Chapter 58 A Talk with Darian
Ophelia had heard everything from last night's phone call crystal clear.
Cecily and Darian hadn't finalized their divorce. Legally, they were still husband and wife.
Without a divorce, there was no chance for her to marry Darian.
Hence, Ophelia needed them to hurry and officially get the divorce papers, and then she'd have to take care of the child, killing two birds with one stone.
As long as the child was back with Cecily, Darian would no longer shield him, giving Ophelia the perfect opportunity to make her move.
Both Cecily and Rowan were major threats to her.
She wasn't about to let them live peacefully in this world.
They were powerless against her, one word from her and they could vanish.
Cecily watched Ophelia with a cool gaze, not missing the sinister flash in her eyes.
She wasn't naïve, Ophelia was hardly the charitable type.
Cooperate with her? One could be plotted against and never see it coming.
“So, have you thought it over? Will you cooperate with me? You get your child, I get to marry Darian, and we clear all our grievances once and for all. How about it?”
Cecily picked up a photograph, clutching it firmly, her expression growing darker, “What if I confronted Darian with these pictures?”
Ophelia was taken aback, “What then? Those are his penalties, showing them to him accomplishes nothing.”
Though Ophelia spoke evenly, there was a flicker of panic in her eyes that Cecily keenly noticed.
“So, are you in or not?”
“I'm not cooperating,” Cecily stated bluntly as she stood up, ready to leave.
Ophelia hadn't expected Cecily to refuse.
Did she not care about her child’s suffering?
Or did she not want to divorce Darian at all?
Ophelia gripped Cecily's arm, demanding, "Why? You never wanted a divorce from Darian, did you?"
"Yeah," Cecily retorted with a cold snicker. "As long as I'm married to Darian, you’ll always be the other woman."
"You!" Ophelia bit her lip, trembling with rage at Cecily’s words. She reached for the steaming coffee mug in front of her, intending to hurl it at Cecily.
Cecily caught on to her intentions instantly, grabbing the mug first, and at almost the same moment, seized Ophelia’s wrist.
Ophelia’s brow furrowed, feeling as if her wrist was being crushed by Cecily.
"Let me go, you wretch."
"I suppose you haven't hurt my child enough, huh?"
Ophelia's eyes widened. "What are you planning to do?"
"Just claiming a bit of interest. Wanted some coffee, right? Let me help you."
With those words, Cecily lifted her arm and turned the coffee mug upside down over Ophelia's head.
"Stop..."
Her plea caught in her throat, her body shaking violently, frozen in place like a fool.
The hot coffee, around 160 degrees Fahrenheit, started to pour slowly down her head, the scalding sticky sensation trailing down.
Trails of brown liquid ran down her exquisite face, and her carefully styled hair drooped lifelessly onto her shoulders, leaving her covered in warm, sticky liquid.
It was a mess.
"Ah! Cecily!"
Ophelia screamed, her body quivering all over.
Cecily placed the coffee mug back on the table calmly, watching the disheveled figure of Ophelia. "Still want more?"
Ophelia clenched her teeth, her fists balled up tight, her beautiful eyes filled with fury staring at Cecily, wishing she could tear her to pieces.
How dare she. How could she?
"Cecily, you just wait, I won't let this go."
Cecily simply smiled faintly.
Even without a mirror, Ophelia knew just how disfigured she looked. Ignoring everything else, she grabbed the photos she had brought with her and quickly fled the place.
Cecily’s lips tightened, and her indifferent gaze turned darkly intense as she watched Ophelia’s retreat.
She glanced at the leftover photo, an image of Rowan kneeling on the ground, forced to write lines as punishment.
Cecily clenched her fists tight and stepped out.
She didn't know whether Darian was aware of this incident, but Cecily knew she couldn't just sit around and do nothing.
Cecily decided to confront Darian with the photo in hand.
Heading to the Fitzgerald residence, she was told by a servant that Darian wasn't home at the moment.
Cecily called Darian, no answer.
She then dialed Larkin. After asking what Cecily needed and hearing her tense tone, Larkin hesitated, "Miss Cecily, please hold on."
Cecily could tell Larkin went to check with Darian.
Suddenly, Hayden's voice came through, "Who is it? Oh, Mrs. Fitzgerald? I'll take it."
Hayden took the phone, "Mrs. Fitzgerald, Mr. Darian is at Delray, booth 808."
Cecily frowned slightly, "Okay."
Delray was a well-known lounge of Silver Frost Capital, a lavish melting pot for the elite.
Cecily got in her car and drove straight there.
Booth 808, the top-tier private room.
This was it.
As Cecily approached, the club's manager was briefing several attractive hostesses, "Everyone in this room is a key player from Silver Frost Capital. Pay attention and serve them well."
The hostesses blinked excitedly, the prospect of meeting Mr. Darian today, a dream they had never imagined could come true.
They opened the door and entered, Cecily slipped in behind them.
As the doors swung open, everyone inside turned their gaze toward them. The hostesses each found a seat next to the affluent young gentlemen.
Only Cecily remained standing there, her gaze sweeping over the crowd in search of Darian. She seemed out of place with her aura of cool, unapproachable elegance.
"Hey, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Hayden was the first to recognize her, calling out to her directly.
A chorus of eyes snapped to her at once in the dimly lit private room.
"Why are you here?" A deep, unhurried voice asked from the shadows.
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