Chapter 92 As Long As You Are Fine
"Cecilia."
Rufus's throat moved as he spoke, each syllable soaked in a sick blend of obsession and certainty.
"You finally came back."
The words detonated inside the ruins of her world.
He recognized her.
Not suspicion—absolute conviction.
Impossible.
Cecilia's head snapped up. She pulled against his grip with every ounce of strength she had.
"Sir, you've got the wrong person!" Her voice was sharp, forced into clarity by sheer will. "Let go of me right now or I'll call the police!"
Rufus didn't move. His fingers tightened around her wrist.
Then his other hand lifted, reaching for her face.
Cecilia turned away, revulsion twisting her features.
His hand froze midair. For a moment, that blood-drained face carried something almost fragile—hurt.
"I'm not mistaken," he said, stubborn as stone.
He stepped closer, closing the space until her back met the wall, trapping her between it and his body.
"I've been looking for you for so long. Every day, I wondered if you were still alive."
His voice faltered, unraveling into a rush of confession.
"I know I was wrong, Cecilia. I've dug through everything—Brad, Blair, all of it. I know what I did was vile. I know I was a bastard."
His eyes, red-rimmed and unblinking, locked on hers, heavy with regret and pain.
"Come back to me. Please. Give me a chance… a chance to make it right."
Make it right?
He had shattered her life. Patrick was dead because of him. The child she carried—Soren—had bled away before she could even hold him. And she herself had burned in despair until nothing remained but ash.
Now Rufus thought a single plea could erase it all?
Why? Why did he think he had the right to speak those words?
Hatred surged past fear, tearing through the mask she had worn.
Her palm whipped across his face, all her strength behind it.
The sharp crack exploded in the silence of the booth.
Rufus's head snapped to the side. His body went rigid.
"Listen carefully, sir." Cecilia's chest rose and fell in jagged waves, each word sharpened with ice. "I'm not Cecilia. You've mistaken me for someone else. You're making me extremely uncomfortable, so get out of my way."
She didn't wait for a reply. She turned and bolted for the door.
"Stop!" Rufus's roar followed, raw and furious. His hand clamped around her arm, yanking her back.
She stumbled, fighting to keep her balance.
She couldn't let him take her. Never.
"Help! Someone's harassing me!" The cry ripped from her throat, high and piercing.
The restaurant's quiet shattered.
"What happened?"
"Sounds like it's coming from Greenfield Pavilion!"
Footsteps and voices rushed closer.
Rufus hesitated.
Now.
Cecilia drove her knee into his stomach, hard.
He grunted, the grip on her arm loosening just enough.
She tore free, stumbling toward the door.
As she yanked it open, she collided with the restaurant manager and several servers.
"Ma'am, are you—"
She didn't give them a chance to finish. Hair disheveled, clothes rumpled, she pushed past them, her expression wild with shock, and ran for the exit.
"Stop her!" Rufus's voice thundered from behind.
Too late.
She was gone, her figure vanishing through the front doors.
She ran without stopping, without looking back.
The night air scraped down her throat, cold and bitter.
She didn't know how long she had been running until the hospital's inpatient building loomed ahead. Only then did her taut nerves snap.
She burst through the doors, bracing herself against the wall, breath ragged, her body shaking uncontrollably.
No. This wasn't safe.
Rufus would find out who Amelia was. He would track her here.
Cecilia pushed her failing body toward the nurses' station.
Head Nurse Lisa was checking the night shift roster. She looked up, startled at Cecilia's pale, haunted face.
"Amelia? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Cecilia reached the counter, palms flat against it, her voice broken by gasps.
"Lisa… I… I need to take leave."
"Again?" Lisa's brows drew together, ready to scold—until she saw the bloodless lips, the drained complexion. "Is it your heart again?"
"Yes." Cecilia pressed a hand to her chest, nodding through the pain. "It's bad… Lisa, I need to rest for a few days."
Lisa's irritation melted into concern.
"You can barely stand. Fine, fine—I'll approve it. Go back to your dorm. And if it gets worse, head to the ER. Don't turn a small problem into a big one."
"Thank you, Lisa. Thank you."
Leave granted, Cecilia didn't waste a second. She staggered toward the staff dormitory.
She knew how powerful Rufus was. Finding a nurse's address would take him minutes.
She had to plan her next move before he found her.
Back in her small single dorm, she locked the door and slid down against it, her strength gone.
Fear and the aftershock of escape drowned her.
Then her phone began to vibrate violently in her pocket.
She froze.
Was it Rufus?
Her eyes locked on the buzzing device. Her heartbeat curled tight in her chest.
The call persisted, again and again.
Finally, she forced herself to pull it out.
The screen lit with Charles's name.
Relief crashed through her, loosening every muscle.
She swiped to answer. Before she could speak, Charles's voice spilled through—fast, urgent, and heavy with guilt.
"Ms. Martinez! Listen to me! I'm sorry—God, I'm so sorry! That wasn't me!"
His words tumbled over each other, raw with panic.
"They took my phone—Rufus's people. That message about meeting wasn't from me! They locked me up, and I just escaped. Are you okay? Did Rufus… did he hurt you?"
The tension that had held her mind in a vice finally broke.
So that was it.
Thank God. Charles was safe.
Relief flooded her, drowning out the fear and anger.
She leaned against the cold door, exhaling slowly. Her voice was weak, but somewhere inside it carried a lightness she hadn't felt before.
"I'm fine, Mr. Smith."
She closed her eyes.
"As long as you're safe… that's all that matters."