Chapter 5 - THE MAFIA BOSS FELL FOR HIS OWN WIFE
Christian had never been jealous before.
He had never needed to be.
Women came to him.
Men feared him.
His money opened every door.
But Amelia Jones was different.
She didn't want his money.
She didn't want his protection.
And she certainly didn't want him.
Yet every time he saw Lucian Brooks make her smile, something twisted inside his chest.
“Who is he?” Christian asked Henry.
“A childhood friend.”
“How close?”
“Christian.”
“Answer me.”
Henry sighed.
“He helped her after her mother died. Paid for groceries. Drove her to medical appointments. Apparently, he even helped her find work.”
Christian looked away.
Everything another man had done for his wife.
Everything he should have done.
That evening, Christian visited Amelia's apartment.
She opened the door wearing an oversized sweater.
Her hair was tied loosely behind her head.
She looked exhausted.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought dinner.”
She glanced at the expensive restaurant bags.
“I'm not hungry.”
“Then I'll leave it.”
He placed the bags beside the door.
Amelia stared at him.
“You're not going to force your way inside?”
Christian looked wounded.
“No.”
“Or threaten someone?”
“No.”
“Or tell me what I should do?”
He lowered his eyes.
“Not anymore.”
Amelia hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
“You can come in for ten minutes.”
Christian entered.
The apartment was small.
Clean.
Warm.
Baby clothes were folded on the sofa.
Two tiny bassinets stood near the bedroom.
He stopped.
“Are those theirs?”
Amelia followed his gaze.
“Yes.”
Christian walked toward the bassinets.
A blue blanket.
A pink blanket.
Two stuffed bears.
He reached toward one.
Then stopped.
“May I?”
Amelia's throat tightened.
“Yes.”
He touched the blue blanket.
His hands were shaking.
“What are their names?”
“Noah and Grace.”
Christian closed his eyes.
Beautiful names.
Names he hadn't helped choose.
He turned toward her.
“Amelia, I want to be their father.”
She looked at him for a long time.
“Being their father isn't something you can purchase.”
“I know.”
“You can't disappear whenever you're angry.”
“I won't.”
“You can't treat them like possessions.”
“I won't.”
“And you can't expect me to love you because you're trying now.”
Christian swallowed.
“I know.”
Silence settled between them.
Then one of the babies kicked.
Amelia gasped softly.
Christian immediately stepped forward.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“They're moving.”
His eyes dropped to her stomach.
“Can I?”
Amelia hesitated.
Then took his hand.
Placed it gently against her belly.
A tiny movement pressed against his palm.
Christian froze.
Another kick.
Then another.
His eyes filled with tears.
He had faced death without blinking.
But this nearly broke him.
“That's my son?”
“Maybe.”
Another movement.
“And my daughter?”
Amelia smiled despite herself.
“Possibly.”
Christian laughed quietly.
Then lowered his head.
“I'm sorry I wasn't here.”
Amelia looked away.
She wanted to believe him.
God, she wanted to.
But wanting something didn't make it safe.
Later that night, Christian returned to the Ryder estate.
Freya was waiting.
“Well?”
“She let me feel the babies kick.”
Freya smiled.
“And?”
Christian sat down.
“I think I'm falling in love with her.”
His mother studied him.
“Christian, you married that girl eight months ago.”
“I know.”
“You threw her away.”
“I know.”
“And now?”
Christian looked toward the window.
“Now I'd give everything I own just to have her trust me.”
Freya sat beside him.
“Then stop trying to buy forgiveness.”
He looked at her.
“Earn it.”
The following morning, Christian received a sealed envelope.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Amelia standing beside Lucian.
And a handwritten note.
Ask your wife why she really married you.
Beneath it was a second photograph.
Christian lying unconscious in the hospital.
A woman leaning over him.
But the woman wasn't Amelia.
It was Scarlett Vale.
May you like
And on the back of the photograph were five words:
Your cousin arranged everything.
