Chapter 11: Give It Back to You
Cecilia felt a warm sensation in her right ear, as if blood were trickling out. Frozen, she couldn't move. Paula watched her daughter, so frail and helpless, and felt a profound sadness—not for Cecilia, but for herself. She picked up the documents from the coffee table and handed them to Cecilia. “Take a good look,” she said. “This is the choice I've made for you.”
Cecilia took the documents and read the bold title: Prenuptial Agreement. She opened it and skimmed the contents: Ms. Cecilia Smith shall willingly marry Mr. Randy Larke, promising to care for him until old age, never to leave his side. Mr. Larke will ensure the well-being of Ms. Cecilia Smith’s family by providing three hundred million in funds to the Smith family… Randy Larke was a seventy-eight-year-old entrepreneur from Tudela. A string in Cecilia’s mind felt taut, ready to snap. Paula continued, “Mr. Larke doesn't mind this being your second marriage. As long as you marry him, he will help the Smith family rise again.”
Paula’s hopeful gaze fixed on Cecilia as she stepped forward, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t let me and your brother down, would you?” Cecilia’s face paled. She clenched the agreement. “Nathaniel and I aren’t fully divorced yet,” she replied. Paula dismissed the concern. “Mr. Larke suggested you could have the wedding ceremony first and register it afterward,” she said. “Besides, Nathaniel doesn’t love you. I respect your decision to divorce him.”
Realizing she couldn't salvage Cecilia’s marriage to Nathaniel, Paula had followed her son's advice—while her daughter was young, she would maximize her worth. Cecilia felt her throat constrict. “May I ask you something?” she paused. “Am I really your biological daughter?” Paula’s expression hardened. Her pleasant demeanor vanished as she chided Cecilia. “Had I not given birth to you, do you think my figure would have changed? That I would have fallen from my pedestal as a world-renowned dancer? You truly disappoint me!” Growing up, Cecilia had never understood why other mothers loved their children unconditionally. Her own mother wouldn't spare her a shred of love. Even now, she didn't understand. But she had accepted one thing—she no longer yearned for their love. She carefully placed the contract aside. “I can’t agree to this,” she said.
Paula hadn’t expected her refusal and was furious. “How dare you reject me? Your life—I gave it to you! Do what I tell you!” Cecilia looked at her directly. “So, if I give my life back to you, does that mean I don’t owe you anything anymore?” Paula was taken aback. “What did you say?” Cecilia’s pale lips parted. “If I were to return my life to you, would you cease to be my mother? Would I no longer owe you the debt of my birth?” Paula scoffed. “Fine. Return your life to me, and I won’t force you! But do you dare?” Cecilia seemed resolute. “Give me one month,” she requested. Paula felt she was losing her mind. She pushed the agreement back. “If you’re too scared to die, then sign your name.”
She stormed out in her high heels. Magnus waited at the door, having overheard. “Mom, she’s not going to kill herself, is she?” he asked. Paula remained indifferent. “If she dares to die, I’ll give her credit for that! After all, she was raised by a nanny, not me. We’ve never been close. I’ve never really considered her my daughter.”
They hadn’t gone far when Cecilia heard every word. She rubbed her aching ears, wishing for deafness. Alone, she felt her life a complete failure—as if she had never truly lived for herself. Suffocated, she craved an outlet. That evening, she went to a bar. Seated in a corner, she nursed her drink, her gaze lost in the crowd. A man with striking eyes and handsome features noticed her and approached. “Are you Cecilia?” Cecilia looked at him, uncomprehending. Compelled, she asked, “Do you know what it takes to be happy?” The man was puzzled. “What are you saying?” Cecilia took another sip. “The doctor said I’m sick and need to cheer up, but… I can’t find happiness.”
The man, Calvin Reese, felt a pang of bitterness. Does she not remember me? What illness requires cheering up? “Miss, if you’re seeking joy, this isn’t the place,” he advised. “Let me take you home.”
Cecilia smiled. “You’re a good person.”
Calvin watched her bitter smile. What has she been through? Why does she look so sad? Across the bar, Nathaniel was also present. Since filing for divorce, he’d been drinking nightly, avoiding his routines. It had been a while since he’d returned to Daltonia Villa. As the night ended, Stella noticed Cecilia. “Isn’t that Ms. Smith?” she exclaimed. Nathaniel saw a man talking to Cecilia. His expression darkened. She’s drowning her sorrows and picking up men? I overestimated her. Who declared they’d only ever love me? “Do you want to confront her?” Stella asked. “No need,” Nathaniel replied coldly, walking away.
Cecilia declined Calvin’s offer. “I can manage,” she said. “No need to trouble yourself.”
Uneasy, Calvin watched her leave, keeping his distance. Nathaniel sat alone in his car, unbuttoning his shirt, still frustrated. Halfway home, he turned back. He crossed paths with Cecilia again. He stopped the car and approached her. “Cecilia.”
The familiar voice startled her. She looked up, feeling as though she were dreaming. “Natha—” “Mr. Rainsworth,” she corrected. Nathaniel was surprised to see Cecilia wearing makeup. After their marriage, she’d never worn any. He’d forgotten he’d disliked it. “Do you know what you look like?” he asked, his lips barely parting. Cecilia seemed lost in thought. “You look like a ghost,” he said bluntly. “Who would like a woman like you?” Cecilia’s voice was hoarse. “I know no one likes me. I’m not expecting anyone to…” A heavy feeling settled in Nathaniel’s chest. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be on my way,” Cecilia said, walking away. Nathaniel wanted to ask about the man, but the words caught in his throat. We’re divorcing—there’s no need. Cecilia continued home alone, the weight of the day pressing down on her.