Ch. Called Off the Wedding 50 Called Off the Wedding 50

3 

Chapter 50 

“These trinkets are just for show, something to impress outsiders. There’s no need to spend a fortune on them. You eat Benedict’s food, live under his roof–don’t go expecting too much.“} 

Giselle’s face went pale, words catching in her throat. 

Lois shot her a scornful glance before striding over to the couch and sitting down, her posture radiating arrogance. 

She couldn’t control Cynthia, but surely she could intimidate Giselle.§ 

Giselle felt so wronged she wanted to burst into tears. She tried calling Benedict, desperate for him to come home, but he didn’t pick up. Meanwhile, after changing all the locks, Cynthia finally felt secure enough to make herself some dinner.} 

With Lois keeping Giselle company on the other side of the house, Benedict was at last free to go see Cynthia. 

He slid his key into the lock, but no matter how hard he turned, it wouldn’t budge.} 

After several failed attempts, it dawned on Benedict that Cynthia must have changed the locks. 

Why would she do that all of a sudden? He didn’t even need to ask–clearly, this was to keep him out. 

He’d already humbled himself so much, even tried to win her over by invoking his mother’s name. But she still wanted nothing to do with him. 

Frustration flared in his chest, and he started banging on the door, his temper barely in check.} 

“Cynthia! Open up! 

His shouting grated on the neighbors‘ nerves. One of them opened their door and snapped, “Keep it down! My kid’s doing homework!“}] 

Benedict swallowed his pride and didn’t argue, falling quiet for a moment. 

But he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood outside the door, pulled out his phone, and called Cynthia.” 

She didn’t answer. 

Ten minutes ticked by, and Benedict’s patience wore thin. 

Still, he forced down his anger, closed his eyes, and knocked again–this time with forced calm. 

“Grandma, Grandma, it’s me, Benedict. Could you come open the door for me?” 

He’d visited Cynthia’s grandmother a few times after picking Cynthia up from work. At this hour, the old woman was usually still awake. 

She cared deeply about appearances and hated being talked about by the neighbors. Benedict was sure she’d come open the door to avoid a scene.2 

Inside, Cynthia sat silently at the dining table, eating her dinner one slow bite at a time, her eyes red–rimmed.) 

Her grandmother would never open the door for anyone again. 

The neighbor’s child, trying to do homework, couldn’t focus with all the noise. Finally, the neighbor lost their temper, flinging open the door and glowering at Benedict. 

“She’s gone. It’s been ten days since the funeral. What are you still yelling for? Are you out of your mind?” 

Benedict’s hand froze mid–knock, dropping limply to his side.} 

“What did you say?“2 

The neighbor, who’d seen Benedict with Cynthia before and knew he was her boyfriend, frowned at his stunned, bewildered expression.} “The old lady passed away ten days ago. You really didn’t know?“} 

Benedict stood there, shell–shocked, the news rattling him to the core. 

He hadn’t known. 

No one had told him. 

He replayed his recent visits in his mind: the bedroom door always shut tight, the memorial photo hanging in the living room. Suddenly, everything made sense. 

No wonder Cynthia wouldn’t forgive him, no matter how much he tried to make amends or how humble he acted, 

She’d once told him her grandmother was her only family in the world. 

Losing her must have broken her heart. 

And what had he been doing during that time? 

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Chapter 50 

He’d been in another city, using a business trip as an excuse to take Giselle on a week–long getaway. 

Benedict stood frozen in the hallway, regret heavy in his eyes, his whole body rigid with remorse. 

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