When Her "Death" Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel)

Chapter 2041

She ended the call, already turning on her heel to tell Charlotte.

The moment she pivoted, she collided chest-first with Nathaniel, who had just stepped into the corridor. His hands flashed up, steadying her before either of them could gasp.

"Easy." His brow furrowed as he searched her startled face. "Who were you talking to? You look like the building's on fire."

"No one important," she said, brushing past him. "I need to see Charlotte."

She hurried down the hall, skirt whispering around her knees. Charlotte was alone, and Sven's disappearance had left her friend in a knot of panic.

Nathaniel watched her retreat, then noticed her phone abandoned on the coffee table. With a small shake of his head, he scooped it up and followed, intent on returning it before she reached the courtyard.

The handset chimed in Nathaniel's palm.

A new message from Calvin lit the screen: "Ceci, take good care of yourself. If anything troubles you, especially if Nathaniel treats you poorly, you must tell me. I will always be your strongest shield."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, storm-grey and unreadable. He attempted to unlock the phone, only to find the passcode had changed. After a tense beat, he exhaled, locked the screen again, and started toward the garden path, her phone still warm in his hand.

nerves when she spotted Nathaniel

the

He extended it to

then did she realize she had left it behind in her

Nathaniel's voice cut gently across the space between them. "Calvin messaged you a moment ago. I glanced at

say?" Cecilia asked, accepting the device while curiosity—and a faint unease-tightened

for yourself," he said, each word clipped, as though

of the ice

glowing screen. One swipe revealed Calving neatly typed concem, its politeness

against the dark mode

s

good care

again. Nathaniel's jaw had turned to granite. Grinning, she reached up and gave his

the matter

a fraction, gaze fixed

the last three words the way one might coax a

one hand, the pad of his index finger brushing the velvet