When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2053

She bent at the waist, fingers gripping Stella's chin hard enough to whiten the knuckles, forcing the woman to tilt her scratched-up face to the light.

The gashes that crisscrossed Stella's cheeks—a deranged mural painted by fellow patients—had stripped away every trace of her former allure, leaving something almost feral in its place.

"Tell me, Stella," Cecilia said, voice low, blade-sharp. "Does a 'best friend' steal another woman's husband? Claim her achievements? Harm her child?" Each accusation fell like a gavel, reverberating through the sterile room long after Cecilia's hand released its grip.

Tears fell from Stella's eyes. "Ceci—Ms. Smith—please, I swear I know I was wrong. I regret every careless, cruel thing I ever did. The remorse burns so fiercely I cannot breathe. If only I could go back, undo the damage, I would. I beg you—open these doors, let me see the sky again, I cannot last another night in this place. Have mercy on me."

Since her first night inside the locked ward, Stella had plotted escape. Three separate times, she had slipped past orderlies, only to be hauled back, wrists bruised, hope bruised worse.

Watching the once-glamorous actress reduced to this trembling ruin filled Cecilia with a cool, unabashed peace she had never tasted before.

With an abrupt flick of her wrist, Cecilia's palm cracked across Stella's cheek, the sound sharp as a snapped twig. "I see no sign your illness is cured," she said, her tone frost-cold. "So you will continue treatment."

The sentence detonated in Stella's ears like summer thunder, leaving her vision ringing with white heat.

She shook her head. "No, no, Ceci, you can't treat me like this. I am begging you—let me go. Everyone in here torments me. They are the real lunatics."

In another life, Cecilia might have softened at that sound. But she had learned the bitter law of survival. Pity for an abuser is violence against your former self.

Ignoring Stella's pleas, Cecilia faced the director in his white coat. "Doctor, this patient clearly hasn't recovered. Please continue her treatment. The fees will be paid in full."

The director nodded once. "Understood."

Panic cracked her composure. Stella dropped to her knees and clutched at Cecilia's legs, nails scraping expensive fabric.

"Cecilia, you can't do this to me! You used to be kind—remember?"

A single glance from Cecilia and two orderlies pried Stella away, their grip iron, her struggles useless.

"No—please—don't make me stay!" Stella's cry tore down the corridor, but help never came.

Cecilia watched in silence as the woman was dragged toward the ward. "You owe me this," she said, her voice as calm as winter glass.

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