Chapter 2173

Cecilia learned about the arrest from Norman, the news hitting her like a shock of ice water.

For now, posting bail was impossible.

“Mr. Jenkins, please look into this,” Cecilia said, her voice steady but tight. “Charlotte never hurt Felix.”

Norman shifted the briefcase at his side, straightened his tie, and met her gaze with composed assurance. “Ceci, don’t worry. I’ll dig until every piece of evidence is out in the open. You have my word.”

Cecilia lowered her head in quiet gratitude. “Mm.”

Yet even after that small nod, unease pressed heavily against her chest.

She knew all too well how ruthless Miranda could be. Given the slightest opening, that woman would pursue Charlotte without mercy.

Before long, Cecilia went to see Charlotte herself.

Charlotte, however, looked remarkably unconcerned. “Boss, don’t worry about me. Two days in here is nothing. I’m tougher than I look.”

Cecilia swallowed the truth she couldn’t bring herself to say.

According to the medical report Miranda had arranged, Charlotte could be facing at least six months behind bars.

“Mm. No matter what, I’ll do everything I can to get you out,” Cecilia said, her words clipped with resolve.

Charlotte nodded, then hesitated. “Oh—one more thing. Please don’t tell Sven about this, Boss.”

“Why not?”

Charlotte shook her head. “He’s already swamped. I don’t want him worrying about me or carrying extra stress. Promise me.”

Cecilia let out a slow breath and gave in. “All right. I won’t say a word.”

Charlotte’s smile softened. “Thank you, Boss. I keep causing you trouble.”

Cecilia rested her hand against the glass partition, forcing a smile of her own. “Don’t be ridiculous. After everything we’ve been through, you’re hardly a burden.”

When the guard announced the end of visiting hours, Cecilia lingered, reluctant to turn away.

“Wait for me,” she whispered into the receiver.

Charlotte nodded once more. There was no fear in her eyes—only unwavering trust in Cecilia.

That trust weighed heavily as Cecilia stepped into the corridor and listened to the doors lock behind her.

She hadn’t gone far when two figures emerged beneath a streetlamp, the light tracing silver edges along their coats.

Nathaniel led the way, every step deliberate. Beside him walked Ernest Jaeger, his suit immaculate, a leather briefcase tucked under his arm, hair slicked neatly into place.

Ernest—Vivian’s first love—had been working under Nathaniel all along.

When Vivian married two years earlier, Ernest had quietly requested a transfer out of Tudela, choosing a position at one of the branch companies.

This was the first time Cecilia had seen him since then. The bright-eyed prodigy was gone. In his place stood a man worn down by time, shoulders slumped, eyes carrying a slow, private ache.

Cecilia’s pulse quickened. Why were both of them here?

“Jennifer was already critically ill,” Nathaniel said quietly, regret threading his voice. “She ignored every doctor’s warning just to carry the baby to term. The child was born healthy, but she hemorrhaged afterward. They couldn’t save her.”

Cecilia listened, emotions churning until none of them settled long enough to be named.

Oh… no wonder Ernest looked like a man carved out of grief—hollow, solitary, and haunted.

Moments later, the two stopped directly in front of her, the cold glow of the streetlamp falling over them like a spotlight.

Nathaniel spoke with calm authority. “Is Charlotte’s situation taken care of?”

Startled that he already knew, Cecilia shook her head. “Not yet.”

Ernest stepped forward. His eyes cleared with quiet resolve, as if he had finally found something worth fighting for.

“I’ll bail her out,” he said, his voice low, sharp, and unyielding.

Cecilia wanted to tell him that Norman had already tried and failed, but the warning never left her lips. Ernest’s long strides ate up the distance, and in seconds, he disappeared past the security doors.

Cecilia stepped aside without stopping him, silently praying he might find a way to pull Charlotte out of the jaws of jail.

When his figure vanished, she turned to Nathaniel, worry creasing her brow. “Why did he come back all of a sudden?”

A bitter winter gust swept along the concrete walls. Nathaniel took her hand, tucked it into the warmth of his coat pocket, and shielded it as though it were the last flame against the cold.

“His wife, Jennifer Hughes, passed away,” Nathaniel said, each word falling like frost. “That’s why he returned.”

Cecilia froze. “Passed away? How did that happen?”