Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress

Chapter 308: Exhausted

The drive from the hospital was heavy with silence.

The only sound inside the car was Genevieve’s quiet sobs. She sat beside Stefan in the front passenger seat, her face turned toward the window. Her shoulders shook now and then, and she kept wiping at her cheeks with her handkerchief.

Every now and then, Stefan would reach out and squeeze her hand, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

Abigail sat in the back seat beside Jamal. Her head rested on his shoulder, his fingers locked around her hand. Neither of them spoke. The road stretched ahead of them, dim under the fading light.

No one said a word the entire ride. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of Stefan’s condo, Stefan turned off the engine. The quiet that followed was deafening.

Stefan got out first, went around to open the door for Genevieve before going to the trunk, and began pulling out his and Genevieve’s luggage. Jamal stepped out too and walked around to open the door for Abigail.

Genevieve turned to face Abigail, "I’m sorry," she said in a broken voice. "I’m so sorry things went that way."

Abigail went to her and wrapped her arms around her. Genevieve broke down again, her tears wetting Abigail’s shoulder.

Abigail shook her head gently and stroked her back. "You don’t have to be sorry, Genny. Stop crying, okay? Or you’ll fall sick," Abigail whispered, holding her close.

Genevieve nodded weakly, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

At the other side of the car, Stefan shut the trunk and turned to Jamal. "What now?" he asked, his tone low and weary.

Jamal rubbed a hand over his face. "I don’t know," he said honestly. "I haven’t even processed any of it yet. This throws a wrench in everything."

Stefan’s jaw tightened. "The man was the darkest, most twisted man I’ve ever met," he said quietly. "I still can’t believe he would do that- take his own life right there in front of his son. In front of the girls he raised. What kind of man does that?"

Jamal sighed deeply. "I’m struggling to believe it myself," he said. "It’s been a long day. I just want to get Abigail home and let her rest. Genevieve doesn’t look too good herself."

Stefan looked over at Genevieve, who was still clinging to Abigail, and nodded slowly. "Yeah, she doesn’t."

Together they joined the ladies.

"Come on," Jamal said softly. "Let’s go home. They’re waiting."

Abigail gave Genevieve one last squeeze before pulling back. "Take care of her, Stefan."

"Sure. I will. You take care of yourself," Stefan said before taking their luggage and leading Genevieve toward the building.

The elevator ride to Stefan’s floor was silent except for the faint sniffles Genevieve tried to hide. Stefan kept glancing at her reflection in the mirror but said nothing.

When he imagined bringing her to his condo for the first time, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. As a matter of fact he regretted listening to her and cutting short their vacation. If only they’d not flown in today as she wanted, then she wouldn’t have had to witness such a thing.

When they stepped inside the condo Stefan set their luggage near the wall, and shut the door behind them before turning to her. Without saying a word, he pulled Genevieve into his arms.

Genevieve broke down again as he held her close. Her sobs came in waves, shaking her body.

"I know it doesn’t make sense to you that I’m crying this way after everything. I know he was mean to me," she whispered against his chest, her words tumbling out between hiccups. "But I didn’t hate him even if I should for using me that way. And what he did— it was the most awful thing. I keep seeing it in my head. I can’t—"

"Shh," Stefan whispered, rubbing slow circles on her back. "Stop talking. I need you to calm down."

He held her until the sobs grew quieter. Then he led her to the couch and sat down beside her.

"We can’t change what happened," he said softly. "At the end of the day, he made his choice. He chose himself."

Genevieve sniffled and looked down. "I feel even more sorry for Abigail," she murmured. "He didn’t even apologize to her. He didn’t take responsibility for anything. How’s she supposed to get closure? I suppose it’s up to me to do it now. He was more my father than he ever was to her or even Callan."

Stefan frowned gently. "Up to you to do what? What do you want to do?"

"I don’t know yet," she whispered. "I’ll figure it out. But right now, my head is pounding."

"Did you eat breakfast this morning?" he asked, allowing his concern for her wellbeing overshadow his curiosity over what she said.

She shook her head.

Stefan sighed softly. "Alright. Go freshen up. I’ll make you something quick. Maybe a sandwich. My housekeeper stocked the fridge earlier."

"I thought you said you didn’t have a housekeeper," she said, looking around the masculine apartment. It looked very organized and showed Stefan’s refined taste and style.

"He doesn’t live with me. He only runs errand when I can’t get them done because I’m busy," Stefan explained as he rose.

"I see. Your apartment looks nice," she said with a yawn.

"Thanks. Give me a moment to drop your luggage in your room and make sure everything is in place," he said as he took her luggage.

Stefan returned a short while later, "You can go now. It’s the first room on your right," he told her, and she nodded, feeling too tired to reply, it seemed like the jet lag was catching up with her finally coupled with all that had happened.

Stefan went to the kitchen to make a quick dinner. His thoughts were scattered as he worked quietly, his mind still reeling from the events of the day.

After setting two glasses of smoothie and a tray of sandwich on the table, he stepped into the living room, wondering why she wasn’t back yet.

He stopped short when he saw Genevieve fast asleep on the couch, still in the same clothes, her hair falling across her face.

He exhaled slowly, understanding that she was drained both physically and emotionally. He didn’t bother waking her since he doubted she’d have the appetite to eat even if he woke her. What she needed was rest.

He lifted her gently into his arms. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he took her to the bedroom.

"Rest," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he laid her on the bed. "You’ve cried enough for one day."

He pulled a blanket over her, kissed her forehead and turned off the light.