Chapter 86
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THE minute Amelia entered her room, she carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, her hand brushing her forehead. But before she could even settle in properly, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by the slow creak as it opened.
“Amelia?” Mrs. Harlow’s familiar voice came through as she stepped in, her eyes darting to her daughter with concern. “Aren’t you enjoying his services now p>
Amelia raised her head and frowned in confusion.
“Who p>
Mrs. Harlow gave her a pointed look, stepping further inside.
“Ryan, of course. Look how he has lessened work for you. Always hovering around, carrying things, making sure you are comfortable. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed p>
Amelia gave a small laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back against the headboard.
“Oh mommy, I’m not ready for this now,” she said softly, though amusement lingered in her tone.
Her mother scoffed, folding her hands across her chest.
“Not ready? No, my dear, it is not that you aren’t ready- it is that you are just too stubborn to say thank you to me p>
Amelia let out a louder laugh this time, tilting her head toward her mother.
“Thank you for what, exactly p>
Mrs. Harlow lifted her chin.
“For letting him into your space. For encouraging him to be close enough to help you the way he does. If not for me insisting, you would have pushed him away like you intended to p>
Amelia chuckled again, shaking her head.
“Mom, you and your matchmaking instincts. I didn’t push him away because he is my personal assistant, nothing more. Let’s not start dragging meanings where there are none p>
Her mother gave her a sly smile, but just as Amelia was about to continue teasing, Mrs. Harlow’s face suddenly shifted. The smile disappeared, her eyes dimmed, and her lips pressed into a thin line,
Amelia, instantly noticing, leaned forward.
“Mommy… what is it?” she asked, concern dripping from her tone.
Mrs. Harlow hesitated, twisting her fingers together before finally letting out a sigh.
“Claire has been itching to hear from you,” she said quietly.
Amelia’s entire countenance shifted. Her laughter died instantly, replaced by a deep sigh and a sharp roll of her eyes. Her jaw tightened, her nose flared, and all the warmth that had been in the room evaporated in a second.
“Really, mom?” she muttered bitterly, leaning back against the headboard and crossing her arms.
“Yes, really,” her mother replied, voice tinged with a gentle pleading.
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Amelia’s eyes darkened with anger as she shook her head.
“I don’t want to hear about this. Not again p>
“Amelia p>
“No, mom!” Amelia snapped, her voice firm, but laced with suppressed hurt. “I’m not ready for this conversation p>
Mrs. Harlow moved closer, her face softening.
“Please, my dear, please. Remember, we both wronged you. I know, and you have forgiven me. But what about her? What about Claire? She has been restless, waiting, hoping. She is your sister, Amelia. Please, my daughter. That soft heart you do have, please let it work this time p>
Amelia clenched her fists, her chest heaving as she tried to contain the emotions rising within her. Her eyes glistened, but she blinked hard, refusing to let tears fall.
“Mom…” she said in a low, trembling voice. “That girl… she assisted in breaking my home. She destroyed my marriage. And for what? Jealousy? Envy? I did nothing to her. Nothing, except being good to her. I treated her like my blood, I gave her everything within my reach, and she paid me back by stabbing me where it hurt the most p>
“I know,” Mrs. Harlow whispered, nodding slowly, her own eyes beginning to water. “I know, my daughter. You are right. But please… please, for me. Don’t let bitterness eat you alive p>
Amelia’s lips trembled as she looked away, her voice cold.
“I don’t want to hear it, mommy. Not now. Not today. I have carried too much already p>
“Please…” Mrs. Harlow whispered again, her hands outstretched.
But Amelia had had enough. With a sharp sigh, she pushed herself off the bed, her face hardened with anger. Without another word, she dragged her weak body toward the bathroom. The more her mother pleaded, the more she quickened her steps, until she disappeared inside and slammed the door gently behind her.
Mrs. Harlow stood there, helpless, watching her daughter retreat. Within seconds, the hiss of running water filled the silence, drowning out her voice and her pleas. She placed her hand on her chest, her heart heavy, and sighed deeply.
“She is still hurting,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head. Then, with a final glance at the closed bathroom door, Mrs. Harlow quietly turned and walked out of the room, leaving Amelia to her solitude and the sound of rushing water that seemed to mask her pain.
Adrian was seated in his office, the quiet hum of the air conditioner blending with the rapid clicks of his fingers across the laptop keys. His gaze was locked on the glowing screen, spreadsheets and documents scattered across in endless tabs. The tension in his jaw betrayed how much he had buried himself in work, using it as a shield from his restless thoughts.
Suddenly, the phone beside him buzzed, vibrating against the polished wooden desk. Without tearing his eyes from the laptop, he reached out, swiped, and pressed it to his ear.
“Yes?” His tone was brisk, clipped, the typical voice of a man still lost in his work.
A pause, then a familiar voice came through, low and urgent.
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“Hello, boss… we saw your wife p>
For a split second, Adrian froze, his eyes still fixed on the screen but no longer reading a thing. Slowly, he sat upright, closing the laptop halfway as his heart gave a sharp thud.
“You what?” His voice was tight, demanding.
“Yes, we did,” the voice repeated with certainty. “And there is something else p>
Adrian’s grip on the phone tightened. He pushed the laptop aside completely now, leaning forward in his chair.
“What is that? Please, go on. Where did you see her?” His voice betrayed both desperation and unease.
The man on the other end exhaled.
“I don’t think where we saw her is really the issue, boss. It is… it is something else. She is heavily pregnant p>
Adrian’s world spun. His mouth went dry as he shot to his feet, the chair screeching backward.
“What?!” His voice thundered in disbelief, reverberating through the silent office.
“Yes,” the voice confirmed, hesitant now. “And… we saw her with a man.
Adrian’s chest rose sharply as though he couldn’t breathe.
“A what?!” he barked, his entire body springing up, blood rushing to his head.
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.