Chapter 8: Blood on the Bed

Martha’s voice echoed from the doorway. “Are you awake, Ceci? I’ve made your favorite ravioli. Come eat while it’s still hot.”

Cecilia’s memories slowly returned at those words. After leaving Daltonia Villa, she'd visited the hospital for a check-up, intending to see Martha afterward. She tapped her forehead, feeling uneasy. When did my memory become so poor? As she was about to stand, she noticed a large bloodstain on the floral bedsheets. She touched her right ear; it was sticky. Opening her hand, she saw it was covered in blood, her hearing aids stained red. Panic flickered in her eyes as she quickly wiped her ears with paper and hurriedly pulled off the bedsheet.

Noticing Cecilia hadn’t come down, Martha found her washing the duvet cover on the balcony. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“My period came; I accidentally got it on the bed,” Cecilia replied with a laugh.

After washing up, Cecilia joined Martha for breakfast, savoring a moment of tranquility. Sometimes Martha’s voice was clear; other times, faint. Cecilia was terrified, fearing she might never hear it again, afraid of breaking Martha’s heart if she discovered the truth. After spending half a day, Cecilia discreetly left some savings on the bedside table and said goodbye. Martha escorted her to the station, waving goodbye reluctantly, only turning back after Cecilia departed.

On her way home, Martha couldn’t stop thinking of Cecilia’s gaunt figure. She called the Rainsworth Group. The CEO’s secretary, knowing Martha had been Cecilia’s nanny, relayed the message. It was the third day since Cecilia had left, the first time Nathaniel had received a call about her. He sat in his office chair, elated. Just as he’d predicted, Cecilia hadn’t lasted more than three days.

Martha’s weary voice came through the phone. “Mr. Rainsworth, I’ve been Cecilia’s nanny since she was a child,” she pleaded. “Please, show her mercy. Stop hurting her. She isn’t as strong as she seems. Mrs. Smith didn’t want her from birth and left her in my care. She was only taken back when she reached school age… In the Smith family, everyone treated her like a servant, except for Mr. Smith. As a child, she would often secretly call me, crying, saying, ‘Martha, I don’t want to be Ms. Smith anymore. I want to come back, to be your daughter…’ You and Mr. Smith were the only ones she cherished in Tudela. Please, treat her well. She’s lived too humbly her entire life.”

Nathaniel’s mood soured at Martha’s choked words. “What’s the matter? Did shaming her with money not satisfy her? Now she’s playing the victim?” His voice was icy. “What does it matter to me how Cecilia lived! She had it coming!” He hung up. Martha had only ever heard Cecilia praise Nathaniel. She realized he wasn’t good for her, far from the perfect match she’d envisioned.

Cecilia, in her car, received a message from Nathaniel: Didn’t you mention wanting a divorce? Let’s meet at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Cecilia stared at the text, momentarily lost in thought, before replying: Okay.

The single word caught Nathaniel’s eye. Fine! Let’s see how long you can keep this act up, he thought, losing his motivation to work. He went out for drinks. Stella was at the nightclub. “Let’s drink till we drop!” she declared.

Zachary, beside Nathaniel, asked about Cecilia. “How’s the little deaf girl?”

Nathaniel arched his brows. “Don’t mention her. Tomorrow, we’re getting divorced.”

Stella poured him wine. “Nathaniel, here’s to your new life!” Others joined in. The Elite Club was lively; Zachary had reserved all the drinks. Privately, he told Stella, “I can tell Nathaniel still has feelings for you. You must find happiness.”

Stella nodded. “Zachary, thank you. Without your help, I might not have even met him.”

Stella had initially met Nathaniel after receiving financial support from the Smith family. Expressing her gratitude, she met Nathaniel, who was visiting. Four years prior, at a hospital, Nathaniel’s mother, Elena, and Zachary were in an accident. Cecilia had stumbled upon the scene and saved them. Stella had taken credit for Cecilia’s life-saving act. This explained Zachary’s kindness, their relationship evolving from gratitude to friendship, even love. It also explained why, despite many women, Nathaniel chose Stella. This was a secret even Cecilia didn’t know—only Stella did. Cecilia believed Nathaniel chose Stella out of love; everyone assumed Zachary’s affection stemmed from Stella’s charm.

“Why are you being so formal? Aren’t we friends?” Zachary looked at her with affection. Stella pretended not to notice.

That night, Nathaniel drank heavily. Stella offered to take him home. He usually stayed at a hotel, his office, or his mansion. But he remembered Cecilia saying, “Daltonia Villa is our real home.”

“No need. It’s not convenient,” he declined. They were getting divorced tomorrow, and Cecilia might return. Stella felt frustrated. “Why? You’re getting divorced. What’s the inconvenience? Are you afraid she’ll find out about us?”

Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re overthinking it.”

He arranged for Stella’s transport. On the way back, he kept checking his phone, hoping for a text from Cecilia. When he arrived home, the villa was dark. His expression darkened as he opened the door. He turned on the light; Cecilia wasn’t there. She hadn’t returned. Everything remained as she’d left it—his unwashed clothes, still by the washing machine. Frustrated, he threw them in the trash. The alcohol’s effects were strong; he sank onto the couch, uncomfortable. He fell asleep and was haunted by nightmares. In the dream, Cecilia was covered in blood, smiling, saying, “Nathaniel, I don’t love you anymore.”

Nathaniel jolted awake to the first light of dawn. He freshened up, changed into a sharp suit, and headed toward City Hall.