Chapter 22
In the elegant sunroom of the Pedro estate, Amara’s mother, Madam Pedro, fanned out a series of profiles like a deck of high-stakes cards.
“Amara, look at these young men. Talented, handsome, and I’ve personally vetted their backgrounds,” her mother insisted. “Their character is spotless. I’m thinking of inviting them all to your party. What do you think? Take a look p>
Amara didn’t even glance down. “Not interested, Mom p>
“People are fighting for an invitation to this gala!” her mother countered, her eyes flashing with a bit of mischief. “And guess who is begging to be let in? The Creed family. Seb’s mother is practically clawing at the gates. That sick fool Madam Pedro shook her head. “He’s married with a child, yet they act as if they are royalty p>
The assistant, standing nearby, chuckled. “You’re really something, Madam. So, do you want him to join? Should we send the invitation p>
Madam Pedro smiled coldly. “What does he want? To see our world? Then I’ll let them in just to turn them away. Let’s see if Seb really has the nerve to show up with Elara while he’s searching for my daughter. Let’s see if he’s ready to divorce her on the spot p>
“Mum, I’ll take my leave,” Amara said, rising from her chair. “I want to get some rest in my room p>
“Get some rest, darling,” her mother said, her voice softening instantly.
As soon as Amara left, the assistant’s phone rang. “Hello? Mrs. Creed Senior? I heard you were calling to… ask for an invitation?” The assistant looked at Madam Pedro, who was gesturing wildly.
“Invitation? They dare to dream!” Madam Pedro whispered-shouted, cursing Seb’s audacity for sending his mother to do his dirty work. But then, a sharp idea struck her. She smirked at the assistant. “Wait. Change of plans. Agree to it. Let them come. Let them see exactly who they threw away.
Upstairs, the heavy silence of the dimly lit room was suddenly pierced by the rhythmic vibration of Amara’s phone against the wooden nightstand. The screen brightened her face as she reached for it. It was a notification from Julian.
“I hope I’m not interrupting a very important nap,” Julian’s voice flowed through the line, smooth and playful, with just a hint of mischief. The warmth of his tone wrapped around her, drawing a small smile to her lips as she settled back against the pillows, the plush fabric of her blanket pulling closer around her.
“Just thinking about the case,” Amara replied, leaning back against her pillows.
“Well, stop. I’ve already found three loopholes in Elara’s previous charity filings. She’s not just mean, Amara, she’s remarkably bad at hiding her tracks. It’s almost insulting to my profession how easy this is going to be p>
Amara let out a small giggle. “Is that the ’multi-talented’ lawyer speaking p>
“It’s the exceptionally overqualified lawyer speaking,” Julian retorted with a playful smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.
He leaned back in his chair, the dim light casting shadows across his face, and began recounting a truly absurd story about a witness who had boldly attempted to bring a pet goat into a deposition, much to the shock and confusion of everyone present.
His wit flowed effortlessly, each detail more absurd than the last, as he spiritedly described the chaos that followed.
Amara, caught off guard by the unexpected humor, burst into a genuine, loud laugh, her melodic laughter echoing through the quiet, dusty corners of the house.
It was a sound that hadn’t echoed within those walls for years, breaking the heavy silence that had draped over their lives like a fog. In that moment, the warmth of Julian’s narrative momentarily chased away the shadows of the past.
In the hallway, Madam Pedro stopped in her tracks. Hearing her daughter’s laughter echoing through the door, her eyes filled with tears of relief. She didn’t know who was on the other end of that phone, but she already liked him.
The sun blazed overhead, casting harsh rays that beamed on the bustling street outside the cafe, while within the confines of the dimly lit cafe, an oppressive gloom settled over Seb’s table. Dressed in a sharply tailored navy blue suit, he felt the fabric constricting against him, a stark contrast to the weight of anxiety twisting in his chest like a coiling snake.
A waitress, with a polite but weary smile, approached and set a steaming cup of rich, dark coffee before him, a request he had made nearly thirty minutes ago but had yet to touch.
The aroma wafted toward him, but it did little to break through his obsession. Seb’s gaze was fixed intently on the man seated across from him, whose calm demeanor only intensified the storm of nerves brewing within him. The clatter of cups and the low murmur of conversation faded into the background.
“Where is she? It’s been days,” Seb said, his voice gravelly. He looked at Mr. Lomal, the private detective he’d hired to do what his own resources couldn’t. “Track her down. Don’t leave a single stone unturned p>
“I’ll get right on it, Mr. Creed,” Lomal replied, tapping a folder on the table. “I’ll alert you the second I find something p>
“Good. Do that,” Seb muttered, waving him off.
As the detective left, Seb leaned back, running a trembling hand through his hair. His thoughts were a chaotic mess of guilt and delusion. Elara is my savior, he told himself, trying to justify the mess he’d made. The thought of her making me a father again… it made me slip. I neglected Amara. This is all my fault.
He closed his eyes, picturing Amara’s face the last time he’d seen her. “Where are you, Amara?” he whispered to the empty chair. “I love you. I know you’re angry, but just come home. I’ll make it right. I’ll fix everything p>
He truly believed he could just whistle and she would return, oblivious to the fact that the woman he knew was gone, replaced by a Pedro heiress who wanted nothing to do with his “fixes p>
Lomal paused by the door, turning back for a final word. “Don’t worry, Mr. Creed. Since her passport is still at your residence, she’s definitely still in Verenza. We’ll find her. It’s only a matter of time p>
Seb nodded, a false sense of hope rising in him. He had no idea that Amara didn’t need that old passport anymore.