Chapter 147 Cecily Has a Terminal Illness?
If he expected her to apologize, he might as well give up that hope. Cecily would definitely not apologize to Ophelia.
"No, Miss Cecily doesn't need to apologize to me," Ophelia said, having eavesdropped at the door for quite some time before seizing the opportunity to interject.
She staggered in, stood before them with tear-filled eyes, and said, "Miss Cecily doesn't have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one who got drunk and emotional, leading to everything that happened. Don't blame Miss Cecily."
Cecily watched Ophelia with a smile. She was truly clever. Hearing about her deliberate altercation by the pool, Ophelia immediately attributed her behavior to the effects of alcohol – what could anyone else say to that?
"Darian, don't blame Miss Cecily."
'Listening, the way she keeps saying don't blame me, which makes it sound like it's all my fault, and she, Ophelia is the magnanimous one forgiving me.'
Cecily didn't feel like saying much more. "If you two want drama, please take it elsewhere," she said with a note of finality.
She effectively showed them the door.
Darian gave Cecily a deep look, his handsome face covered with a frosty layer. Without a word, he stood up and strode out.
Seeing Darian exit, Ophelia naturally didn't linger either. She gave Cecily a deeply resentful glance before following Darian out the door.
"Darian, tonight..." she began.
Darian cast a cool glance back and simply said, "Get some rest."
With that, he left her with nothing but a cold silhouette to stare at.
Ophelia bit her lip hard, looked at the firmly shut door of Cecily's room, and turned to go back to her own.
The next morning dawned.
Just as Cecily finished packing her things, the doorbell rang. Her brow furrowing, she went to answer it, only to find Darian standing tall on her doorstep, his expression inscrutable. "Let's go," he said icily.
It was only seven in the morning; did he really need to be this insistent?
"Darian, do I have a terminal disease? Is that why you're so persistent?"
"Are you coming or not?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No!"
Cecily really wanted to know what had happened while she was unconscious the night before that had made Darian so concerned about her health.
"I haven't finished packing yet."
Larkin, standing behind Darian, handed Cecily a bag. "Miss Cecily, here are some clean clothes for you to change into."
Cecily glanced at her wrinkled clothes, a result of a night's sleep, and accepted the bag. "Thanks."
"Hurry up, you have five minutes," Darian said, glancing at his watch, his voice devoid of warmth.
Cecily cast a puzzled look at Darian and frowned, "You don't plan on coming with me, do you?"
"Otherwise, do you think I came over early in the morning just to bring you clothes?"
"Hurry up, you've got four minutes and thirty seconds left."
With a loud "bang," the door was slammed shut by Cecily.
Darian's face darkened as he glared at that closed door as if he wished he could tear it off its hinges.
Standing aside, Larkin silently shook his head; he really wanted to say, "Mr. Fitzgerald, you're not going to win her over like this."
Cecily changed into her clothes and reappeared within two minutes.
She was wearing a light pink casual suit with the jacket unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top underneath, and her hair was pulled up neatly at the back of her head.
Darian brightened up at the sight of her.
Crisp and efficient, the outfit suited her perfectly.
"Mr. Larkin, did you buy this outfit?" Cecily suddenly asked.
Larkin nodded, "Yes."
Cecily smiled faintly.
It was evident she really liked the clothes.
"Good taste."
Darian's face immediately darkened, and Larkin braced himself for trouble.
He had bought the clothes, but he had followed the boss's instructions to the letter.
It seemed like he was inadvertently taking credit for the boss's praise.
Cecily pulled out her wallet and stuffed a card into Larkin's hand, "Here's the money for the clothes."
She was quite familiar with these brands; this brand was expensive, and the current season's latest collection was even pricier.
The card Cecily handed over contained three hundred thousand, which might not even be enough, but that was all the money she had on hand at the moment.
"This..." Larkin started sweating profusely.
Darian's expression turned sour, his gaze fixed on Cecily's face, his voice notably cold, "I paid for the clothes."
There was a brief silence from Cecily.
Larkin quickly pushed the card back into Darian's hand and retreated to the side, hurriedly explaining, "Miss Cecily, Mr. Fitzgerald personally picked out the clothes."
Cecily was taken aback.
Darian's gaze never left her face, as if waiting for her to say something.
Cecily's mouth twitched slightly, "...Thank you."
Darian's gaze remained unflinchingly on Cecily, clearly unsatisfied with what she had said; his stare was still filled with a chilly undertone.
Larkin was behind her, frantically signaling Cecily with meaningful looks.
Cecily seemed to catch on and directed her attention back to Darian, attempting to speak, "Your taste... is quite good."
Darian finally relaxed his warning gaze and responded with a nonchalant "Hmm."
She really thought to herself, 'he's quite confident in himself!'
Cecily wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, baffled by Darian's sudden erratic behavior.
"Keep up," Darian commanded as he started walking ahead.
There was no avoiding it today, Cecily realized, so she resigned herself to take it one step at a time.
Larkin stood aside, watching the two.
The man, dignified and commanding; the woman, refined and efficient.
They looked like a perfectly matched pair.
Ophelia' room door was ajar, and she had been eavesdropping on their entire conversation from inside, her fingers pinching her palm hard enough to leave varied depths of nail marks.
Once they had left, Ophelia stepped out of her room.
She had overheard last night that Darian was taking Cecily to get a medical examination.
For what reason?
Was Cecily terminally ill?
If that were the case...
It would be fantastic for Ophelia.
Best if Cecily just died of a terminal illness and spared Ophelia the trouble!
With these thoughts, Ophelia followed them.
At the hospital, Cecily underwent various tests arranged by Darian, and what surprised her was his patience.
A full-body checkup took a whole morning, yet Darian never left; whatever test she was undergoing, he sat quietly outside waiting.
He was like a responsible husband accompanying his beloved wife to her medical appointments.
The doctor who examined Cecily couldn't help but express their envy, "Ma'am, the gentleman outside must be your husband, right? He's really good to you. It's rare to see a man that patient waiting with his wife during her tests."
Cecily turned her head to glance at Darian sitting outside. He wasn't playing with his phone; he simply sat there, calmly watching in her direction.
Their gazes inadvertently collided, and Darian raised an eyebrow.
The doctor was still singing praises, using the term "husband" persistently.
Cecily felt a ripple in her heart, yet her lips curled into a bitter smile, "Doctor, he's not my husband; we're divorced."
The doctor paused, "Ah?"
It may have been hard for the doctor to believe.
They looked so loving and well-matched; how could they be divorced?
However, seeing the expression on Cecily's face, the doctor quickly shut up and got back to the point, "The test results show that all your health indicators are normal, there's nothing to worry about."
"However, since you've donated a kidney before, the single kidney has to work harder, which can lead to fatigue and discomfort. So, you need to pay more attention to your health, avoid overexertion, drink less alcohol, and focus on a healthy diet."
Cecily nodded, "I understand, doctor. There is something I need to ask of you."
"Sure, tell me."
"If that gentleman outside asks about my health, you just need to tell him I'm doing fine. No need to go into details."
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