Chapter 10 Misunderstanding

Truth be told, Cecilia had never imagined that swallowing her pride would earn her nothing but Rufus's contempt.

She stayed silent until he walked out of the room.

Only then did she finally understand—even if she had shattered herself right in front of someone who cared nothing for her, they would still have thought she was putting on an act.

Years together, and Rufus should have been the one who knew her best. Yet he chose to twist her words, shattering every scrap of hope she had left.

But life didn't pause for heartbreak.

Cecilia dialed a number she hadn't called in years. The line rang three seconds before a warm male voice answered.

"What's wrong, Cecilia?" Leroy's tone was gentle, like sunlight breaking through clouds. Her restless thoughts eased, if only a little.

The tension in her chest loosened. "Leroy, I need you to help me sell the paintings my mother left behind."

"What happened?" Leroy Hamilton's voice sharpened.

He knew those paintings weren't just art—they were heirlooms with history. If Cecilia was willing to part with them, she must have reached a point of desperation.

She didn't elaborate, only asked him to grant her this favor.

There was a long pause. Then Leroy said, "I'll do it. But in return, I need you to agree to one thing."

It wasn't an unreasonable request, and she agreed without hesitation. She'd already done the math—selling the paintings, giving Leroy twenty percent, and the rest would cover Patrick's medical bills for a long time.

But Leroy didn't want money. "Where are you right now, Cecilia? I want to see you."

At the hospital, Leroy froze when he saw her. Last time they'd met, she was in a graduation gown, her face lit with confidence and dreams. Now she looked fragile, swallowed by the loose folds of a hospital gown. Her eyes... empty.

She forced a smile. "Thank you, Leroy. For still coming to see me."

He set the flowers on her bedside table, then sat across from her. "What happened after graduation? What illness is this? Tell me how I can help."

Cecilia only shook her head with a faint smile.

"There's nothing else you can do. Just this one thing." She handed him a folded note. "When the paintings are sold, take your share and send the rest to this account."

She should have handled the sale herself, but with her health, she wasn't sure she'd last long enough. Better to make arrangements now.

Leroy nodded. "I'll help you. I wouldn't be here otherwise. But I'm not taking a commission. I just need you to tell me the truth."

His insistence caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to reply—but suddenly her nose burned, and blood poured out, hot and unstoppable.

She stared at the crimson staining her hands and sheets, her mind blank.

Leroy moved instantly, lifting her upright and pressing a warm, damp cloth to the back of her neck. Then he hit the call button on the wall.

Half an hour later, the room was calm again. Fresh linens on the bed, Cecilia in the shower. Leroy stood outside, arms folded, guarding the door.

That was when Rufus walked in. His eyes landed on Leroy sitting in the chair.

Thinking Cecilia had come out of the bathroom, Leroy spoke without looking up, slicing an apple in his hand. "Sit here for a minute, Cecilia. I'll dry your hair."

"Who are you?" Rufus's voice was cold, cutting through the air.

Cecilia stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling around her. Rufus's gaze flicked between them, then he let out a sharp laugh. "Looks like I came at the wrong time."

She knew that tone—it dripped with accusation. She didn't care if he misunderstood her, but she wouldn't let Leroy get dragged into it.

"You've got it wrong. He was a year ahead of me at university, Leroy Hamilton," she said quickly. Then she turned to Leroy, introducing Rufus. "This is Rufus Chapman."

Rufus's eyes narrowed. "Why not tell him I'm your husband?"

He'd always avoided acknowledging their marriage, yet today he brought it up himself.

When she didn't answer, Rufus pulled her into his arms. "What's wrong? Did I say something untrue, Cecilia?" His voice was low, mimicking Leroy's earlier tone.

Realizing he'd misunderstood, Leroy tried to explain. "Mr. Chapman, I think you're mistaken. Cecilia and I—"

Rufus cut him off, his words sharp. "I'm talking to my wife. What business is it of yours?"

He pressed his tongue to his cheek, irritation simmering. His grip tightened on Cecilia's wrist. "You that desperate for a man? Picking up lovers in hospitals?"

He leaned close, his voice for her ears alone. "What's the matter? Am I not enough? Should I remind you who was crying and begging in bed?"

The words were filthy, especially with someone else in the room. Cecilia's face darkened. She raised her hand to strike him, but he caught her wrist easily.

"I've already felt what it's like to be slapped in the face, and I don't like it. Don't do it again."

He shot Leroy a final warning. "I don't care what you are to her. This is the first time I've caught you together, and I hope it's the last. You know what I'm capable of."

Cecilia didn't understand him. He acted like he despised her, yet his possessiveness was vicious. Maybe it was pride—Rufus didn't want a woman he'd slept with to be touched by anyone else.

But she was exhausted. Tired of being disrespected, degraded.

She was about to speak when Gia burst in, breathless. "Ms. Ember just collapsed!"