"What happened here? How does this even happen out of nowhere?" Rufus's eyes darted between them, suspicion pooling in his gaze before settling firmly on Cecilia.
Blair's voice trembled with well-practiced fragility. "I don't even know what I did to upset her this time. I promised you I'd convince you not to let her take care of me anymore. But she… she still did this. Does she really want me gone that badly?"
She painted the picture in just a few strokes—the jealous rival, the unprovoked attack. It was exactly the version of events she wanted Rufus to believe.
Cecilia's head throbbed, her vision swimming, but the sting of Blair's accusation cut deeper than the wound. She couldn't stay silent.
"It was you," she said, her voice hoarse but steady. "You lost your temper the second Rufus stepped out, and you threw that glass at me. The shards on the floor, the gash on my head—they're all your handiwork."
She shook her head, disbelief etched into her features. "I don't understand how you can twist this… how you can stand here and lie like this."
"Is that true?" Rufus looked down at Blair, his tone already dripping with bias.
If the roles had been reversed, if Blair had been the one accusing Cecilia, Rufus wouldn't have asked for explanations. He would have gone straight to punishment, calling it a lesson Cecilia needed to learn.
But now, with Blair in his arms, his judgment was already made.
Blair's lashes fluttered, her eyes shimmering with tears as she denied it. "Of course not. She's the one who smashed the glass after you left and pushed me into it."
Cecilia's voice rose, frustration breaking through the pain. "Then explain why the so-called attacker is sitting in the middle of those shards, crying like she's the one who's been wronged?"
Rufus's jaw tightened. He didn't believe her. He had already decided which story was true.
"I'm telling you," Cecilia said, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger. "She heard the door, and she threw herself onto the glass. Don't you see, Rufus? She keeps pulling these cheap, cruel tricks because she knows you'll believe her every time. You stand on her side without hesitation, and that's why she's fearless."
In truth, much of Cecilia's pain came from Rufus himself. He had built the stage for Blair's games and handed her the spotlight.
Before Rufus could respond, Blair's sobs swelled again, her voice breaking into a perfect imitation of wounded innocence. "That's not true. You smashed the glass, you shoved me down, and then you—" she paused for effect, "—you slammed your head into the wall when you heard the door. You're the one who's scheming, Cecilia, not me."
Cecilia almost admired Blair's performance. The woman could lie with such conviction it was as if she believed her own words. And maybe she did.
Now both stories were out in the open. The rest was up to Rufus.
But before he could speak, the family doctor arrived.
Rufus guided Blair to the sofa, ignoring Cecilia entirely. He watched every move the doctor made as he picked out the tiny shards embedded in Blair's skin, his expression tight with something close to desperation. If he could take the pain for her, he would.
Blair played the part of the brave patient, her tears clinging to her lashes but refusing to fall. She looked like someone who hated pity, someone who would rather grit her teeth than be seen as weak.
That was part of why Rufus adored her. In his mind, Blair was delicate in some ways, but strong when it mattered. She was the kind of woman who could stand beside him on Horizon Hope, the only one worthy of his promise.
To him, the injury was hers, but the pain was his.
The treatment took more than ten minutes, each second dragging over Rufus like sandpaper.
Cecilia stood silently nearby, her own blood drying against her temple. She felt like a ghost in the room, an unwanted shadow.
When Blair was finally bandaged, Rufus turned at last to Cecilia. His lips pressed into a hard line as he closed the distance between them.
"Rufus, please… just trust me this once. I didn't do it." Her voice was thin, her eyes pleading.
He didn't answer. He simply stared at her, unreadable, until she tried to speak again. Then his hand shot out, shoving her hard enough that she stumbled and fell. Her palm landed in the shards, the pain flaring bright and sharp. Tears pricked her eyes, but the ache in her chest was far worse.
She couldn't believe it. Rufus had pushed her. Rufus.
"This is your punishment," he said coldly. "Maybe it will teach you to stop crossing lines. I've told you before—Blair is not someone you can afford to provoke. But you never listen."
The words were final. In his mind, the case was closed. Cecilia was guilty. Blair's story, no matter how absurd, was the truth.
Cecilia's throat tightened. She wanted to cry, but nothing came.
Rufus didn't spare her another glance. He turned back to Blair, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her upstairs. His gaze never flickered toward Cecilia, as if she were nothing more than debris on the floor.
Out of Rufus's view, Blair's smile spread, slow and certain. She glanced at Cecilia, and the look in her eyes said it all… he was hers, and always would be.