Chapter 2189

Elena’s patience snapped. “Enough. What happened—spit it out.”

Another second of Wren’s hesitation, and she felt she might physically shake the answer from him.

“Nicholas’s condition has worsened,” Wren said at last, the words heavy and reluctant. “No matter how much I plead, he refuses further treatment.”

Alarm flashed through Elena’s dark eyes like a storm breaking over open ground.

“I thought he’d stabilized. A relapse—when did this start?”

“Late last night. I wouldn’t have known if the hospital hadn’t called.”

For more than a year, Nicholas’s health had wavered, requiring frequent hospital evaluations—each one arranged only because Elena insisted. Left to himself, he pretended invincible, treating his body like something borrowed and disposable.

“Ceci, stay here with the children. I’m going to see Nicholas,” Elena said, already moving.

“Of course,” Cecilia replied, nodding decisively, though unease flickered beneath her calm.

Elena didn’t bother changing. She grabbed her coat, seized Wren by the sleeve, and dragged him toward the door in a rush of urgency.

“Something this serious, and you wait until now to tell me?” she hissed as their footsteps echoed down the hall.

“You’re the one who reminded me we’re divorced,” Wren snapped back. “You said not to bother you unless it was business.”

Their argument faded as the house swallowed them whole.

Cecilia remained in the doorway, arms folded tightly as the evening air crept in around her ankles.

Nathaniel returned late. The moment he stepped inside, Cecilia told him everything she knew about Nicholas’s sudden decline.

“I understand,” Nathaniel said, calm but clearly unsettled. “I’ll have someone check his status immediately.”

Nicholas was his brother. Concern needed no explanation.

“You should go yourself,” Cecilia urged quietly. “Just in case.”

Nathaniel nodded, already calculating. He barely paused before turning and heading straight back into the night—toward the hospital.

Nicholas sat hunched on the hospital bed, all sharp angles and shadows, his eyes dulled.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he muttered, the words barely holding together on thin breath.

Elena’s reply came raw and strained. “Look at you—you’re skin and bones. Why did you drink again?” Her voice rasped, every word fraying at the edges.

She had people watching him, yet somehow he’d slipped through. “Who gave you alcohol?”

Nicholas closed his eyes, shutting out the harsh hospital lights. A long breath slipped from his chest, as though even the air weighed too much.

“Mom, if you really want what’s best for me, stop hovering,” he said quietly. “Otherwise, I can’t promise I won’t decide to leave this world the next second.”

Tears welled in Elena’s eyes before she could stop them. “How dare you say that to me? I carried you for nine months—nearly died bringing you into this world. How could you say something like that?”

At that moment, Nathaniel stepped into the room, his presence cutting the air cold as he caught the end of the exchange.

“Elena, don’t bother pleading,” he said evenly. “From now on, let him fend for himself.”

Nicholas had always believed their parents favored Nathaniel. Yet Nathaniel remembered every moment that proved otherwise.

When scandal once engulfed him, Elena had handed the Rainsworth Group to Nicholas without hesitation—leaving Nathaniel behind, entrusted to Cecilia instead.

Now that Nicholas was ill, Elena barely left his side.

“Nathaniel,” Elena said, desperation softening her voice, “talk to your brother. No matter what, he’s still family.”

Nathaniel stepped closer, taking in the gray pallor, the stubble, the hollow gaze. His brow tightened.

“If this is how you plan to live,” he said flatly, “dying might be simpler.”

Elena shot him a glare sharp enough to cut. “What are you saying? I asked you to talk sense into him.”

Wren cleared his throat, forcing a weak smile. “He’s just trying to lighten the mood.”

Nathaniel’s voice finally drew Nicholas’s eyes open. He said nothing, but something unreadable flickered behind his gaze as it locked onto his brother.

Nathaniel turned sharply toward the nurses’ station. “Prepare his discharge papers. He’s leaving today.”

Elena and Wren froze, stunned as if the floor had shifted beneath them.

“Nathaniel, what are you doing?” Elena asked, her voice cracking like thin ice.

He faced them, his tone low and unwavering. “He’s not a child anymore. It’s time he stops being treated like one.”