Chapter 63 The Edge of Cecilia's Time
Louis had heard Carl's muttered remark as clearly as if it had been spoken into his ear. He didn't react. In Rufus's world, decisions were not open to debate, and Louis had learned to wear a smile when silence was the wiser choice.
When Carl left, Louis slid behind the wheel and started the engine. Cecilia sat quietly in the passenger seat, her head turned toward the window.
The city lights blurred into streaks as the car sped through the streets. She didn't speak, didn't move, just watched the world retreat from her like a tide pulling away from shore.
Louis glanced at her, trying to read her expression. "Mrs. Chapman… try not to dwell on what happened tonight. Mr. Chapman cares about you, I'm sure of it. He just… doesn't always know how to show it."
He thought she was brooding over Rufus's coldness and wanted to ease the weight in her eyes. Louis had always found Cecilia far easier to deal with than Blair—at least Cecilia laid her cards on the table.
Blair, on the other hand, smiled sweetly while sharpening knives behind your back, especially if you ever crossed her.
Cecilia's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile, but she didn't answer. Whether Rufus cared or not was irrelevant. What mattered was finding a way out of the whirlpool before it dragged her under completely.
She didn't ask Louis why he'd said it. It might have been kindness, or something else entirely. She didn't want to know.
"Don't let anyone else hear you say that," she murmured, her voice low enough to be swallowed by the hum of the engine. "Especially Blair."
Louis understood instantly. Blair's vindictiveness was a quiet poison—if she ever learned Louis had spoken in Cecilia's favor, she'd make sure he paid for it.
He gave a small nod, grateful for the warning. They let the conversation die there, both aware that pushing it further would only lead into dangerous territory.
Cecilia's phone vibrated against her palm. A message from Charles.
She unlocked the screen, her gaze settling on the thread between them. Charles's words were short, but they carried the weight of a lifeline.
Charles: [Everything is ready. We just need the right moment to put the plan in motion. The people who will play along and the burned corpse are in place. All that's left is your word.]
After a pause, another message appeared.
Charles: [You need to think carefully. Once this is done, there will be no Cecilia in this world. You'll have to live under a new identity.]
Cecilia's fingers hovered over the screen. That didn't trouble her. She had already died a hundred times—in nights wracked with pain, in moments when breathing felt like drowning. She should have followed Patrick long ago. Every day since then had been borrowed time, and she didn't expect more.
Her thumbs moved quickly.
Cecilia: [I'm sure. Thank you. Without your help, I don't know how much longer I'd be trapped here. I won't forget this. Once I'm out, I'll repay you.]
Charles frowned at her reply. She was still so formal, still unwilling to burden anyone. He wanted her to understand that she was never a burden to him.
Charles: [You've never been trouble to me. The fact that you thought to come to me now… I'm glad. It's an honor to help you.]
Cecilia stared at the message for a long time. She knew what Charles felt, but she didn't have the courage, the energy, or the time to answer it. She was dying.
Better not to leave behind tangled emotions she couldn't resolve—better to face the end with nothing pulling her back.
She closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool glass of the window, and said nothing more.
The drive ended at the hospital. Louis led her inside, straight to the blood testing area.
The needle stung as it pierced her skin. She remembered being a child, crying whenever the school's annual checkup involved blood work. Now, pain barely registered. She'd endured worse—both in her body and in her mind. This was nothing.
She had learned no one cared about her tears. They didn't inspire sympathy, only irritation. So why waste them?
Because the visit had been arranged quietly, the process moved quickly. While they waited for the results, Louis seemed far more anxious than Cecilia herself. She sat with a detached calm, as if the outcome belonged to someone else entirely.
Two hours later, Dr. Felix appeared with the report in hand. His expression was troubled, his gaze shifting between Louis and Cecilia, shadowed with the kind of pity she despised.
Cecilia had never understood why strangers were the ones who seemed to care, while the people she loved dismissed her pain like it was nothing.
"What exactly does the report say?" Louis asked first.
Felix sighed, not answering immediately. "What's your relationship to the patient?"
Louis hesitated. "No real relationship."
"Then I need her legal guardian," Felix said, closing the report as if to keep its contents contained.
Louis leaned forward, unwilling to let it go. "Is there something wrong with Ms. Thorne's health? Mr. Chapman told me I have full authority to act on her behalf. Whatever it is, you can speak freely."
Felix's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"
Louis nodded.
Felix exhaled slowly. "Ms. Thorne's condition is critical. Her body is at the breaking point. I don't know why she came in so late, but if she'd been examined earlier, there might have been options. Now… if I'm being blunt, her body won't sustain her for more than a few days. That's why I need her guardian—or Mr. Chapman—here."
Louis blinked, startled. "You're certain? She had a full medical exam recently, overseen by an international team. The report said she was perfectly healthy."
Felix's jaw tightened—not from insult, but from anger. "Then that so-called team was criminally negligent. Anyone with a shred of competence could see her systems are failing. There is no way she was 'perfectly healthy.'"