When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2168

The next morning broke gently over the weekend, sunlight pooling across the driveway like warm syrup.

Before Felix had fully rubbed sleep from his eyes, Miranda ushered him into the back seat of a black sedan bound for yet another tutor's house—another battlefield, another chance to stay ahead.

Felix slumped in the leather backseat, lashes fluttering as he drifted in and out of a shallow nap.

During the drive, the smartwatch on Felix's wrist kept chiming, each bright beep slicing through the cramped car like a needle.

Blinking awake, Felix raised his wrist. On the glowing screen, dozens of messages crowded the class group chat—everyone bragging that they had already reached Elliot's house and were getting ready to play.

A pang of envy pricked him. He pictured the laughter, the snacks, the secret competitions, and an impatient yearning rushed up his throat like a shout he could barely swallow.

Outside, the main road lay buried beneath a crust of snow. Tire tracks etched uneven grooves, forcing the chauffeur to inch forward with exaggerated caution.

They were—according to the dashboard map—only a corner away from the teacher's house when every lane condensed into an unmoving knot of headlights. Just their luck to be caught in a traffic jam.

Up front, the chauffeur's shoulders tightened until the fabric of his gray uniform creaked.

"What now?" he muttered, drumming the steering wheel. "By the time this jam clears, we will be awfully late."

"I'll walk there," Felix suddenly offered, voice light and almost innocent, even as his eyes sparked with calculation.

"Walk? Absolutely not," the chauffeur blurted. "Mrs. Rainsworth made it clear that I am to deliver you to the tutor's door myself."

Felix's brows pinched together, darkening his boyish face. "Fine. But if I show up late, I will mention to Mommy that you took your sweet time behind the wheel."

Color drained from the man's cheeks. He had heard the stories—Felix was a spoiled brat and could be a holy terror when displeased.

Traffic was gridlocked, yet the boy accused him of poor driving skills.

Alas, the man relied on this job to feed his family. Arguing with a child would only invite trouble he couldn't afford.

"In that case, I'll pull over and walk with you," he said, searching for compromise.

Felix surveyed the surrounding cars packed bumper-to-bumper. No shoulder, no alley, no possible space to wedge the sedan aside. Even reversing was impossible in the frozen queue.

Besides, at the moment, even reversing was impossible; the sedan was boxed in on every side.

"Then hurry up," Felix replied, tone dropping to a chilly whisper. "Or I will complain to Mommy and have her fire you."

"All right. Once you arrive, please promise you'll text or call."

"You've got my word," the boy answered, his tone bright and almost over-eager.

The next second, Felix sprang out of the sedan, shoulders hunched against the morning chill, sneakers slapping the pavement as he began running.

Class was the last place he planned to be today.

While weaving through late-morning traffic, he had already dialed his tutor, laid on a cough, and announced he needed a day off because he wasn't feeling well.

Moments later, he texted the chauffeur, claiming he had already arrived at the tutor's house, and assured the man that there was no need to worry.

With those twin deceptions laid, neither teacher nor driver suspected a thing.

Meanwhile, Felix flagged down a passing taxi, slid inside, and told the driver to take him straight to the Smith residence.