Chapter 8

Delia felt her chest tighten with regret. In her past life, she'd been blind-pushed away the man who truly loved her in silence, and got played like a fool by Nathan and that venomous Isabelle. That mix of guilt and relief brought tears to her eyes. Curtis's fingers twitched slightly, unsure if he should reach out and wipe her tears away. She sniffled and rubbed her face messily with the back of her hand. "Curtis, I was a total jerk before. But from today on, I just wanna live properly with you." "And you...stop bottling everything up, okay? Don't keep everything to yourself." "I really love you. I never wanna see you all alone again." Curtis's heart skipped a beat. For a moment, reality felt shaky, like he wasn't quite awake. Was he dreaming? Otherwise, why would Delia say something so honest, so full of love? Off to the side, Noah and Edith shot each other a look, both stunned beyond words. Was this really the same Delia who used to treat Curtis like her worst enemy? Curtis didn't say anything, still staring at her in disbelief, but Delia didn't seem the least discouraged. She walked over, tears still on her face, and looked up at him. "Babe, say something, will you? I wanna hear your voice, wanna know what you're thinking. You're always so quiet, I can't read your mind..." Curtis was caught off guard by how close she got, and her words made his ears turn red. "...Right. I get it." He mumbled, awkwardly looking away. Noah kept a straight face but once again exchanged a worried glance with Edith. Delia hadn't done anything wrong yet. That wasn't the issue. What worried them was the way Curtis looked-like he'd already fallen all over again. Was he really letting her sweet words melt him just like that? If this was all an act...he'd end up heartbroken. Better to keep a closer eye on things, just in case. ***** Dinner finally wrapped up in a weird, kind-of-flirty vibe. Curtis had to discuss something with Noah in the study. Delia, though clearly reluctant, didn't make a fuss. She watched Curtis leave the dining room with Noah, took a deep breath, and turned to Edith, who'd been quietly standing by. "Edith, could you arrange to move my stuff back to the master bedroom?" Delia's tone was steady, but there was no mistaking the firmness beneath it. "I don't think it's healthy for a married couple to live separately for so long." Edith blinked, clearly taken aback, but she quickly composed herself and offered a respectful nod. "Of course, ma'am. Though-" She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Mr. Stockton actually instructed us not to touch anything in the master suite. He wanted everything left exactly as it was." "So all we'll need to do is move your day-to-day items and clothing. Nothing else has to change." Delia froze. Her breath hitched, and a flush of warmth rushed to her eyes. He hadn't moved a thing. He'd been waiting for her all along. Even after everything, even knowing she probably wouldn't come back, he'd still held on? That wave of bittersweet emotion hit her hard, nearly knocking the wind out of her. It hurt, realizing how foolish she'd been last time around-but at least now she had a chance to fix it. This second chance really was a gift from above. He never left. He just waited-quietly, patiently-for her to turn around. "...Got it." Her voice cracked a little. She pulled herself together, forced a smile, and looked at Edith. "Thanks. Please move it all back as soon as you can." This time, going back to that room wasn't just about where she slept. It was going home-to the man she loved. ***** In the study, the mood was heavy. Noah closed the door firmly, his usual respectful demeanor replaced by seriousness."Mr. Stockton, we've got the intel." "Talk," Curtis said, wheeling closer to his desk. "It wasn't easy-the site was cleaned up pretty thoroughly. But tracking the money trail gave us more than a few clues." Noah paused, a flash of disgust crossing his face. "It's Matthew again." Curtis sat quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. The light outlined his silhouette, cold and sharp-edged. Hearing that name, his eyes barely twitched, and his brows knitted slightly. A cold glint passed through his dark eyes. Matthew Stockton-his half-brother from his father's second marriage. Mediocre at best, sly as a snake, always eyeing Stockton Group like it was his birthright. Pulling shady moves wasn't new to him. But this time? The guy actually dared to go lethal. "Handle it," Curtis said calmly. "Those shell companies under his name? Time they got a wake-up call." "No need to make this incident obvious. Just keep him too busy cleaning up his own mess." "Yes, sir," Noah replied, already plotting the plan out in his head. Matthew had been playing games with Curtis for a while now. They'd gotten pretty practiced at clapping back. "I'll keep it low-key, make sure he's running around like a headless chicken. He won't have time to stir the pot again for a while." Honestly, he'd had it with that do-nothing party boy who stabbed Curtis in the back when no one was looking. Their previous attempts to shut him down weren't strong enough. That always sat wrong with Noah. Matthew kept crossing lines, and Curtis turned a blind eye more often than not. Which only made the guy cockier-until now. This time, they were going to hit him where it hurt. Once business was handled, silence settled in the study. Noah glanced at Curtis's worn-out profile and hesitated before speaking. "Sir, can I ask you something?" "Go ahead," Curtis said, lifting his head. Noah drew a breath, then spit it out. "Why are you so invested in Delia?" "What do you mean?" Curtis's brows creased. Sensing his boss's mood shift, Noah corrected himself, but the questioning tone stayed. "You know what she used to be like. I saw it all, and honestly, I couldn't stand it. Now she's acting like a whole different person. It's... off." "Noah," Curtis cut in, voice suddenly cold. "She's my wife. The woman of this household." "I expect you to remember that, along with what she's owed in respect." His tone was sharp, no room for argument. Noah froze, the rest of his warning stuck in his throat. He lowered his eyes, muttering, "Understood." But deep down, he was fuming. Why did that woman deserve this level of protection from Curtis? Curtis turned his wheelchair toward the window, the night outside casting a quiet shadow over him. After a long pause, his voice was calm again. "I know it might just be an act. She might go back to her old ways eventually." "But even so, I still can't..." His words trailed off, ending in a faint, bitter laugh. Curtis couldn't turn away from the tenderness Delia showed now. Was it self-inflicted poison, or a lifeline? He knew how real her hatred had been in the past. Now all the warmth she gave felt wrong and out of place. His brain screamed this was a trap, while his heart couldn't help but cling to it. He was diving in, fully aware he might drown. Noah looked at Curtis's lonely silhouette, full of conflict. All he could do was let out a long sigh. At the end of the day, he just hoped Delia truly cared about Curtis this time.