Forbidden Love: My "Adoptive Father" Who Stole My Heart

At the high-society Kirby family's opulent banquet celebrating their cherished daughter Cathleen Kirby's first birthday, amidst a mountain of gifts from guests, the little girl suddenly reached out and tightly gripped the hand of Jerald Dobson-her father's close friend, despite the considerable age difference between them.

Everyone laughed, jesting that this meant Jerald would have to look after her for life.

Later, a devastating fire engulfed the Kirby Estate, claiming the lives of the entire family, except the eldest son, Gabriel Kirby, and the youngest daughter, Cathleen.

The relatives watched them like hawks, eager to control the two children to devour their assets.

Jerald took Gabriel abroad for training and kept Cathleen by his side, guiding her personally.

From that day forward, the only person in Cathleen's world was Jerald.

...

The autumn leaves were swept up by the winds of Cuwheau.

Cathleen stared at her phone screen, where Gabriel Gabriel's face appeared, and felt a pang of sorrow spreading from her heart.

The man in the video wore a tailored suit, his eyes filled with the same worry they held ten years ago when he left the airport with red-rimmed eyes.

"Cathleen, I've already asked my assistant to book your flight for next month. The villa you like has been renovated in the classic style you mentioned before. I'm sure you'll love it." Gabriel said.

Cathleen tried to curl her lips into a relaxed smile, but she couldn't quite manage it. "Gabriel, you don't have to go to all this trouble."

"How could this possibly be trouble for me?" Gabriel's brow furrowed. "Haven't you endured enough in Cuwheau all these years? Now that our family's business is well-established in Snuebia and North Asnyae, whether you want to attend a prestigious art school or travel the world, I can make it happen for you."

He paused, softening his tone, "Remember how you always said you wanted to attend a concert in Whoedan when you were little?"

Of course, she remembered.

Back then, she was only eight, lying on Jerald's lap watching a documentary about music festivals of Snuebia, pointing at the screen and declaring she would one day see it in person.

Hearing that, Jerald had smiled, ruffling her hair gently, "When you grow up, I will take you."

Everyone said Jerald spoiled her so much.

He would even move heaven and earth for her.

Reflecting on the past, her heart felt as though it was being squeezed tightly.

Cathleen quickly lowered her eyes, afraid that her tears would fall and worry Gabriel.

"I remember," she murmured, her voice slightly muffled.

Gabriel was silent for a few seconds on the other end of the video, choosing his words carefully.

"Cathleen," he finally spoke again, his tone cautious, "You and Jerald... I know you've had a hard time these years."

Cathleen's fingers clenched abruptly, her nails digging into her palms, spreading a prickly pain.

She could imagine Gabriel feeling both helpless and heartbroken.

That year's devastating fire burned down the Kirby Estate and also destroyed the carefree childhood she should have had.

It was Jerald who carried her, injured, out of the fire, who withstood the pressure from the relatives of the Kirby family to secure the inheritance of Gabriel and Cathleen, who taught her to read and write step by step.

But somewhere along the line, her gratitude transformed.

Was it when she was fifteen and had a fever, and Jerald stayed by her bedside all night, and she accidentally touched his warm wrist?

Or was it on her eighteenth birthday when he gifted her a cello, saying that one day the whole world would hear her music?

She couldn't remember.

Love had quietly taken root, and by the time she realized it, it was already deep and abiding.

"Gabriel," Cathleen took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound calm, "I know what you want to say."

"Jerald has done so much for us, and I will never forget it," Gabriel's voice was heavy, "But emotions can't be forced because of gratitude. He sees you as a niece, as a junior to care for, you can't..."

"I'm not forcing it," Cathleen interjected, her voice rising in panic before she quickly realized her mistake and softened her tone, "Gabriel, I understand. I will tell Jerald about my decision to leave myself."

Cathleen looked out at the falling autumn leaves and suddenly felt her eyes sting. She sniffed, smiling at the screen, "Gabriel, I promise I'll come next month. And then... you have to take me to the best steakhouse in Aflait."

"Alright," Gabriel finally laughed, "I'll order as much as you want."

After ending the video call, the room fell silent.

Cathleen slowly crouched down, burying her face in her knees, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

She knew Gabriel meant well, and that Jerald's kindness was not love. But her feelings had grown like vines, threatening to suffocate her.

She raised her hand to touch her lips, recalling how last night she had felt like a thief stealing others' happiness-yet in that stolen moment, she tasted the tenderest affection.

Was leaving in a month truly the best decision?

Cathleen didn't know.

She only knew that the thought of leaving Jerald felt like a piece of her heart was being hollowed out, a pain that was hard to bear.

Hearing the sound of the door opening downstairs, Cathleen quickly wiped her tears and picked up the prepared coffee, rushing downstairs.

One glance, and she stood rooted to the spot, thunderstruck.

The coffee cup was burning hot in Cathleen's hand, yet she seemed to have lost all sensation, her eyes were glued to the two figures at the entrance.

Jerald, dressed in a dark gray trench coat, stood tall. His usually immaculate tie was half undone, as if he had just been through something.

Beside him was Evelina Lambert, her head slightly tilted as she listened to him speak.

Evelina was the principal cellist of the state orchestra, someone Cathleen had encountered three years ago at the national instrumental competition.

Back then, Evelina had competed alongside her.

As the youngest musician in the event, Cathleen had taken home the gold medal.

Those eyes, once filled with jealousy as they looked at her, appeared again.

Evelina scrutinized her with a critical eye, sizing her up as if she was a mere commodity.

"Jerald, who is this?" Evelina's voice was gentle, affectionately linking her arm with Jerald's.

Cathleen's heart tightened painfully.

She saw Jerald's gaze sweep over herself, eyes that once looked at her with such fondness now seemed so indifferent.

"The daughter of a deceased friend," he said flatly, revealing no emotion, "staying here temporarily."

His words stabbed Cathleen's heart with sharp pain.

She recalled the previous night when he returned home drunk, leaning against the doorframe, alcohol on his breath, his eyes hazy as he gazed at her.

She had felt her soul drawn to him, stepping forward to kiss the corner of his lips, tasting the spicy whiskey.

He hadn't pushed her away, just sighed softly, burying his head in her neck, his breath warm.

So, she was just "the daughter of a deceased friend" for him.

Cathleen's throat ached, rendering her speechless.

Yet, she didn't want to appear so pathetic in front of the person she loved.

"Jerald," she managed to say with difficulty, "I made coffee."

Evelina chimed in, "Ah, I'm sorry to trouble you. Jerald, this girl is quite thoughtful."

As she spoke, she walked past Cathleen, her gaze lingering momentarily on Cathleen's slightly reddened eyes before turning back to Jerald. "Shall we go upstairs? We were just getting started."

Cathleen's breath caught.

She hadn't dared to look at the red mark on Jerald's neck just now.

She was just fooling herself.

Now, with Evelina's blunt comment, Cathleen felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her lung.

Jerald nodded, not sparing Cathleen a glance, and followed Evelina upstairs.

Cathleen stood frozen until the sound of footsteps disappeared at the top of the stairs. Only then did she slowly crouch down, tears falling like a string of pearls, hitting the floor one by one.

From upstairs drifted the soft, breathy moans of Evelina.

Cathleen suddenly remembered her eighteenth birthday when Jerald had presented her with a handcrafted cello.

"Cathleen," he had said, "you will become the world's finest cellist."

But now, he had another woman who played the cello.

Cathleen remained silent. She had only a month left before she had to leave. By then, everything here, including Jerald and Evelina beside him, would have nothing to do with her.

But why, then, did her heart ache so much?

At two in the morning, the intermittent sounds from upstairs continued to fray Cathleen's sensitive nerves.

Curled up in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a thick blanket, she still felt cold.

Each breath felt like fire in her lungs, and everything before her eyes spun.

She didn't know how she endured those hours.

The sounds from upstairs pierced her ears like needles, causing her insides to ache.

Cathleen struggled to her feet.

She leaned against the wall, painstakingly making her way upstairs.

With each step she took, the sounds grew clearer, and her heart throbbed with pain.

Finally, she stood at Jerald's bedroom door.

It wasn't fully closed, leaving a gap through which the intimate atmosphere was suffocating for her.

Evelina lay on Jerald, kissing him, as his hand clasped the back of her head, responding fervently.

Cathleen took a deep breath, mustering all her strength to knock on the door.

A dissatisfied murmur came from inside, and the door opened.

Jerald was wearing a bathrobe. When he saw Cathleen standing at the door, her face ashen and her whole body trembling, a hint of panic flickered in his eyes. "Cathleen? What's wrong?"

"Jerald..." Cathleen's voice was faint as she raised her feverish hand to grasp Jerald's sleeve. "I have a fever. I feel terrible... Can you take me to the hospital?"

Jerald reached out to touch her forehead. The scorching temperature made him furrow his brows tightly.

"It's severe." His tone was tense as he turned to get the car keys. "You should have told me sooner."

At that moment, Evelina emerged from the bedroom, wearing Jerald's shirt, the hem slumped suggestively over her thighs.

She insisted on going to the hospital with them. "Jerald, you're a man. How could you possibly know how to take care of a girl? I'll go with you."

With that, Evelina quickly changed clothes and affectionately wrapped an arm around Cathleen as they headed out.

Halfway to the hospital, Evelina's phone suddenly rang.

She glanced at the screen, and her face immediately turned anxious. "Yes? What? What's wrong with Snowball? ... Okay, I'll be right there!"

Hanging up, Evelina clutched Jerald's arm urgently. "Jerald, my cat is sick. The vet said it's serious. Can you take me there?"

Jerald frowned, looking between the pale and trembling Cathleen and the anxious Evelina, his gaze wavering between the two.

Cathleen's heart sank deeper.

She slumped weakly against the icy car window, looking at Jerald, her voice tinged with tears. "Jerald, I feel so awful..."

Jerald's eyes fell on her fever-flushed face, his throat moved as if he wanted to say something.

But in the end, he just took a deep breath, avoiding her gaze, his tone apologetic. "Cathleen, get out of the car for now. I'll have a friend come pick you up and take you to the hospital."

Cathleen looked at him in disbelief, tears instantly blurring her vision. "Jerald, are you really going to take her?"

Jerald didn't answer, just pulled out his phone from his pocket as if to make a call.

At that moment, Cathleen felt her world completely collapse.

She watched the man who once cherished her, choosing to abandon her in her most vulnerable moment for another woman. Her heart felt as if it was being torn in half. That moment was no less painful than when she was trapped in the raging fire that year.

"No need." Cathleen suddenly smiled. "Jerald, go ahead. I can manage on my own."

She got out of the car and hailed a taxi.

Each step felt like walking on shards of glass, the pain almost causing her to pass out.

She knew that from this moment on, things between her and Jerald could never return to the way they were before.

A cold realization swept over her, chilling her to the bone.

Cathleen felt her consciousness growing increasingly faint.

It seemed as if she was once again back in her childhood, in the midst of that blazing fire, crying out for Jerald as he rushed through the smoke to hold her tightly.

Back then, he promised to protect her forever.

But now, for the sake of Evelina's cat, he left Cathleen burning with fever on the roadside in the dead of night.

The next moment, Cathleen slipped into darkness.

The hospital's disinfectant smell was overwhelming.

Cathleen had been afraid of hospitals since she was a child.

After a while, her eyelashes fluttered.

She opened her eyes to see an IV drip dangling above, the clear liquid slowly dripping down the tube and into the back of her hand.

A chill ran through her.

"You're awake?" A familiar voice sounded by her ear. Cathleen turned her head to see Jerald sitting in the chair by her bed, his brows knitted, his eyes bloodshot.