Chapter 114 For The Best
The days after Derek’s grandfather’s death passed slowly, each one heavier than the last.
The mansion that once felt powerful and full of life now seemed unusually quiet, almost hollow. The long hallways echoed more than they used to, and even the softest footsteps sounded too loud in the silence. Curtains remained partly drawn, allowing only muted daylight to slip into the rooms, casting a pale, tired glow over everything.
But Derek barely noticed any of it.
His days were filled with responsibilities. Funeral planners came and went with schedules and suggestions. Lawyers discussed documents and inheritance matters. Relatives called to confirm their arrival. He listened, nodded, signed where needed, and spoke in a calm, controlled tone that made him appear composed.
Anyone watching would think he was handling everything perfectly.
But inside, his thoughts were restless and heavy, refusing to settle.
Every time he stepped into his grandfather’s study to review papers, his chest tightened. The large leather chair behind the desk remained empty, pushed back slightly as if the man who owned it had just stood up and would return at any moment. Derek often found himself staring at it longer than necessary, half expecting to hear his grandfather’s firm voice criticizing his decisions or reminding him to stay focused.
Instead, there was only silence.
A deep, final silence that made the reality harder to accept.
Rebecca stayed close to him through it all.
She welcomed guests with polite warmth, made sure he ate even when he said he wasn’t hungry, and gently reminded him to rest when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. She didn’t question him too much. She didn’t push him to talk about his feelings. She simply remained beside him, steady and patient, offering quiet support in every small way she could.
To everyone else, they looked strong together, united in grief, the grieving grandson and the loyal woman who loved him deeply.
But grief has a way of making old memories louder than they should be.
And Celia understood that perfectly.
She didn’t come immediately. She waited a few days, allowing Derek’s exhaustion to build, allowing the emotional weight to settle deeper into him. Only when she knew he would be more vulnerable, more distracted, and less guarded did she finally appear.
One afternoon, she appeared at the mansion, dressed simply in black, looking respectful and calm.
When the maid announced her name, Derek paused for a second before saying, "Let her in."
Rebecca was upstairs at the time.
Celia walked into the living room slowly, her eyes soft as they settled on Derek. He looked different, less sharp, less controlled, as if exhaustion had finally begun to show.
"I heard about your grandfather," she said gently. "I’m really sorry, Derek."
He didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at her, and for a moment, the room seemed filled with unspoken memories from years ago.
"He cared about you," Celia continued softly. "Even if he didn’t always show it the way you wanted."
Derek’s expression hardened slightly. "You said he forced you to leave," he replied, his tone carrying quiet accusation. The thought that kept haunting him resurfaced again, if he hadn’t gone to confront her, if he hadn’t argued with his grandfather, would things have turned out differently?
Celia remained calm. "I said he believed it was best for you," she corrected gently. "He thought you needed focus… that you had a future you couldn’t risk losing." She lowered her eyes briefly before adding, "Maybe I should have fought harder. Maybe things would have been different."
Those words stayed with Derek long after she left that day.
After that, Celia began to visit more often.
She always chose her moments carefully. She never overstayed and never acted inappropriate. Sometimes she brought flowers. Sometimes she only asked if he was eating well or sleeping enough. To anyone else, she appeared like a respectful acquaintance simply offering condolences.
But during those short visits, she slowly brought up the past.
She reminded him of how close they once were, of the plans they had made when they were younger, of the future they once believed they would share. She never directly blamed his grandfather, never raised her voice, never pushed too hard. Instead, she spoke softly, leaving questions hanging gently in the air.
What if things had been different?
What if your grandfather hadn’t interfered?
What if we had stayed together?
Derek never openly agreed with her. He never said he still loved her, because deep down, he wasn’t even sure what he felt anymore. It wasn’t exactly love. It felt more like unfinished business, like a chapter of his life that had ended too suddenly, without closure.
And that unfinished past began pulling at him during his weakest moments.
Soon, he started keeping late nights.
At first, the excuse came easily. "Work," he would tell Rebecca. "There’s still a lot to handle before the funeral." His tone sounded tired but believable, and Rebecca, trusting him, didn’t question it.
But he wasn’t always working.
Some evenings, after leaving the office, he met Celia instead.
They sat in quiet restaurants, private lounges, or calm rooftop cafés where no one would disturb them. Their conversations were calm and reflective, mostly about the past, what they used to be, what they once dreamed of, and how life might have turned out if they had never been separated.
Derek spoke little. He mostly listened, caught between guilt, nostalgia, and confusion.
Back at the mansion, Rebecca often sat alone in their room, waiting longer each night. She told herself he was just busy. That everything he was doing was for the funeral, for the family, for responsibility.
Still, a strange unease slowly grew inside her chest, quiet but persistent.
About a week before the funeral, Ryan came to the mansion to pay his respects.
He stepped out of his car and paused for a moment, looking up at the large building. The place felt colder than he remembered. Mr. Hemsworth had always been a strong presence, calm yet intimidating in a way that commanded respect. Ryan knew how much Derek loved his grandfather, and that alone was enough reason for him to be there.
He was still lost in thought when another car pulled into the driveway.
Amelia stepped out gracefully, adjusting her sunglasses before removing them. The moment she looked up, her eyes searched the driveway instinctively, and landed on Ryan.
She froze for a brief second.
Ryan noticed her too, but he quickly looked away as if he hadn’t seen her at all. He straightened his suit and walked toward the entrance without acknowledging her presence, clearly trying to avoid any interaction.
Amelia’s lips pressed together slightly, but she said nothing and followed inside.
Rebecca welcomed them warmly, thanking them sincerely for coming. Derek joined them shortly after, shaking Ryan’s hand firmly and nodding politely at Amelia. They spoke in low voices, exchanging condolences and respectful words.
On the surface, everything seemed calm and appropriate.
But underneath that calm atmosphere, a quiet tension existed between Ryan and Amelia.
Whenever Amelia moved closer, Ryan found a reason to step away. If she spoke to him, he replied politely but briefly. He never allowed the conversation to become personal and never let his gaze rest on her for too long.
Amelia noticed everything.
Eventually, she caught him alone near the garden doors. He stood quietly, staring outside as though lost in thought.
"You’re really good at pretending I don’t exist," she said lightly.
Ryan didn’t turn immediately. When he finally faced her, his expression was calm but distant. "This isn’t the right time, Amelia."
"That’s always your excuse," she replied, folding her arms. "There’s never a right time for you."
"We’re here for Derek. He’s grieving," he said firmly.
"I am here for Derek," she replied, stepping a little closer. "But that doesn’t mean you have to act like I'm invisible."
Ryan exhaled slowly, clearly trying to stay patient. "You shouldn’t do this now."
"I’m not doing anything," she said quietly. "I’m just tired of you acting like there was nothing between us."
For a brief moment, something shifted in his expression, a flicker of emotion that he quickly hid.
"There isn’t," he said softly. "And even if there was, then not anymore."
The words hurt more than she expected.
Amelia forced a small smile and lifted her chin proudly. "Fine. Then you don’t have to keep avoiding me anymore."
She turned and walked away with steady steps, but inside, her thoughts were anything but steady.
I’m done chasing him. I’m done looking foolish. I’m completely done.
She repeated the words in her mind like a promise, yet the ache in her chest refused to disappear.
Ryan watched her walk away, his face unreadable. He remained standing there for a few seconds, then ran a hand over his face as if trying to clear his thoughts before returning to the others.