Chapter 151 Adrian

Chapter 151 Talia
Midnight blue. A Rolls-Royce Cullinan. Such a model isn't bought in a car stand, it's custom-ordered and waited for. A limited edition. 

Archer and Celine walked majestically to it. Celine lifted both hands to her mouth, startled, she jumped up even with her heels. Amber cocked her head. 

“A new one? How many cars is she going to have?” Her lips weren't closing any longer. Her breaths stopped. 

Archer stood beside the car with his hands in his jacket pockets, watching her with the widest grin he has seen on him. Ever. 

His face screamed great satisfaction. There was no regret. 

She looked at herself. She had no car. The second hand she had was bought by her own money. 

From no breathing to breathing hard, Amber watched, feeling unlucky she never had this luck of a good man. 

She was sowing while another woman was reaping it. 

Celine threw herself into his arms. Archer caught her easily, laughing as he twirled her round once before setting her back down. 

Then he kissed her, gently, it lingered. Both hands were holding her face now. Archer didn't even look around to see if people were watching, if they were recording. 

None of those mattered where Celine is. 

Celine clutched his lapels, holding him close.

Amber shrugged. 

“Pathetic!” 

Upon taking records of everything, she walked back into the restaurant and sat down again at table seven. The waiter returned minutes later with her order. 

She picked up her fork and began to eat, working plans in her head. 

It was well done, light lemon butter, neatly arranged greens, exactly as it should be. Though she ate, her tongue felt no taste. Everything was colorless. 

Thirty minutes later, she called the waiter over and ordered the most expensive bottle on the menu, a 2008 vintage Barolo.

When it arrived, she poured herself a glass, drank about half, and left the rest untouched.

The bill came later. She paid without hesitation, using her personal account, the one Archer couldn’t see, the one tied quietly through the boutique’s secondary banking system. She left a generous tip, folded her napkin neatly, and stood up.

As she left, she passed Archer’s empty table. The red roses were still there, lush, expensive, carefully arranged. A small card was tucked between the stems, its writing unreadable from where she walked.

Amber didn’t stop. She didn’t even glance back. She just walked past this version of her life. 

Outside, the Rolls-Royce was no longer there.

They were gone. 

Amber gave the valet her ticket, waited for her car, and left when it arrived. She drove only a few blocks before easing the car to the side of the road. Not out of panic. Not out of emotion.

Simply because what came next needed her full attention, and she would not do it behind the wheel.

She picked up her phone and scrolled to a contact she had saved two weeks earlier under a name that meant nothing, M. Graves, textiles. She had never used it. Not for once.

She tapped it and held the phone to her ear.

It rang twice.

A woman answered on the second ring. 

“Yes.”

“It’s Amber Calloway,” she said, keeping her voice composed. “I need to move our Monday meeting forward. I have something significant.”

A brief silence followed. “How significant?”

“Video. Photographs. Financial routing documents covering six years,” Amber replied and went mute briefly. “Enough to make everything very clear.”

“And I think we need to talk about a private investigator referral. Tonight, if possible,” she added.

She breathed. 

“I can set up a call in forty minutes. Secure line.”

“I’ll be home,” Amber said.

She ended the call.

She drove the rest of the way without a sound in the car. No music, no calls, just the city passing by her windows in streaks of light, traffic, and people going about their normal evenings.

When she got home, she parked in the driveway and turned off the engine. The silence settled immediately.

She didn’t get out right away. She sat in the dark car for a short moment. 

She kept on thinking about Archer’s hands on Celine’s face. The way he had kissed her, slow and gentle, under the restaurant lights like nothing else mattered. The way he had laughed after.

Sarcasm. 

For years, she had thought it was her, hence wondered what to do to please him. She had taken the blame the way women often do when love starts to go south, turning inward, examining herself, listing her flaws, wondering what she could fix or change to make it right again.

Now she saw, it wasn’t at fault.

It had never been her from the very beginning.

He had just moved his heart elsewhere and left her standing in the remains of her dream. Leaving without explanation was the worse. 

Amber got out of the car and walked into the house.

She left her heels by the door, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water. She sat at the couch, still and composed, the glass resting lightly in her hand.

At 11:45, she heard Archer’s key turn in the lock.

He paused when he saw her still awake.

“You’re still up,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, turning her glass slowly between her fingers. “How was dinner?”

“Long,” he said, dropping his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie. “But productive. We’re close on the Hartwell deal.” She smiled. Archer frowned, confused. He expected sadness. 

Humming, he passed to the refrigerator to take out an orange juice he'd brewed in the morning to drink.

“You will drink?” he asked, skeptical. 

“Garland Food,” she said simply.

His shoulders dropped. For a split second, something shifted in his expression. The excitement in his pupils turned to a dark glow but he quickly wiped it off. 

“Oh right,” he said lightly. “I’m really sorry about tonight, babe. We’ll go this weekend, I promise.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled. That wasn't a genuine answer. 

She stood, rinsed her glass, and set it aside. As she passed him, she smiled tightly and walked past. 

He was smelling like Celine’s perfume, restaurant wine. 

“Happy anniversary,” she said quietly.

Amber went upstairs straight.

In the bedroom, Amber plugged her phone into the charger and sat on the edge of the bed.

She opened the video she had recorded outside Garland Food. Then she watched it, start to finish, without pausing.

Archer’s hands on Celine. The kiss. The Rolls-Royce waiting at the curb. Celine’s face when she realised it was for her.