Chapter 70 This Slap is for My Child
Darian's frown deepened as he glanced at Cecily and said with biting sarcasm, "Do you think that you could threaten me if I really want to marry her?"
“If you really wanted to marry her, why bother keeping me around? As an eyesore?” Cecily's voice rose in pitch.
Cecily hadn't forgotten the cold determination he had shown when he demanded she sign the divorce papers. If he was so eager to be with Ophelia, why keep her here?
She couldn't make sense of it.
Not just Cecily, even Darian himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving.
The mere thought of her with another man irritated him, and that annoyance only subsided when he pulled her back into his life.
So, Darian would not let her go. Absolutely not.
In the moment, faced with the woman's questioning look, Darian didn't feel like explaining. He let out a scoff, "Do I need to explain myself to you? You just need to know that you can't escape from my grasp. You might as well be a good girl and save your energy."
Cecily looked at him, her clenched fist turning white. She closed her eyes briefly and then said nothing more.
After all these years, she knew his temperament all too well.
How could she hope for him to speak to her like a decent human being, to say something proper to her?
Soon, the boat docked, and Darian grabbed Cecily's hand and forced her into the car.
Cecily sat quietly in the car, not causing a scene or resisting. After all, resistance was futile.
She figured she might as well save her energy.
Inside the car, four people sat in silence.
The driver and Larkin didn't dare to speak, Darian was silent, and Cecily didn't want to talk. It was exceptionally quiet.
Sensing the unusual compliance of the woman next to him, Darian glanced at her. Cecily, still dressed in his shirt and trousers, sat tightly against the car window, turning her head to look outside, her gaze giving nothing to him.
Darian withdrew his gaze and suddenly asked, "Cold?"
Cecily glanced back at him and said casually, "Not cold."
Darian, reclining elegantly on the back of his seat, instructed the driver, "Roll down the window."
The window went down, and a gust of chilly autumn air mercilessly swept over Cecily's face. The car sped on, and she couldn't help but turn her face back from the window and look straight ahead.
She wondered if Darian was doing this on purpose.
She said she wasn't cold, she hadn't said anything about being hot, had she?
With the window now open, the cold air poured in as if it cost nothing.
She felt sure that Darian was doing it on purpose.
At this moment, the man in the suit and polished shoes, with his long legs crossed, one over the other, gazed downward expressionlessly, leafing through a document in his hand at a leisurely pace.
Cecily glared at him forcefully.
She didn't notice the slight upturn of Darian's thin lips.
The car quickly returned to the Fitzgerald mansion.
Cecily, gazing at the imposing villa, couldn't help but frown, "Why are you bringing me back to the Fitzgerald mansion?"
During their journey, Darian never let his gaze fall on Cecily again. When he heard her voice, he closed the file he was reviewing and handed it off to Larkin, his voice steady as he asked, "What do you think?"
Cecily's mind flashed back to a few hours earlier, to his comment about 'including sharing my bed.' She clenched her fists tight.
Darian stared at her, scrutinizing her expression closely. After a moment, he let out an almost imperceptible chuckle. "Sharing my bed?"
To Cecily, his query sounded like a statement of intent, as if he was expecting her to sleep with him.
Her eyes flashed dangerously, and in an instant, she raised her hand, gripping a sharp paring knife, pressing it against Darian's neck.
Darian looked at her as if she were some kind of freak.
The two people ahead turned to see the knife action in the back with a sense of desperation and near-tears...
The strange tension in the air lasted for what seemed an eternity until Darian slowly shifted his gaze from Cecily to the knife in her hand.
"So, the cut from the day before yesterday hasn't healed, and today you want to add another one? Cecily, have I been too kind to you? Is that why you dare to go at me with knives over and over?" he mused.
Cecily's action was a reflex, seizing the closest weapon at hand to defend herself.
It was a clear sign that, deep down, she harbored a wariness towards Darian.
"Darian, can you get any more vile?" she snapped.
Darian snorted coldly through his nose. "Who's the vile one here? What I just said was a question. I brought you here to treat me, not for anything else. Your dirty mind is what twists it into something vile."
Cecily's brow twitched. It wasn't that she had a twisted mind. Darian's earlier look had been anything but innocent.
Darian pushed her hand away. "Get out of the car, and don't make me ask you again."
With those words, he stepped out of the car.
Cecily glanced outside and had no choice but to follow suit.
Ophelia had been waiting for a while in the villa, and as soon as she heard the sound of the car returning, she quickly dashed outside. The moment she spotted Darian, her eyes simultaneously fell on Cecily.
Her pace gradually slowed until she came to a complete halt, the smile on her face solidifying.
Following Darian's lead, Cecily strode in, passing by Ophelia, who shot her a furious glare, as if her gaze could bore holes through Cecily.
Ophelia knew that Cecily was deceiving her, that she had no intention of leaving.
She thought Cecily was just pretending to want her help, aiming to upset Darian so that she could find an opportunity to get close to him again.
That woman! Ophelia raged inwardly.
If looks could kill, Cecily felt she would have been sliced a thousand times over by Ophelia.
Withdrawing her gaze, Ophelia forced a rigid smile to mask her emotions and approached Darian, taking his hand, "Darian, why did you bring Miss Cecily back?"
Darian glanced at Ophelia's hand on his arm, his brow creasing slightly, aware of Cecily standing behind him. He didn't shake off Ophelia, simply remarking, "She's useful."
Ophelia shot a glance back at Cecily, then, clutching Darian's arm as if to assert her territory, she followed Darian into the house.
Cecily stood still, mumbling to herself, "I have no idea what bad karma I must've racked up in a past life to deserve encountering such a bizarre couple."
Larkin, nearby, heard every word of Cecily's muttered complaints and couldn't help but smirk.
'Could Mrs. Fitzgerald maybe not bad-mouth the boss when I am within earshot next time?'
Making a welcoming gesture, Larkin said, "After you, Mrs. Fitzgerald."
"Don't call me Mrs. Fitzgerald, unless you want Ophelia to shoot you dead with her eyes."
Larkin was speechless.
Cecily then stepped forward and walked into the house.
As Cecily had predicted, Ophelia clung to Darian in an overtly syrupy manner as soon as she entered the room, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness that seemed to have the sole purpose of turning someone's stomach.
Darian allowed Ophelia’s fawning and affected concern, appearing to rather enjoy the attention.
With a sense of triumph, Ophelia shot Cecily a smug glance, the provocation clear in her actions. When she noticed the clothes Cecily wore, Ophelia’s eyes darkened with malice.
Cecily could almost hear the grinding of Ophelia's teeth.
However, Ophelia maintained a good front, holding back her irritation with a forced laugh and saying, “Miss Cecily, why are you wearing Darian's clothes?”
Ophelia was obviously trying to disgust her, but Cecily wasn’t going to make it easy for her. She shot back, “What do you think?”
True to form, Ophelia seemed as if she might crack her front teeth from clenching so hard. Her facial muscles twitched before she squeezed out her words, “Miss Cecily, I have new clothes in my room. If you don’t mind, you could wear mine.”
Cecily knew what Ophelia was plotting, but taking a look at the ill-fitting clothes she had on, she was indeed fed up. She accepted the offer with a simple, “Okay.”
Maintaining her strained smile, Ophelia turned to Darian and said, “Darian, I'll take Miss Cecily to change clothes then.”
Darian just nodded, showing no sign of objection.
Cecily followed Ophelia upstairs, where Ophelia led her into the master bedroom.
Surveying the room, Cecily’s thoughts naturally drifted to the three years she’d previously spent there.
Once the bedroom door closed, Ophelia fixed her gaze on Cecily. Alone and without restraint, she stepped forward with a raised hand aiming for Cecily’s face, spitting venomously, “Cecily, you wretch.”
The sound of a sharp slap echoed through the room.
Ophelia, holding her face in disbelief, stumbled backward several steps.
Apparently, she hadn't expected Cecily to react so quickly.
"Cecily, this is Fitzgerald Mansion. How dare you hit me?" Cecily shook the sting from her palm, her icy gaze fixed on her, "Does it hurt?"
Ophelia narrowed her eyes.
"It should hurt. That slap was for my child."
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