Chapter 75 It Seems So
Andrew’s voice came out flat— cold. “I just don’t wanna hug right now.”
He moved past her— deeper into the living room— briefcase swinging at his side.
Maggie turned— followed— managing to pull the smile back onto her face. “I made you breakfast.”
“Again?” Andrew scoffed— didn’t look over his shoulder. “What did you cook this time?”
“Macaroni and Cheese.” Her voice stayed bright— determined.
Andrew stopped near the grand piano— turned slowly to face her. “And who taught you to cook macaroni and cheese? Let me guess— YouTube again?”
“Yes.” Maggie’s voice dropped to a whisper— smile still clinging.
Andrew’s lip curled slightly. “The last time you cooked it was terrible. Too salty. Maybe you should slow down on the cooking. You were never good at it— even when you still had your memories. Maybe that’s why you’re so bad at it.”
Maggie’s smile vanished— completely. Her eyes widened— hurt flashing raw before she blinked it away. She said nothing.
Andrew continued— voice still cold, matter-of-fact. “I’m heading out now. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He turned toward the front door— long strides.
“Where are you going?” Maggie called after him— voice small.
“That’s none of your business.” He didn’t look back— pulled the heavy front door open, stepped through, let it shut behind him with a solid, final click.
Outside— the expansive driveway curved wide under grey sky— rows of supercars and luxury sedans gleaming in the morning light: black Lamborghini Aventador, silver Rolls-Royce Phantom, red Ferrari 488. Andrew walked straight to the black 2025 Dodge Challenger SXT— sleek, muscular lines— opened the driver’s door, dropped inside, briefcase on the passenger seat.
Engine roared to life— deep, throaty. He pulled through the driveway— gravel crunching— toward the towering automatic steel gates. They parted silently. He accelerated— tires biting pavement— disappeared down the private road.
Thirty minutes later the Challenger turned into the driveway of a spacious loft apartment in the heart of Brooklyn— red brick, tall arched windows, ivy climbing the facade. Andrew parked— engine off— grabbed his briefcase, stepped out, locked the car with a beep.
He crossed the sidewalk— climbed the short steps— unlocked the front door, stepped inside.
The living room opened before him— high ceilings, exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the street. Amelia sat on one of the low pink couches— legs crossed, arms folded tight across her chest, face contoured in anger, lips pressed into a thin line.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed— eyes narrowing as he entered.
Andrew closed the door behind him— slow, deliberate. “Is that how you welcome me?”
He walked toward her— casual stride.
Amelia’s eyes tracked him— hard. He bent— aimed a soft kiss at her forehead.
She jerked her head away— sharp.
“You said you were only going to spend at most four days with her.” Her voice rose— sharp, accusatory. “And you didn’t. You spent over a week.”
Andrew smiled— slow, teasing. “Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”
“Don’t play with me.” Amelia barked— almost a growl.
The smile didn’t falter. Andrew dropped onto the couch beside her— settled behind her, briefcase hitting the floor with a soft thud. He leaned in— voice dropping low, soothing.
“I’m sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t spend more than four days with her. But she was too clingy— too many questions. Imagine I had to tell her how we met in college.”
Amelia’s head snapped toward him. “You did? Is that smart?"
"Won’t that trigger her memories?"
Andrew placed a gentle palm on her thigh— thumb stroking once. “It won’t trigger anything. The doctor said the chances of her ever recovering any memories are slim— as slim as nothing.”
Amelia rolled her eyes— still tense. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
She exhaled— sharp. “Still. You shouldn’t have told her anything.”
“But my time with her wasn’t a total waste.” Andrew’s smile returned— slow, satisfied. “I’ve already come up with a plan that’ll buy us time to get rid of her completely, without even having to hide our relationship.”
Amelia’s brows lifted— curiosity cutting through the anger. “What do you mean?”
Andrew reached for the briefcase— set it on his lap— snapped the latches open. He pulled out a thin stack of documents— legal-looking, bound with a clip— and handed them to her.
“What’s this?” Amelia took the papers— turned them over.
“That,” Andrew said— voice low, triumphant— “is a forged document that claims me, you, and her are in a polygamous relationship. It has her forged signatures on it.”
Amelia’s eyes widened— slowly scanning the pages. Her anger cracked— astonishment taking its place. “Wow… this is brilliant.”
“You can say it again.” Andrew’s smile widened— predatory now.
“You can see I'm a genius.”
“It seems so.” Amelia nodded— light, almost reluctant— as a genuine smile finally formed on her face while she flipped another page.