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Novel Catalog
Chapter 31 She Was Absolutely Not Dead.
Nathaniel hadn’t finished explaining when suddenly, an elderly man, bloodied and bruised, was thrown into the room by the bodyguards. Zachary recognized him instantly—Randy Larke. Just two days ago, Nathaniel had dispatched his men to track down Paula and Magnus, who had gone into hiding overseas. It was then that he learned the truth: Cecilia had been meant to marry Randy, not Calvin. Enraged, Nathaniel had ordered the old man to be captured. Despite being subjected to hours of pain, Randy had no information on Cecilia’s whereabouts.
Nathaniel’s gaze, cold and penetrating, locked onto him. “Do you still want to marry Cecilia?”
Randy, supporting his broken body, immediately dropped to his knees, shaking in fear. “No, no, I dare not… I won’t do it again.”
He was dragged away without ceremony, the inevitability of his fate clear for all to see. Nathaniel, his expression unreadable, turned his attention to Zachary. “Were you speaking on Cecilia’s behalf just now?” he asked quietly.
Zachary’s throat tightened. He had no response. Finally, he managed, “I just feel there’s no need to constantly target her.”
Nathaniel’s fingers, still gripping the pen, tightened in anger, causing the veins on the back of his hand to bulge. “She was the one who targeted me first,” he said, his voice cold as ice.
With that, he stood up abruptly. “Zach, you don’t really believe she’s dead, do you? Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘A calamity leaves its mark for a thousand years’? A person like her won’t die!”
His voice wavered, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. Just then, Nathaniel’s phone alarm went off, signaling the end of the workday. Without another word, he left Zachary alone in the room.
The office, once filled with the buzz of work, now felt eerily empty. Zachary, lost in his thoughts, clenched the emerald pendant in his hand so tightly that his palm bled. After a long moment, he released his grip and made his way outside. He saw Randy, barely alive, lying abandoned on the side of the road. Without hesitation, he gave a cold command. “Take him back.”
At Daltonia Villa, the atmosphere was heavy with silence. A red suitcase sat in the corner of the living room, its bright color stark against the otherwise muted surroundings. Nathaniel had just returned home, and it felt both familiar and strange at once. Sitting on the couch that Cecilia once frequented, he couldn’t help but reflect on the emptiness of the space.
After what felt like an eternity, his gaze fell on the suitcase Zachary had sent. It contained Cecilia’s belongings. He had yet to open it. The combination to the suitcase was painfully simple—it was his birthday. Cecilia had always been meticulous, setting his birthday as the security code for the entire villa.
Inside the suitcase were everyday items and simple clothing. It seemed too plain, too ordinary to belong to a woman. Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to go through her things. Instead, he closed the suitcase, leaving it untouched.
He didn’t even bother to eat dinner. Instead, he headed straight for the bedroom—once shared by the two of them. His eyes immediately fell on the urn containing Cecilia’s ashes, the black-and-white photo beside it. The sight of it felt suffocating. Though the DNA testing had been inconclusive after the cremation, Nathaniel refused to accept that Cecilia was truly gone.
No. She couldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t die. She couldn’t possibly, especially not when she was so terrified of pain.
He was certain that Cecilia hadn’t died by her own hand. She had simply wanted to deceive him, to escape and be with Calvin. He had even looked into Calvin’s background—unmarried, living a solitary life. In Cecilia’s eyes, he was her prince charming, her childhood sweetheart.
Nathaniel spent the night wrestling with his thoughts, unable to find peace.
The following morning, he woke early. His assistant delivered his breakfast shortly after he finished freshening up. At first, he didn’t notice any difference in his routine. But gradually, the changes began to hit him. There was a set of dinnerware missing from the table. An additional photo had appeared at home. And worst of all, when he didn’t come home on time, there were no longer any persistent texts urging him to return.
The house, which used to be brightly lit and welcoming, was now always in darkness when he arrived. He couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, but one thing was certain—he now returned to an empty home, a place that no longer felt like his own.
