Chapter 73 Once You're Back
The phone kept buzzing, the name glowing like a warning flare.
Amelia drew in a slow breath, steadied her hands, and looked around the room. “I’m going to answer it.”
Bryson’s eyes snapped to hers. “No—”
“Maybe it can buy us time,” she said, voice firm but soft. “If he thinks I’m willing to talk, it might keep him from doing something reckless.”
Bryson stared at her for a heartbeat, jaw tight. Every instinct in him screamed to shut this down. But he saw her eyes—clear, deliberate, not panicked—and forced himself to nod once. “Speaker,” he said. “We all stay quiet.”
She hit the green button, placed the phone on the table. The line clicked, and Carl’s voice came through, slow and too casual, like nothing had broken.
“Amelia. I’ve been calling. You don’t answer anymore.”
She kept her tone neutral. “I’m answering now.”
“That’s something.” His laugh was low, empty. “I miss you. I see you out there, acting like you’ve moved on. But you haven’t. Not really. You’re still mine. You’ve always been mine.”
Her knuckles whitened against her knee, but she didn’t rise to it. “What do you want, Carl?”
“You,” he said simply. “Us. But since you seem confused, I’ve been thinking. There’s a way to make this all work. We stop fighting, we build what we were supposed to build. You get a child like you’ve always wanted. I get you back where you belong. And she—” he chuckled darkly “—she gets a family too. Everyone wins.”
On the sofa, Claire’s mouth dropped open. Lila’s hand covered hers, as if to keep her from making a sound. Marcus and Evan stood like statues near the wall. No one moved.
Amelia’s voice stayed even. “She?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Carl said. “Nadia. She’s carrying my baby already. It’s perfect. We live together, raise them together. Like sister wives. It’s modern. People do it all the time.” His tone was almost gleeful now, as if unveiling a brilliant pitch. “You’d like it once you tried. You’d see reason.”
The room went electric. Every man there looked like they didn’t know whether to punch a wall or laugh in his face. Bryson’s hand twitched against his thigh but he stayed silent, eyes on Amelia.
She exhaled slowly, lifting her chin, still steady. “You’re telling me your plan is for me to live with you and Nadia. Raise two children. As your wife. With her?”
Carl’s voice came back, warm and certain. “Exactly. We stop fighting. We stop pretending. You come home. We fix it. I’ll take care of everything.”
The silence on the other end of the room was a living thing. Nobody spoke, nobody even breathed loud enough to risk being heard. The absurdity of it, the horror of it, sat in the air like a third presence: some wanted to laugh, some wanted to scream, but all of them were still.
Amelia’s eyes flicked once to Bryson. He gave the smallest nod: hold steady.
She did. “That’s quite a plan, Carl,” she said softly. “Tell me more.”
And on the other end of the line, Carl kept talking, spinning his fantasy, not knowing that in that room the people he feared most were listening, recording, and preparing to end it.
Carl’s voice grew lighter, like he was explaining a renovation plan instead of a crime. “I’ve been thinking about the layout already,” he said. “The house is big enough. We’ll convert the guest wing for you and the baby. Nadia’s side is ready — I’m having a nursery built. But you can choose your own. Whatever colors you want. You always liked soft green, right? Or maybe lavender. I’ll let you decide. It’ll be our little project together.”
Amelia’s knuckles dug into her palm under the table. She kept her face neutral, eyes on Bryson’s hand resting over his thigh.
Carl kept going, voice gaining an eager rhythm. “I’ll do date nights with each of you. One week you and me, next week Nadia and me. Nobody has to feel left out. Nadia’s already agreed, you know. She understands this is the best way forward. She’s tired of fighting, same as me. This is a family, Amelia. You can come home and stop pretending you’re something else.”
Lila pressed her lips together hard, her eyes glistening with a mix of fury and disbelief. Claire’s fingers had curled into fists in her lap. Marcus’s jaw was set like concrete. Nobody moved. Nobody dared to break the silence.
Carl’s tone softened like he thought he was comforting her. “You’ll see. Once you’re back, once you’re pregnant, once we’re all together, it’ll make sense. You always wanted a child. I’m giving you that. We can even pick the name together. All the other stuff—Hearst, the city, the noise—will disappear.”
Amelia drew a breath through her nose, slow and controlled, forcing herself not to let her voice crack. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” she said quietly.
Carl chuckled. “Of course I have. I’ve been planning it since you left. You think I’m going to let him take you from me? Never. You’re mine, Amelia. Always were.”
In the room, Bryson’s expression didn’t change, but his hand slid onto the edge of the table, fingers drumming once. A signal to the men to hold their positions, stay silent. His eyes stayed locked on Amelia, his nod almost imperceptible: you’re doing fine, keep him talking.
Carl’s voice rolled on, describing a life that didn’t exist, a future he’d built out of obsession and entitlement. “Two nurseries, two cribs. You can even help Nadia choose clothes for the babies. We’ll be happy again. You’ll see.”
The room held its breath. No one laughed. No one cried. They just listened as Carl kept drawing the blueprints of his delusion, and Amelia sat perfectly still, every inch of her composure the only thing keeping him talking instead of acting.