Chapter 7

Does Edward love Cecilia?

How could he not? If he didn't love her, he wouldn't hate her this much.

He hates her for being so cold-hearted. He hates her for indirectly causing Julia's death. He hates how she's always been so above it all, so unbothered.

He married her just to make her suffer. He couldn't stand watching her stay up on that pedestal while he could only look up at her.

She was supposed to be his woman, yet somehow he ended up looking like the fool.

Like right now — Cecilia barely reacted when she saw him with Jessica. She even brought up divorce, calm and clear as ever.

Who does she think she is?

She still owes him. How dare she just walk away, while he's still stuck in the same place, trapped in that nightmare he can't escape?

Edward's dark eyes turned cold and heavy, the corners tinged red. He grabbed Cecilia's wrist.

The next second, she was pinned down on the sofa beside the hospital bed.

He gripped her slender wrist hard, hard enough to leave a ring of bruises.

She winced in pain, but he only moved closer, pressing her down beneath him.

"Cecilia, you don't get to talk to me about divorce."

He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his icy stare.

"In this lifetime, I'm the only one who gets to walk away. Until you've paid for what you did, don't you ever dream of leaving the Percy family to chase your so-called dreams and freedom."

"You deserve to rot in the Percy family. That's all you're worth."

They were so close that Cecilia could clearly see the fresh love bite on Edward's neck — left by Jessica.

That vivid mark, like a row of mocking smiles.

She looked at Edward. Same face. But the gentleness was gone, replaced by pure cruelty.

Cecilia looked away. Edward had already snatched the divorce papers from her hand, torn them to pieces, and thrown them in her face.

Shreds of white paper drifted down around her.

Cecilia's expression stayed blank. That calm look of hers drove him absolutely crazy.

He wanted to mark her like a wild animal, his teeth already grazing her shoulder as if deciding whether to bite down — and then a sharp slap landed across his face.

"Edward, what exactly are you planning to do in front of your mistress?"

Cecilia's clothes were in disarray, a button torn open at her chest. The humiliation seemed to have rushed blood to her face, leaving her cheeks flushed pink.

Edward snapped back to himself and fixed his eyes on Cecilia.

His hand locked around her slender throat.

"Cecilia, don't even think about divorce. I want you to rot by my side forever."

His voice was low and rough, soaked in hatred, like a curse.

Then Cecilia smiled.

"Then your Jessica will spend her whole life stuck outside the Percy family with no title either."

"As long as I'm in the Percy family, Jessica will always be the mistress — the one everyone looks down on."

He had his hand around her throat, but she kept smiling, her eyes full of contempt.

"You want to go down together? Is that it?"

She could feel his grip tightening, little by little.

In his rage, he genuinely wanted to choke the life out of her.

Cecilia's face had gone completely red. Her voice trembled: "I don't mind letting everyone in Emerald City know you've been keeping Jessica hidden away!"

"Shut your mouth!"

Edward's eyes went cold and vicious. He let go of Cecilia and stood up, as if he'd touched something filthy.

Jessica lay in the hospital bed, watching everything with wide, timid eyes. She called out in a small voice, "Edward, I'm cold..."

Edward rushed to her side, anxious and tender, taking her hands in his. Jessica curled into his arms.

"Edward, I'm fine. As long as you're happy, nothing else matters to me."

Then she went limp and passed out.

"Jessica! Jessica!"

Edward frantically pressed the nurse call button.

Cecilia watched him fuss over Jessica with a blank expression, the mockery in her eyes growing deeper.

The hospital room door hadn't been fully closed. A nurse walked in with a doctor, and Cecilia glanced up — and met a face that was hard to forget.

He had sharp phoenix eyes, thin lips, and slightly upturned outer corners that held a bright, teasing glint. The classic face of a charming player. Yet he wore a white doctor's coat, which somehow gave the whole look an air of quiet elegance.

It was George Miller.

Cecilia had crossed paths with him before — just a chance meeting at a dinner party, a few casual words exchanged. But it had stuck with her.

The direct heir of the Miller family, well connected with the major families, and easily the one with the most colorful love life among them all. That face of his suited the reputation perfectly.

The Millers were a medical dynasty. Their private hospital in Emerald City, Prestige Medical Center, was the best in the industry. No one dared cross the Miller family, no matter who else they might offend.

George was a rare prodigy. He got into university at fourteen, had studied medicine from childhood, published papers across various journals, and was the brightest rising star in the medical world.

He was the director of Prestige Medical Center. You couldn't get him to show up unless you were someone truly important.

Cecilia watched George. George gave her a small nod and a smile, then strolled unhurriedly to the bedside.

George rarely showed up at dinners or social events, so Edward didn't recognize him. He just urged the doctor anxiously to start the examination.

George lazily pulled over a chair and sat down by the bed. He glanced at the nurse beside him. She understood immediately and took out a needle case — packed with a dense row of needles, some well over ten centimeters long. Edward took one look and had to turn away.

"Doctor, Jessica just has a fever. An IV drip should be enough. Do you really need those needles?" The sight of them already made Edward feel the pain.

"Who told you she has a fever?" George ran a thermometer across Jessica's forehead. "Temperature is normal. The patient appears to believe she has a psychosomatic fever. This could indicate bipolar syndrome. In the early stage it presents as fainting, but it will get progressively worse. I need to use the long needle to bring her around first."

"Her condition is difficult to treat. This injection may be quite painful — headaches lasting ten days or more wouldn't be unusual."

George said these alarming things in the most casual tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jessica's closed eyelids twitch with tension. His gaze went colder.

"I'll begin the procedure now."

The long needle moved slowly toward Jessica's face. She wasn't actually unconscious — she couldn't keep up the act any longer. She shot upright in the bed, eyes wide with terror, staring at the needle that had nearly gone into her head.

"Edward... I... I feel much better now. I don't need the needle..."

Jessica was shaking.

George narrowed his phoenix eyes and slipped the long needle back into its case. His tone turned playful. "It seems my skills are truly extraordinary. The patient recovered without a single injection. That calls for a celebration."

Jessica could only stare at the floor, too afraid to look at George.

Edward was still hovering over Jessica, trying to comfort her. As George headed for the door, Edward called after him anxiously, "Doctor, does Jessica need any other medication?"

George was already at the doorway. He let out a short, scornful laugh.

"She doesn't have a fever. She's perfectly healthy. I made up the whole bipolar syndrome thing."

"Medication? If anyone needs medication here, it's you — for being blind to what's right in front of you."