CEO's Caged Ex-wife

Chapter 6 Nathan, How Are You Going to Atone for Your Sins?

The beams of the car's headlights illuminated the road, cold and desolate.

Florence sat in the passenger seat, looking ahead calmly. The door beside her was locked, and her hands were tightly bound with a necktie, tied to the overhead handle. In her mind, Nathan's heartless words echoed relentlessly.

"Ellie lost her child because of you. Go to the hospital and take care of her. Atone for your sins!"

Atone for my sins?

Florence let out a soft laugh and spoke word by word.

"If you say that Ellie lost her child because of me, and I must take care of her to atone for my sins, then my child was lost because of you. Nathan, how are you going to atone for your sins?"

Nathan's eyes remained fixed on the road. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and a flicker of pain flashed through his eyes. He pressed his thin lips together and said nothing. He felt that although Florence was sitting beside him, she seemed out of reach.

Like the faint, almost illusory figure he had seen on the balcony that morning—she seemed to disappear at any time.

The car went straight into the hospital's underground parking lot. The necktie binding Florence's wrists was untied, leaving a noticeable mark. She was dragged out of the car by Nathan, pulled into the elevator, and pushed into Ellie's ward.

"Mom, it's all my fault. I didn't protect Michael's child!"

"How can this be your fault?"

When Florence was pushed into the room, she saw Ellie and Isabella. They were embracing each other and crying.

Isabella was in a peacock-green dress, draped with an expensive wine-red shawl. Her hair was neatly pinned up, adorned with a silver hairpin. Her face was gentle and serene, exuding elegance and grace.

When she saw Florence and Nathan approaching, Isabella wiped the tears and stood up from the bedside. She glanced at Florence indifferently, her gaze quickly shifting to Nathan behind her.

"Michael is gone. Now, Ellie only has you. You must take good care of her."

"Yes, Mother."

Nathan responded respectfully.

Isabella was Nathan's stepmother. Out of gratitude for her upbringing, Nathan had always respected her, addressing her as "Mother" rather than the more intimate "Mom."

After a few more words of advice to Ellie, which Florence missed, Isabella left the room. Florence watched the woman go, pondering a question: Ellie's child was Michael's only child, yet it was lost because of her. Isabella, who should have hated her the most, didn't seem to harbor such deep resentment.

What was even more perplexing was that, despite her own son's death, she was encouraging Eleanor to get closer to her stepson, Nathan.

Everyone said Madam Isabella was gentle and virtuous, but she had never truly understood her in the past year. She was somewhat afraid of her and avoided seeing her whenever possible. However, Isabella seemed to pay no attention to Florence, who had no family background.

"Heh."

A soft laugh brought Florence back to reality. She looked at the bed.

Eleanor lay in a pink-striped hospital gown, her long hair cascading down her back. She lay on the bed with arrogance and a smug smile. Nathan was not in the room.

"Was it hard to keep up the act for three months?"

This was what Florence had always wanted to ask Ellie.

Eleanor had started acting strangely three months before. Everyone thought she had transferred her feelings for Nathan to the child in her womb. Little did they know that she had already planned to get rid of the child after Michael's death, aiming to secure Nathan, the sole heir of the Brooks family.

"Florrie, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

Ellie looked at Florence with a weak expression, feigning confusion.

Just as Florence was about to speak, she saw Eleanor suddenly fall heavily from the bed to the floor. Without thinking, Florence rushed over to help her up. But just as her hand grasped Eleanor's arm, the door behind her was pushed open.

"Ellie!"

Seeing her on the floor, Nathan's expression changed drastically. He quickly walked over and pushed Florence aside.

"Nathan, don't blame Florrie. She... she just... love you too much..."

Eleanor leaned into Nathan's arms, her voice choked with sobs as if trying to find an excuse for Florence. But in the end, she came up with the same excuse as when she had fallen down the stairs—that Florence had pushed her out of jealousy.

"Florence, don't you know Ellie just had a miscarriage?"

Nathan held Ellie in his arms, his cold eyes fixed on Florence, who had been lying on the floor for a while without getting up.

Florence sat on the floor. The push had aggravated the wound on her arm, and a streak of red seeped through her tracksuit. Hearing Nathan's accusation, she laughed.

How naive was she to believe that Eleanor had really fallen off the bed? But now, there was someone even more foolish than her—Nathan, who had been fooled by Eleanor repeatedly. A sarcastic smile played on her lips as she turned to look at the man she had loved for ten years.

It seemed to have nothing to do with intelligence or foolishness. It had something to do with love.

At this moment, she desperately wanted to ask: He knew about Eleanor's miscarriage, but did he know about hers? Did he know that she had been forced to kneel on the ground, losing her child, abandoned in a neglected ward, then kidnapped, and now dragged here to take care of Eleanor?

Tears blurred her vision once more. Florence wiped the tears and stood up.

Seeing the tears in Florence's eyes, Nathan's gaze deepened. He said nothing more, picking Eleanor up from the floor and carefully placing her back on the bed.

"If you're so worried about her, Mr. Brooks, you should be wary of me. After all, I'm a venomous, scheming woman."

With that, Florence walked toward the door. But as she pulled it open, she saw two men in suits standing outside. They blocked her path.

"Mr. Brooks said you should stay in the room for the next few days to take good care of Ms. Howard."

Florence turned back and saw that Nathan seemed to have known she couldn't leave. He was carefully tucking Eleanor in, not even having a look at her. After he finished, he sat on a chair by the bed, peeling an apple. His fingers were elegant, making the action seem graceful.

Florence sat on the sofa, quietly watching the man and the woman not far away.

She told herself that her heart would only need to hurt a little more, just a little more, and then it would grow numb. Once numb, it wouldn't hurt anymore.

Nathan cut the apple into small pieces and handed them to Eleanor. His gaze inadvertently shifted toward Florence, sitting on the sofa, her eyes downcast, lost in thought. The once docile woman now seemed obstinate.

That night, the three of them slept in the same room, each in their own space.

Although Nathan had restricted Florence's movements, she had no intention of serving Eleanor. She had no family, no one to threaten. Nathan had to take care of Eleanor himself.

Eleanor lay in the bed, Nathan on the accompanying cot, and Florence on the sofa.

In the middle of the night, she faintly sensed someone standing beside her. The person seemed to have been watching her for a long time. Then, a warmth spread over her...