Chapter 330: The Rift Widens
The two sat across from each other, the atmosphere thick with tension. Nathaniel broke the silence, his voice laced with frustration. “Why can’t you hear me? Why didn’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Cecilia kept her head down, her eyes clouded with confusion. “I thought it would get better once I got home,” she murmured.
Nathaniel raised a hand, intending to touch her, but Cecilia deftly avoided him. His hand froze, his expression hardening. “Who were you with today, Ceci?”
Startled, Cecilia looked up. “Did you send someone to follow me again?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. This was precisely the sort of thing Nathaniel had done before his memory loss, and she wouldn't let it slide.
Nathaniel’s throat tightened; confusion flickered across his face. “What do you mean ‘again’? When did I ever send someone to follow you?”
Before he could clarify, Martha’s door swung open, and the doctors emerged. They explained the elderly woman had experienced a fit of rage, causing distress, but reassured them there was no immediate danger. The doctor stressed the importance of maintaining peace and calm during her recovery.
Mason, standing nearby, glanced at Cecilia. He recalled the afternoon's events and remained silent, wary of provoking Nathaniel further.
“Mr. Rainsworth, we’re leaving now,” Mason said neutrally.
“Sure,” Nathaniel replied, his attention briefly diverted as Mason and his colleagues departed, leaving the room quiet.
Only Cecilia and Nathaniel remained. “Thank you for bringing me home today, and for getting a doctor for Martha,” Cecilia said, maintaining a polite distance. The issue of surveillance remained a bitter aftertaste, separate from the present conflict.
“We’re husband and wife; there’s no need for thanks,” Nathaniel stated firmly. He reached out, grasping Cecilia’s elbow. “And I’ve never had anyone follow you!”
But Cecilia remained skeptical. She had seen this behavior before. “The New Year is only a month away,” she began, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Let’s get you back to Daltonia Villa tomorrow.” It was a statement, not a question.
Nathaniel tightened his grip, a sharp pain in his chest. “And what about you?”
“I have to take care of Martha,” Cecilia replied distantly.
Nathaniel felt a pang of anguish, but couldn't suppress the gnawing question. “Ceci, did you marry me because you loved me?”
In his memories, she had loved him deeply, unable to bear causing him pain. But now, her silence spoke volumes. Cecilia had initially believed she loved Nathaniel, but ultimately realized she'd been infatuated with the wrong man.
The silence was unbearable. Finally, with desperation, Nathaniel pulled Cecilia into his arms. “Are you sending me back because of Calvin?” His voice was hoarse, the fear of losing her palpable. No man had ever dared to so blatantly steal his woman.
“No, it’s just that I’ve always felt we were destined to part ways someday. The sooner, the better,” Cecilia said, her voice steady, her heart heavy. She tried to explain. “Nathaniel, the truth is, you never really cared for me. Before you lost your memory, you didn’t love me at all. Once you regain your memory, you’ll surely find everything distasteful.”
Nathaniel found her words almost amusing. He might not remember the past, but he felt the depth of his emotions for her. If I hadn’t loved Cecilia, why is she the only person I remember after losing my memory? If I didn’t love her, why did I choose to stay by her side? If I didn’t love her, how could I have indulged her so often?
“In that case, let’s revisit this once my memory returns,” Nathaniel said resolutely. He had no intention of leaving her, and realizing she couldn't force him out, Cecilia knew she would have to proceed gradually.
After a restless night, Cecilia was awakened by her ringing phone. A voice that haunted her nightmares filled the speaker.
“Ceci.”
It was her biological mother, Paula.
Cecilia’s heart tightened, though her face remained calm. “Madam Paula, is there something you need?” she asked neutrally.
Paula’s teeth gritted in frustration at the formal address. “You’ve pocketed the eight billion your father left behind. It’s time it returned to its rightful owner. Norman has already been arrested.”
“Listen to me, I’m your mother,” Paula continued, her voice dripping with false concern. “Turn yourself in. Your brother and I can still find a way to help you.”