You Humiliated Me, I Left No Trace

Chapter 8

Lila followed Dorian into the quiet hall. Having overheard every word of the siblings' exchange, a faint, mocking smile touched her lips.

A short while ago, Adrian had made a grand spectacle of his declining health, claiming his body was giving out and that his days were numbered. Yet here he was—it turned out to be nothing more than a simple chest cold.

She strolled toward the memorial altar, her voice dry and devoid of emotion. "I heard Old Mr. Sheldon passed away. I came to pay my respects."

She picked up a single white rose from the tray, stepping forward to place it before the old man's funeral portrait. Before she could lay it down, Adrian bolted upright and seized her wrist with a iron grip.

Lila's eyes turned glacial in an instant. "What is wrong with you now?"

Adrian locked his dark, hollow eyes onto hers, his voice hard and rasping. "There is no need. You are far too important, Miss Sterling. My grandfather wouldn't dare accept your tribute."

Rage surged in Lila's chest. But as she looked at his ghostly, bloodless face, that anger inexplicably curdled into a restless, prickling irritation.

Yanking her hand free, she let out a cold scoff. "At least you know your place."

She tossed the white rose back onto the table, turning on her heel to leave with Dorian.

At the threshold, she threw one final remark over her shoulder. "This ends here. Consider our families' debts settled."

A single, careless sentence—yet it brought hot, bitter tears to Adrian's eyes.

A sharp, searing tang welled in his throat as blood churned upward. Clenching his jaw, he bit down hard on his lip, forcing the blood back down. Turning to meet his sister's worried gaze, his heart softened instantly.

"Celia," he said softly, forcing a gentle smile. "You're pregnant—you shouldn't be standing in this cold. Go rest in your room. I'll stay and keep vigil over the hall."

Looking at her brother's fragile, forced smile, Celia's heart broke into a thousand pieces. She threw her arms around his shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.

The funeral was a sparse, bleak affair. Only a handful of Harold's former loyal subordinates and colleagues turned up to pay their respects. The quiet was oppressive.

From one of the mourners, Adrian learned that two days prior, Lila had indeed pulled strings and exerted her vast influence to reinstate Victor to his former executive position.

A small sliver of light pierced the oppressive gloom in Adrian's heart. He turned to his sister, a genuine, albeit tired, smile appearing on his face for the first time since their grandfather's passing.

Celia managed a faint curve of her lips, though her eyes remained heavy with profound weariness.

One by one, the mourners drifted away, leaving only the brother and sister standing silently before the headstone, unwilling to say goodbye.

Not until the sky turned pitch black did they lean on each other, slowly trudging back toward the city.

On the dark road, Adrian held Celia's hand tightly in his own. After a long hesitation, he whispered, "Celia... Victor got his job back. He'll probably come to pick you up soon."

Celia stiffened. She didn't utter a single word the entire way home.

When they reached the old Sheldon estate, a sleek black luxury sedan was parked right outside the rusted iron gates.

Victor was leaning against the hood. Seeing Celia return, his face darkened, his voice laced with cold arrogance. "Look at you, putting on airs. Do I really have to come begging in person before you deign to come home?"

Adrian swallowed his rising anger, stepping forward quickly to smooth things over. "Victor, let's talk calmly. There's no need to speak to her like that—"

Celia gently pressed her hand against her brother's arm, stepping past him.

The woman who had always been tender and soft-spoken now held eyes as sharp as ice. "Victor," she said, every word dripping with absolute clarity. "I will say this for the last time. I am not going back with you."

Adrian froze.

Before Victor could react, a saccharine, heavily powdered woman stepped out from the passenger side of the luxury car. She was dressed gaudily, her face caked in heavy makeup, exuding a cheap, practiced allure.

"Oh, darling," the woman crooned, her voice thick with mock sympathy. "A dutiful wife always belongs at her husband's side. Since you married Mr. Holloway, everything you do should be for his benefit."

Celia's expression darkened instantly.

Adrian's chest tightened. "Who are you?" he demanded coldly.

The woman let out a light, provocative laugh, leaning against Victor. "Everyone claims you and Mr. Holloway are a devoted couple. Doesn't seem like it to me. Otherwise, why wouldn't he have told you that I've already moved in? I share his home now—same as you."

It felt as though a bolt of lightning had struck Adrian. He turned to look at his sister, seeing the familiar, agonizing shame reflected in her eyes.

In that terrible second, his hands and feet went ice-cold.

It had never crossed his mind that his gentle, selfless sister was trapped in the exact same loveless, abusive hell as he was.

A tidal wave of fury and heartache threatened to swallow him whole.

But the woman wasn't finished. Stepping closer, she escalated her provocation. "Why don't you come home with us, sweetie? Victor already promised that once your baby is born, I'll be taking custody and raising it as my own."

Adrian's pupils contracted sharply. Before he could step between them, a sharp, violent c***k echoed through the freezing air.

SLAP.

Celia's hand hung in the air. She didn't even glance at the woman, who was clutching her reddened cheek in utter shock.

"Victor," Celia said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin blade. "Take your mistress and get off my property. Now."

The mistress's eyes darted slyly. The next second, she doubled over, clutching her stomach and screeching hysterically, "Victor! Oh god, my stomach! Our baby!"

Victor's face twisted into demonic rage. Lunging forward, he shoved Celia hard in the chest. "She's pregnant! Have you lost your damn mind, hitting her?"

Celia's foot slipped on the ice. Losing her balance, she crashed heavily onto the frozen pavement.

Victor didn't spare his fallen wife a single glance. Frantically scooping the mistress into his arms, he hurried into the luxury car and sped away into the night.

"Celia!"

Adrian dropped to his knees to pull her up. But as his eyes fell upon her lap, his heart stopped beating.

A pool of vivid, hot red was rapidly spreading through her skirts, staining the white snow beneath her.

"Adrian..." Celia whimpered, her face turning as white as linen, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. "My stomach... it hurts so much..."

Adrian's heart plummeted into a bottomless abyss. Scooping his limp, bleeding sister into his arms in sheer panic, his voice broke. "Don't be scared... I'm taking you to the hospital right now!"

The sky was black as ink. The desolate streets were empty, devoid of a single car or passerby.

Adrian carried his fading sister in his arms, stumbling step by excruciating step down the snow-covered avenue.

"Celia, hold on... we're almost there..." he gasped, his lungs burning as the freezing wind cut into his throat like shattered glass.

He had never felt a road stretch so impossibly long. He wanted to run, to fly, but his broken, dying body simply could not muster the strength.

In his arms, Celia's breathing grew fainter and fainter. After a agonizing pause, a barely audible whisper escaped her lips.

Adrian let out a ragged breath of relief, pushing his numb legs forward.

He couldn't see that in his arms, Celia's face was utterly drained of blood, her lower lip bitten raw and bleeding as she fought to stay conscious.