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

Elena shrugged, rose, and moved toward the door. "Suit yourself." Her heels clicked away, leaving Wren alone with the low hum of the television and a silence thick enough to drown in.

He called after her, the words escaping before he could rein them in. "About the boys... I know you carried the burden alone, and it shouldn't have fallen all on you."

Back then, Wren had barely lifted a finger with the children. A full-time nanny, he reasoned, meant parenting was effortless.

Now the boys towered above his shoulder, yet they still kept him up at night. Only now did he grasp how brutal motherhood could be.

Elena paused, spine straight, but never turned. She strode on.

Outside, the winter wind carved at her face like glass shards. Every gust howled across the courtyard's empty flagstones.

The butler scrambled behind her, umbrella snapping open, trying to shield her from the icy blade of air.

"It's only wind," she said, flicking her wrist dismissively.

The butler lowered the umbrella, uncertain.

Elena let the gale slash her skin until numbness turned to a strange, welcome calm.

For years, she had bent over backward inside the Rainsworth household; no acknowledgment came from in- laws, from staff, not even from her own husband.

Wren seemed different now, yes, but the revelation arrived far too late to matter.

to sink; by dawn, every major feed screamed the headline. Viewers blinked,

She merely wished Nicholas might still stumble into real

piece was in a car crash at dawn— rushed into surgery. No clue if

Cecilia, her breath

shrug, whispering, "Life flips without warning,

pressing

lip. "Boss, has Sven texted or

fret, Lottie. Calvin said Sven is safe, so safe he must be.

flash of disappointment crossed Charlotte's eyes, disappearing

nodded hard. "Got

phone trilled, slicing the

glanced at the screen; her expression lit up like sunrise as she stabbed the

"Boss—it's Sven!"

ear, Charlotte hurried toward

her disappear, Cecilia's heart lifted in quiet

voice trembled across the

the receiver-low, familiar, yet bearing a new tempered warmth. know these past weeks musthave left you sick

her composure fray. Tears stung her lashes, hot and

from you now?" Her words scraped out, thick

you through

the said