Chapter 6 Fragile Threads

Keira stared at Sean, momentarily stunned.

Sean was one of the people in Aiden's social circle.

Unlike those who looked down on her and took pleasure in ridiculing her, he was different.

At the very least, he had never hurt her. Not once.

They hadn't interacted much, and later, he seemed to have gone abroad, disappearing from the scene for quite some time.

She never expected to encounter him here.

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. O'Neill," she replied softly, instinctively trying to conceal the medical reports in her hand.

Sean's keen eyes briefly scanned the documents in her hand and her pallid complexion.

He didn't press for details, though.

Instead, he said gently, "It's nothing. If you ever need help, you can—"

Before he could finish, Keira's phone rang again at the most inopportune moment.

It was Martha.

Keira's fingers trembled violently, nearly dropping the phone.

She didn't want to answer, but the ringtone persisted relentlessly, like a form of coercion.

Sean observed her quietly, making no move to leave.

She finally answered.

Martha's voice came through, furious and frantic. "Brandon is at our door now! He says you disrespected him by running out on that dinner, embarrassed him, and now he's demanding five million dollars in compensation! Five million! You need to fix this immediately! Go beg Aiden if you have to, or find some other executive—just get that money now! Or I swear I'll make you regret it!"

Keira's lips quivered, an overwhelming sense of despair and helplessness nearly crushing her.

Looking at the blurry world around her, listening to Martha's raging voice, she suddenly felt a desperate recklessness.

"Mom, I can't get the money. I'm sick. The doctor says I might die."

Her voice was faint, carrying an almost eerily calm resignation.

There was a pause on the other end, followed by even more vicious mockery and anger.

"Die? How could you possibly die? Keira, at least come up with a believable excuse! You weren't this delicate when you were with Aiden, but now you're dying when I ask you to do something for the family? Don't you dare fake illness! Go get that money now!"

The call ended abruptly.

Keira stood frozen, holding the phone.

Sean stood before her, witnessing all her despair and sorrow.

He observed how fragile she looked, as if she might shatter at the slightest touch, and a flash of pain crossed the depths of his eyes.

He slowly extended his hand, as if to comfort her, but ultimately only offered gentle words.

"Keira, don't listen to them. This will all pass."

He looked at her intently, as if seeing through her pale face to the kind-hearted girl she had once been.

Keira gazed blankly at the blurry shapes and lights ahead.

But her life seemed to have no foreseeable end to this darkness.

Only an endless night, slowly consuming her.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Neill. I should go now."

After leaving the hospital, Joshua pulled out his phone.

With a mischievous delight in stirring trouble, he called Aiden.

"Aiden, guess who I just saw at the hospital? Your ex-wife."

Joshua's tone was flippant. "Looking frail as a wisp, but not lacking a knight in shining armor. You know Sean, right? He nearly got in my face defending her. Seems your divorce was the right call—Keira is quite the operator, mastering the art of playing the victim to get sympathy."

Aiden remained silent on the other end.

The cigarette between his fingers burned down to the filter, singeing his skin before he suddenly snapped back to awareness.

An inexplicable anger flared up, burning in his chest.

The same Sean who had recently become a formidable presence in business circles, challenging him on several occasions?

On the surface, they moved in the same social circles, maintaining the expected civilities.

But how had he become involved with Keira? And defending her?

A difficult-to-articulate irritation and rage instantly gripped Aiden.

With barely a thought, he dialed Keira's number.

The phone rang for a long time before she answered.

Her voice was weak and hoarse, carrying a sickly exhaustion.

Something about that voice inexplicably intensified the fire in Aiden's heart. His tone turned cutting.

"You left some paintings here. Come get them tomorrow."

"I don't want them," she responded, her voice barely audible. "Just throw them away."

"If they're getting thrown out, you can do it yourself!" Aiden laughed coldly. "I'm not dirtying my hands."

Silence fell briefly on the other end, with only her strained breathing audible.

Aiden could almost visualize her biting her lip, eyes reddening but not daring to object.

"Alright." After a long moment, she finally uttered this single word, carrying a sense of resigned brokenness.

Aiden hung up irritably.

He had expected her to beg, to cry, to use this opportunity to cling to him again.

Instead, she had merely replied with "alright," leaving him feeling even more unsettled.

The next day, Keira struggled to rise from bed.

She fumbled for the medication the doctor had prescribed, swallowing several pills, hoping they would temporarily suppress her symptoms.

At least enough to give her strength for this one errand.

As the medication gradually took effect, the pain subsided slightly, but her head felt even foggier.

She took a taxi to what had been her home for a year—a place where she had never felt a moment of warmth.

Aiden was indeed waiting in the living room.

He wore a suit, lounging casually on the sofa.

Seeing her enter, his sharp gaze swept over her face, even paler and more haggard than before.

She moved slowly, her steps unsteady, as if a breeze could topple her.

Such fragility should have evoked compassion.

But remembering Joshua's words from yesterday, Aiden could not contain his irritation.

He deliberately examined her with a critical, cold gaze.

"What's this? Once out of the Coleman household, you can't even maintain your appearance? Who's this pitiful act for?"

Keira's heart felt as if it had been pierced by a needle, with fine, dense pain.

She lowered her head, letting her long hair hide her eyes as she said softly, "I came for the paintings."

Seeing her so submissive only irritated Aiden further.

He stood up and approached her, looking down at her imposingly.

"I know what's happening with the Lynn family. That Brandon isn't easy to handle, is he?"

He paused, with a kind of malicious condescension.

"If you beg me, considering our past marriage, I might consider helping you avoid such... desperation."

Keira suddenly raised her head, looking at him with disbelief.

Beg him? Beg this man who had trampled her dignity and driven her to the brink?

The pain in Keira's heart reached its peak, paradoxically bringing a kind of indescribable calm.

"No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Coleman." Her voice carried not a ripple of emotion. "I'll handle my own affairs."

"Handle them yourself?" Aiden scoffed, completely provoked by her response.

He yanked an expensive shirt from the coat rack, one he had just changed out of, and roughly shoved it into her arms.

"Fine! Then wash this shirt clean first! Right now!"

The shirt carried not only his characteristic cold cologne but also a sweet, feminine perfume.

It was the brand and scent that Zoey cherished and frequently wore.