When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2037

Nathaniel navigated the drive home, and he told Cecilia about Elena and Wren. Beside him, Cecilia leaned forward, concern creasing her brow while the car hummed through the night.

"Dad's words are too hurtful. No wonder Mom insists on getting a divorce," Cecilia said.

As a woman herself, she felt Elena's humiliation like a bruise under her own skin.

Nathaniel reached over, threading his fingers through hers. "Dad will regret this one day," he said quietly, conviction flickering in his dark eyes.

Everyone in the Rainsworth family had witnessed Elena's devotion. Wren had been too busy soaking in luxury to notice the cost paid by the woman beside him.

"Let's hope so." Cecilia nodded. "If Dad realizes this sooner, it'll be good for Mom, too. She won't be giving everything for nothing."

Their conversation dwindled as the car rolled beneath iron gates and into the courtyard of the Smith residence, the manor crouching under a quilt of new snow.

The family climbed out, boots crunching across the frosted path that led toward the warm glow of the front doors.

Jonathan had been brought home as well, mainly to keep Queenie company during the bleak winter evenings.

Inside, Charlotte sat with Queenie on the sun-room balcony, both women wrapped in knitted throws, marveling at flurries drifting past the glass.

Queenie looked far brighter tonight. When she spotted her family, her eyes lit up. "Ceci!"

Cecilia hurriedly walked toward her. "Mom, why are you up?"

Charlotte immediately replied, "Mdm. Queenie said she needed some fresh air and insisted on leaving the house."

Queenie caught Cecilia's hand, her grip reassuringly firm.

"Don't blame Lottie. I wanted to come out myself. Lottie is just keeping me company, chatting while we watch the snow."

Of course, Cecilia wouldn't blame Charlotte. She was grateful beyond words that Charlotte was here to keep her mom company.

"I know. I'm just worried you'll get cold. Didn't the doctor say you shouldn't be in the wind?"

"It's fine. There's no wind outside," Queenie added.

Cecilia hovered beside the wheelchair, words tangled in her throat. She knew all too well that a sterile ward could stretch her mom's life but never plant joy.

Cecilia lowered herself to eye level and, after a breath, murmured, "Then let me sit out here with you. We'll watch the snow, just the two of us."

After all, she was Queenie's daughter and the CEO of Jamieson Group; the Escobars could do nothing to her.

Queenie exhaled. "Good—now I can rest easy." Her palm patted Cecilia's shoulder once, then her gaze drifted back to the white-spun sky.

Weariness settled over her like fresh snow. Her eyelids fluttered, then slid closed.

Cecilia waved a caregiver over. Together they guided the wheelchair through the drifting hush and back inside.

Life, it seemed, was an endless ledger of gain and loss—entries inked whether one consented or not.

Cecilia kept vigil at the bedside, unwilling to step even a pace away.

Just before dawn, she dozed. When her eyes snapped open again, the silence told her everything—Queenie had slipped away.

"Mom!" she cried out.

Only stillness answered; the body on the mattress lay utterly at peace.