Chapter 2218
Cecilia’s chest rose and fell violently as she dragged in air.
The room felt smaller than before. The walls closer. The air thinner.
Nicholas wiped the blood from his neck with the back of his hand and looked at it almost thoughtfully. A thin red line marked where the glass had cut him. It should have angered him more.
Instead, his lips curved.
“You really would hurt me,” he murmured.
Cecilia didn’t answer. She stood rigid, robe clutched tightly around herself, broken glass now lying forgotten on the floor between them.
Nicholas stepped toward her again—but slower this time.
“Why scream for Calvin?” he asked softly. “You think he can protect you?”
Cecilia’s fingers curled into her sleeves. “At least he’s not pretending to love me while forcing me into a corner.”
For a brief second, something flickered across Nicholas’s face—irritation, perhaps even hurt—but it vanished just as quickly.
“I’m not pretending,” he said. “I’ve wanted you for years. Even when you chose my brother.”
The mention of Nathaniel made Cecilia’s stomach twist.
“You lost the right to say that the moment you decided to trap me,” she replied coldly.
Nicholas’s eyes darkened.
“You think I don’t know you’re stalling?” he said. “You’re waiting for another chance to run.”
Silence.
Because he was right.
He gave a humorless laugh. “You always underestimate how well I understand you.”
He turned slightly, blocking the path to the door with his body without making it obvious.
Cecilia noticed.
Her mind raced.
If shouting didn’t work and fighting didn’t work… then she needed time.
She lowered her gaze deliberately.
“You’re bleeding,” she said quietly.
Nicholas paused.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she insisted, forcing steadiness into her voice. “It’s still dripping.”
A thin line of blood had indeed reached his collar.
“If someone sees you like that, what will you say?” she added. “That I attacked you?”
Nicholas studied her.
“You’re worried about my reputation now?”
“I’m worried about mine,” she shot back.
That earned the faintest smirk.
He reached for a handkerchief on the table and pressed it against his neck.
The movement created a sliver of distance between them.
Cecilia took exactly one careful step sideways.
Nicholas noticed immediately.
“Don’t,” he warned.
She stopped.
Not because she wanted to—
But because she knew pushing him further would snap whatever thin restraint remained.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Another knock.
This time firmer.
“Nicholas?” Calvin’s voice was sharper now. “I know you’re in there.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened.
Cecilia’s pulse leapt.
Nicholas turned his head slightly toward the door, calculating.
Calvin wasn’t someone he could easily brush off without explanation.
Cecilia seized the tension in the air.
She straightened and spoke clearly, though her voice trembled just enough to sound natural.
“We’re fine,” she called out. “I dropped a bottle earlier.”
There was a pause outside.
Then Calvin replied slowly, “Open the door.”
Nicholas’s eyes snapped back to hers.
She met his gaze without blinking.
If he refused, suspicion would only grow.
If he opened it—
At least she wouldn’t be alone.
Nicholas exhaled through his nose.
For the first time that night, uncertainty crossed his face.
He stepped toward the door.
But before turning the handle, he leaned close to Cecilia, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“Remember,” he said quietly, “I can be patient. Don’t force me not to be.”
Then he opened the door.
Calvin stood outside, eyes immediately scanning the room.
His gaze landed on the broken glass.
Then on the blood at Nicholas’s neck.
Then finally on Cecilia, pale and wrapped tightly in her robe.
The air shifted.
“What happened?” Calvin asked, voice no longer casual.
Cecilia’s heart hammered.
Nicholas answered first.
“She slipped,” he said smoothly. “Tried to clean up the glass and cut me instead.”
Calvin didn’t look convinced.
His eyes lingered on Cecilia.
She held his gaze.
For a fraction of a second—
Just long enough—
Her silence spoke louder than any scream.