A silent sigh of relief escaped Mark.

He poured her a cup of fine green tea. A kind she didn't mind.

She accepted without objection.

Once she finished eating, Cecilia cut to the chase, saying, "Mr. Evans, our dinner is done. Time for your investment, yes?"

No desire for a spat, Mark handed her the check. Cecilia glanced at it. 8@ million dollars.

She expressed her thanks and made to leave, but Mark caught her hand.

Beneath the crystalline luminescence, he gazed into her eyes, his voice earnest.

"Cecilia, how long will you stay mad at me?"

Her lips quivered, no words forthcoming.

He released her hand with gentle resignation.

Frustration gnawing at him, he longed for a smoke.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a calm veneer.

"Cecilia, I've wronged you, I know. And I feel your resentment. I've lived these years, risking everything for you, our kids. I've earned your coldness, but I'm aging, Cecilia. I wanna do everything to care for you and our family while I still can. If we prolong this, I fear it'll be too late."

His gaze held her. Her vitality contrasted his concealed fear of aging.

He never dared let her see the insecurity shadowing his pride. The fear that standing next to her, he'd invite judgment, bring her grief.

It wasn't reluctance to chase her, but a cruel race against time.

Cecilia's heart sank.

She wanted to forgive him, to grasp his hand, to say she bore no grudge.

But she couldn't.

She departed in tears, unaware Mark mirrored her sorrow...