Chapter 5 Divorce

"Since you've gone to such lengths, I'll give you what you want," Rufus said, his voice low and edged with steel.

He seized Cecilia's wrists, the grip unyielding, and stripped away her clothes with a force that left no room for refusal.

His cold, unrelenting mouth claimed hers, dominance radiating from every movement.

Every word of protest, every plea, lodged in Cecilia's throat, choked off before they could escape.

If Rufus had looked closely at her face in that moment, he would have seen the despair and grief burning in her eyes. But he didn't. In his mind, it was nothing more than another calculated game of seduction.

This time, however, Cecilia truly wanted no contact with him. The violence of the previous night still lingered in her body—her vagina throbbed with a dull ache, her stomach roiled, and a metallic tang of blood seeped into her throat.

Her mind and body both recoiled from him.

She steeled herself and bit down on Rufus's lips, hard enough to draw a sharp intake of breath.

In that instant of distraction, she tried to shove him away, her hands trembling. In the struggle, her palm connected with his cheek in a clean, ringing slap.

Five stark fingerprints bloomed on his skin, his head snapping to the side. For a long moment, he didn't move.

Rufus Chapman—wherever he went, the world bent to him. He had never been treated like this.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to," Cecilia said as soon as she was free, backing away, arms folded tightly across her chest in a defensive shield. Her voice broke as she tried to apologize.

Rufus's tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, and then he let out a low, humorless chuckle.

"You've grown bold."

The words carried no clear emotion, but paired with the shadow in his eyes, they pressed down on her like a weight.

Cecilia braced herself for a harsher retaliation, but instead, her defiance seemed to drain the fire from him. In his mind, forcing a woman was beneath him.

He didn't even mention the slap. Instead, he said, "Focus on getting better," and walked out of the room.

She didn't have to guess where he was going—he would be visiting Blair.

Two young nurses passed the doorway just as Rufus left. One, wearing a hair clip, whispered with a hint of gossip, "That's the aristocrat the head nurse mentioned, right? He's so young and handsome… if he looked at me, I'd probably faint!"

The other rolled her eyes. "Honestly. You should focus on your shift instead of dreaming like that. He's married! His wife's in the VIP suite upstairs, and the director himself greeted them."

The nurse with the hair clip scoffed. "So what if he's married? Families like his are usually tied together by arrangements, not love."

Her friend laughed, tapping her lightly on the temple. "You have no idea. Mr. Chapman visits his wife's room every single day. That's not just love—that's devotion. The staff in the VIP suite say he dotes on her."

Cecilia didn't hear the rest. She shut the door.

To outsiders, Blair and Rufus were the perfect couple.

And why wouldn't they think that? Rufus's open favoritism left little room for doubt.

Cecilia leaned against the door, her body sliding down until she sat on the floor. She had promised herself she wouldn't let Rufus hurt her anymore, yet hearing those words still made her chest ache.

That night, she went to bed early, but a fit of coughing woke her in the darkness.

The coughs deepened, and suddenly a wave of metallic sweetness surged up her throat. Before she could react, blood sprayed from her mouth, splattering across her face.

When Rufus opened the door, the sight froze him in place.

Seeing him, Cecilia instinctively tried to wipe the blood from her face. She didn't want him to see her like this—broken, vulnerable.

But the more she wiped, the more blood came. She could feel her life draining away.

"What's wrong with you?" Rufus leaned against the doorframe, brows drawn tight, but didn't step closer.

It took her a long moment to catch her breath. She wiped her mouth once more and said, "I told you… I'm dying, Rufus. You and Blair won't have to hate me anymore.

"There will be no one left standing between you."

Rufus stared at her, thrown off balance.

Her words, paired with the blood-streaked face, made it easy to believe she might die at any second.

For a heartbeat, he almost believed her. Almost.

Then his eyes cooled, the corners of his mouth twisting into something cruel. "I told you—don't try to use this to avoid the trials. You owe Blair, and you'll repay her, no matter what."

He added coldly, "You should be grateful you're still useful."

Cecilia shook her head.

"Rufus." She looked at him as if seeing a stranger.

Perhaps she had never truly known him, even after all the times they had been together. She had never understood the chill and malice at his core.

He had tenderness in him, but it was reserved entirely for Blair. No one else ever saw it.

Meeting his puzzled gaze, Cecilia closed her eyes, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "Let's get a divorce."

It was a long moment before Rufus reacted, as if the words had taken time to register. "What did you just say?"

She opened her eyes, meeting his with a resolve that cut through the air. "If you agree to divorce, I'll accept any condition."

She was tired—too tired to leave this world still tethered to Rufus or Blair.

In her mind, divorce was the only choice that could satisfy everyone.

But Rufus refused.

"Don't even think about it," he said, each word forced through clenched teeth.

"Why?" Her voice was raw with pain.

She couldn't understand why, after everything, he still wouldn't let her go. He had accused her of taking Blair's place—wasn't she giving it back now?

Even Rufus couldn't explain his reflexive rejection. Maybe it was the outrage of hearing such final words from someone who had always begged for his scraps of affection. Or maybe it was the unsettling loss of control her defiance had triggered.

Whatever the reason, he had no intention of letting her go. Not yet.