The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride

him?”

There was silence for a moment.

Damon walked over to Chloe and ushered her to sit beside him on the couch. “If you don’t wanna hear it, just go

upstairs and bring him down. No one’s stopping you.”

“Damon.” Chloe grasped his hand, not in agreement.

But Cicely stayed put. She was supposed to bring him down? Nobody told her she had to!

Seeing Cicely unmoved, Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and spoke up.

“Ms. Cicely didn't want to see him, and he tried everything to spring her from jail, but then all news of her was

locked down tight. Ms. Cicely was determined to serve her time, and at first, he seemed unfazed.

“The media had a field day, claiming he was the one who had her locked up. The online backlash was relentless.

| know Mr. Diaz doesn’t care about gossip, but then the financial hardships started.

“Diaz Tower needed a rebuild, but the banks called in their loans. C&P Entertainment was hit hard by public

opinion, all contracts with their talent were frozen, production deals were stalled, and money was sunk with no

returns. Without the funds for Diaz Tower's rebuild or to repay the bank loans, there were sharks circling to buy

out Diaz International, including the land Diaz Tower stood on, offering dirt-cheap prices. Mr. Diaz said the deal

wasn’t done; he didn’t agree, and in the end...”

Charlie paused to collect himself before continuing. “Later on, Mr. Diaz sold the Diaz family estate.”

Cicely’s eyes flickered involuntarily, and her poised figure on the couch stiffened.

“As you all might know, the Diaz family had lived there for generations. Despite renovations, it was the Diaz

family’s roots. And it sold for a hefty price due to its prlocation. But it was nowhere near enough to rebuild

Diaz International or pay back the bank. Mr. Diaz worked tirelessly, wining and dining, ending up in the ER

several times from overdrinking, just to negotiate with the banks and scrape together enough to start rebuilding

the tower we see today.

“The mess at C&P Entertainment wasn’t resolved when the Ellis family had a shake-up. Sshareholders

banded together, trying to oust the Ellis family from power. Between the overt pressure and underhanded

tactics, Mr. Diaz was also wrestling with everyone.

“That year, no, those months, were utter chaos. What I'm telling you is just the tip of the iceberg; there were

layers of other problems.

“During that hectic time, | thought the incident with Ms. Cicely going to jail was being forgotten.

“He was too busy, and life was too hard. Mr. Diaz had no spare moment to dwell on unchangeable facts or a

woman who despised him. He was always composed, never mentioning you, even indifferent when others did. |

thought getting past that chaos without a scratch wasn’t a bad thing, but two months later, when things started

settling down, he began to withdraw, staying away from the office, eventually shutting himself in his room. At

first, he was still dealing with company paperwork, but then he stopped caring about that too. | was worried he'd

starve, so | shoved glucose and water through his door, reminding him daily to eat and drink.

“It was only later | realized what | thought was transition wasn’t. He just hadn't had the tto think about you.

Then it hit me, Mr. Diaz fought to keep Diaz International because you wanted it; he intended to present it to you

as a wedding gift. He fought for the Ellis family, ignored C&P Entertainment, let it fend for itself.

“I don’t know what he was thinking, locked away. Was it guilt over your father and Isaac’s deaths, or was he

feeling your prison sentence was your way of getting back at him, proving how much you hated him? Or was he

still figuring out how to be with you again.

“He was holed up for a month, unreachable. If Erik hadn't fallen critically ill, who knows, he might've died in that

room.”

Cicely slumped into the couch with the sposture as before, but now utterly drained. Her gaze was hollow as

she stared at the spotless coffee table. In her clasped hands, now clammy with cold sweat, her fingers twitched

unconsciously.

Beside her, Damon frowned. “You didn’t knock the door down?”

Before Charlie could respond, Kane, somewhat agitated, chimed in. “Knock it down? | told you what happened

last time. No sooner had | finished speaking than that jerk opened the door and started wailing onwithout a

word. Damn near killed me.”

Charlie added, “Everything in here was handpicked by Ms. Cicely, including that door. It was her choice.”

The living room fell silent, five people lost in their thoughts, until Kane let out a snort, breaking the stillness.

After a moment, Charlie glanced at Cicely, who remained impassive, her gaze lowered. He pursed his lips and

said, “I won't go into details, as | suspect Ms. Cicely isn’t in the mood to hear more. But this time, I think the

reason behind all this is still Ms. Cicely. Recently, Mr. Diaz hadlift the travel ban that had been placed on her

aunt. Ms. Lana has been back for a couple of weeks, and Mr. Diaz has been increasingly agitated. I'm guessing

he’s worried that you might take your son and leave with Mrs. Lana.”

It was a tug-of-war within him; he wanted her free yet didn’t want her to leave.

Chloe's grip tightened ever so slightly, her emotions battling within her. What would happen if things continued

this way?

Three years ago, it was Erik who suddenly becseriously ill, and Seth survived for three years to get

Danielle's blood.

But what about this time? There wouldn't be another illness, nor any desire for someone else's blood. So, what to

do next?

After much thought, Chloe agreed with Charlie's approach. It was all up to Cicely now.

Chole glanced at Cicely, who hadn't moved an inch, her head still lowered, and her expression unreadable. Chloe

couldn’t say anything; after all, it wasn’t her place to meddle too much in other people’s affairs.

All eyes were on Cicely, waiting for her to make the next move.

Kane was the most impatient, and seeing her unmoved, his brow knitted tightly. “Cicely, you're just going to sit

there?”

“So what?” Cicely finally responded, lifting her eyes, her face a mask of calm. “He'll cout for me, right? And

then what? To prevent this from happening again, should | remarry him?”

Kane blinked.

Damon nodded, “That would be best.”

Silence fell over the room.

Kane's mouth fell open, and he gave Damon a thumbs-up. Impressive. Was that sarcasm?

Cicely chuckled, “You think that would work?”

Damon hummed in affirmation, “I do. Your father passed because of his heart condition, and his mother died out

of her obsessive love and hatred towards your father. If we must talk about grievances, they stem from issues

the older generation failed to resolve, leaving you and Seth as victims at most.”

Her words gave Cicely pause, then she scoffed mockingly, “Mr. Harper sure has a way with shifting blame.”

“It's not about shifting blame, but recognizing the multiple facets of every situation. The most important thing is

to choose what makes you happiest. Why trap yourself in the most torturous path when there’s a brighter, more

liberating choice? Only fools would do that.”

Cicely stared him down, the cold smile on her face slowly fading. “All of this started because of his mother. My

dad never loved her, and the so-called grievances were her provocations alone.”

Damon remained composed, “Yes, exactly. It’s like you choosing to go to prison voluntarily; you could use your

suffering to get back at Seth. Don’t be surprised if others lose their sanity over emotions too. You could keep this

standoff with him, and maybe in a few years, your son will get a taste of these ‘family grievances."”

Cicely’s eyes trembled fiercely.

Kane internally exclaimed in shock. Everyone knew better than to judge others’ affairs, let alone offer such

leading advice. But Damon's words were on point. That was just Damon for you.

Cicely searched her mind for a comeback, but found none. “If you were him and Chloe was me, would you still

believe what you're saying?”

“I'd do anything—chase, steal, or deceive. Any tactic is fair as long as she’s mine, and by my side as | wish.

What's right? Getting what | want is right. Letting her go, torturing myself like he’s doing now? Since when did he

aspire to be a saint?”

Kane couldn't help but laugh. Had Damon developed a smooth-talking routine from all his wife-charming?

In such a serious atmosphere, it was something to be able to make Kane crack a smile. Damon shot him a look

that immediately stifled the laughter.

Cicely was stunned by his rhetoric and then slowly turned to look at Chloe.

Chloe met her gaze with a smile, softly saying, “We aren’t you guys. Knowing he loves me, | wouldn't let things

get to where you are today. Besides, | wouldn't give him up to any other woman. The one I love and cherish

should stay by my side. I think no one in this world can claim a purer love for him than me, and I'm the one who

wishes him the best. This trust, | only give to myself.”

Damon, sitting next to Chloe, smiled and took her hand into his large, warm palm. “What a coincidence, so do I.”

Chloe smiled at Cicely, “How did you ever cto choose him so resolutely? When you decided to go to prison,

did you have any doubts, or were you certain that no one in the world could love him more than you?”

Cicely blinked uncontrollably, a gesture betraying her agitation. It took Cicely a moment to compose herself

before she let out a derisive snort and stood up.

“You two are such a powerful duo. | can’t argue with you guys.”

With those words, Cicely spun around and marched upstairs.

*

Standing at the bedroom door, Cicely gazed at the closed barrier before her, not moving an inch forward. How

could they simplify and beautify their words so easily, she wondered.

Seth locked oneself away in a bedroom for over a month - quite impressive indeed.

Tseemed to stretch on endlessly until Kane, who had been sneaking glances, could stand it no longer. He

strode forward and rapped sharply on the door several times before darting away like a scalded cat.

Cicely sighed.

Kane's pounding elicited no response. Behind the door, there was only silence.

Inside, by the bed, neat rows of glucose bottles and a collection of potent spirits were on display. Seth slumped

against the bed, one leg bent, his arm resting on his knee and his head buried in the crook of his elbow,

motionless. Even Kane's sudden loud and urgent knocking failed to stir him. It was as if he were a breathless

statue, devoid of life, sitting there.

After what felt like an eternity, a series of knocks echoed again. They were gentle, rhythmic, but soft. Still, Seth

made no move.

Two minutes passed, and then a voice, tranquil as water, seeped through the thick door, slightly muffled. “Seth.”

The man on the floor, who had been utterly still, suddenly twitched his hand.

Slowly, he lifted his head, staring blankly into the empty room, his dark eyes momentarily fixed.

Another illusion? She couldn't possibly be...

“Seth, open up.”

His train of thought shattered, Seth turned his head towards the door, his eyes bloodshot. He hesitated for just a

moment before pushing himself up with the help of the bed. Having sat for too long, and perhaps due to the

alcohol, he felt dizzy as he stood, swaying slightly.

Cicely, losing patience after being ignored a second time, frowned and lifted her foot to kick the door. But just as

she did, the door swung open. Her kick met air, and she stumbled forward. In a panic, she reached for the

doorframe, but still collided with the man’s chest. Her slender waist was immediately ensnared by his firm grip.

Regaining her composure, Cicely straightened up and looked up into the weary, disheveled face of the man who

was staring at her in surprise, his eyes reflecting unmasked tension and bewilderment.

Cicely paused, noting his crumpled black shirt. Despite his disarray, he still exuded an air of refined elegance.

Her voice was cool and detached when she said, “Everyone thought you died in there.”

Kane, who had been lurking at the stairwell, gritted his teeth and murmured: “Others might pound on the door to

no avail, but Cicely’s soft calls seem to prove his hearing is still sharp.”

Chloe leaned forward to see Cicely half-tumble into the room.

“Let's go,” said Damon, tightening his grip around Chloe's waist and leading her downstairs.

“They...”

Damon stopped and looked down into Chloe's eyes, “We've already meddled too much, Mrs. Harper.”

Chloe couldn't deny that, although it seemed that he had a personal bias, such as siding with Cicely. It was true,

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“That's your friend. He seems to be worse off right now.”

Damon looked away and continued to lead her downstairs, “It’s none of our business.”

Chloe pursed her lips. Damon picked up a scarf from the couch and draped it around her neck. “A hundred of us

can’t compare to just one Cicely. Why would you stay?”

Chloe found the logic sound. She glanced around, then turned to Kane, who was still “spying” from the staircase

corner. “Isn't he in the way here?”

Damon looked over.

Kane suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

*

“No.” Seth responded to Cicely’s harsh words, his voice hoarse, his gaze locked on her beautiful features.

Cicely studied him for a moment, her frown deepening, then looked away, her voice cold. “Let go of me.”

As she spoke, his hand tightened involuntarily on her waist.

Cicely pushed against his chest, forcing him back. Already weakened from days of neglect and unguarded, he

staggered a few steps backward. His eyes wavered, following her, but she just walked past him with an air of

indifference, into the room filled with the heavy scent of alcohol.

She scanned the room, her gaze finally resting on the bottles of spirits by the bed, pausing for a second before

lifting her eyes to the man approaching her again.

“Stay away from me.” Her voice was icy, and Seth halted, looking at her with a mix of confusion and

helplessness.

After a few seconds, taking in her undisguised disgust, he stepped back. “I'm sorry, I'll take a shower.”

Cicely said nothing, slowly walking to the bedroom window. Seth watched her from behind, hesitating before he

finally decided to head into the bathroom.

When the sound of the shower filled the space, Cicely moved, leaning on the wide windowsill adorned with

various objects, all covered with small black cloths. She reached out and pulled off one of the cloths, revealing a

sunflower ornament with two bees circling it.

Her eyes trembled slightly. She had bought many solar-powered ornaments because the bedroom was so well-lit.

This one, when fully charged, would make the two tiny bees circle the sunflower. The remaining black cloths

likely covered more ornaments from years ago.

The windowsill was immaculate, and the ornaments she had placed there three years ago looked as if they were

brand new. If it weren't for the protective black cloth, they would have probably decayed from the sunlight long

ago.

She parted the cluster of sunflowers just enough to reveal a smaller one nestled within, and upon it lingered two

tiny bees, so very small.

Cicely closed her eyes for a moment, pushing down the wave of bitterness that threatened to rise within her.

That proud yet naive Cicely from years past had a mind consumed by love for one person, every thought a

wishful fancy, every action a tender consideration born from that love. How delighted had she been back then,

over such a trivial thing?

*

Seth emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp. He now dressed in comfortable lounge clothes. Gone was

his earlier dishevelment, replaced by a much fresher appearance. His gaze had been tense all day, but upon

setting eyes on Cicely standing by the window, it began to soften.

“Why did you come?”

Cicely turned, tilting her head back to look at him. Her eyes seemed to scrutinize him judiciously, and Seth

visibly tensed as she expressionlessly withdrew her gaze before he took a few slow steps toward her.

His approach caused a flicker in Cicely’s eyes. She turned away from him, reaching up to cover the sunflower

ornament with the black cloth again. She could feel the damp warmth of his body drawing near until he finally

cto a standstill behind her.

“Your faithful assistant and your buddies were worried you'd met your demise in this house, so they begged me

to check on you.”

She withdrew her hand, and immediately, a broad chest pressed against her back, his arms locking her firmly in

place. His hoarse, moisture-laden voice whispered in her ear, “They requested, and you came. So you're worried

about me, aren't you?”

Cicely’s eyes narrowed, her body motionless. “No.”

Seth held her even tighter.

“Letgo.”

He buried his face in the nape of her neck, greedily inhaling her scent. “Then why are you here?”

His cool lips grazed her skin with each word, like tender kisses.

Cicely tensed, his question igniting an inexplicable irritation within her. “I was hungry, and | was on my way

hfor lunch. Your assistant divertedhere.” The answer was half-true, half-false.

The man who had been holding her tightly suddenly let go. “You haven't had lunch yet? Wait here, I'll make you

something.”

Cicely bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t like eating alone.”

Seth paused for a moment, his dark eyes fixating on her again. “I'll eat with you. Is that alright?”