Chapter 21
Amelia
Morning light filtered through Manhattan's thin fog, spilling onto the empty streets as I stuffed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase. My movements were light, as if afraid to wake something—or someone. Last night's conversation with Ethan still echoed in my mind, each word as sharp as a needle.
I'd considered knocking on his door, at least saying goodbye, but I stopped at his doorway. No light seeped through the crack. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe he didn't want to see me at all. Some goodbyes are destined to be silent.
As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, the wheels made a soft rolling sound against the marble floor, jarringly loud in the empty Upper East Side mansion. I didn't look back, just loaded my luggage into the car and started the engine.
When the light turned green, I hit the gas and drove away quickly. Wind rushed through the window, bringing a long-forgotten sense of freedom—but this freedom tasted bitter.
After a long day at the hospital, exhausted both physically and mentally, I finally began to think about my next move. As I searched for a hotel, my grandfather called and asked me to come home with Ethan. Reluctantly, I made my way to my grandfather’s brownstone in Brooklyn. Standing in front of the building that had witnessed my entire childhood, my emotions were a tangled mess. This place had always been my safe haven, but now it also felt like the beginning of this marriage farce.
I glanced at the dashboard clock—7:45 PM. I’d been driving for over an hour in traffic, my mind replaying every moment of last night’s argument with Ethan. My heart felt heavy as I parked, knowing what I had to do.
I sat in the car for ten minutes, taking deep breaths to steady myself. No matter what, I needed to tell Grandfather about my decision to end this contract marriage. He deserved to know, even if it would disappoint him.
Pushing open the familiar door, Mrs. Jenkins—who had been serving this house long before I was born—greeted me with a warm smile. "Miss Thompson, you're back! The old gentleman has been waiting for you."
"How is he doing?" I asked, a sense of foreboding rising within me.
"Just as usual." Mrs. Jenkins's words made my heart tighten.
Grandfather's master bedroom remained exactly as I remembered, though the air now carried a faint smell of medicine. He was half-reclined against the headboard, his eyes lighting up when I entered.
"Amelia, you're here! Where's Ethan? Why didn't he come with you?" His voice was weak but expectant.
I sat on the edge of the bed, taking his bony hand in mine. "Grandfather, there's something I need to tell you..."
"Let me see your marriage certificate first," he interrupted, eagerness flashing in his eyes. "I need to confirm you're really married."
I hesitated, then pulled the certificate from my bag. Grandfather took it, put on his reading glasses, and examined it carefully. When he saw our photo, tears welled in his eyes.
"Good, good..." he said, his voice trembling. "Now I can rest easy."
Seeing his emotion, the words I'd prepared caught in my throat. How could I tell him now that it was all fake?
"Amelia," Grandfather suddenly tightened his grip on my hand, "I just wanted to find you reliable support while I'm still alive. I hope you don't blame me..."
I sensed something wrong. "Wait, what do you mean by that?"
"The cancer has spread to my liver and bone marrow. Doctors say I don't have much time left."
I felt the world tilt beneath my feet. "What? No, that can't be. We can get other opinions, try experimental therapies—"
"I've seen all the specialists, dear. You're a doctor. You know what stage four means."
Tears filled my eyes. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because you would try to fix it, and some things can't be fixed." He squeezed my hand. "I just wanted to protect you before I die."
Grandfather gave a bitter smile. "I didn't want to worry you. Amelia, I need to apologize to you..."
"Apologize for what?"
"I know it wasn't fair to either of you, but I couldn't bear the thought of you facing Robert and that Viktor Group alone..." he confessed, his voice full of guilt.
Hearing these words, I could no longer control my emotions. Tears poured down my face like a breaking dam. So Grandfather had known the nature of this marriage all along, carrying this burden and guilt. What shocked me even more was his mention of the Viktor Group—the company my mother had worked for.
"Grandfather..." I choked out, "what do you mean about the Viktor Group? Does this have something to do with Mom?"
His eyes filled with love as he stroked my hair. "Good child, you probably haven't eaten dinner yet. Go eat first."
I shook my head. "I'm not hungry. I want to know about Mom."
"Come back after dinner," he insisted. "Don't starve yourself."
The dining room held only me, with Mrs. Jenkins's prepared dinner spread before me. I had no appetite. Mechanically, I forked a piece of broccoli and chewed slowly. It tasted like nothing. I barely touched the main course, just staring blankly at the food on my plate.
Mrs. Jenkins came over and asked with concern, "Miss Thompson, is the food not to your liking?"
I shook my head, and when silence returned, I finally broke down sobbing. Tears dropped onto the rice, one after another, soon blurring the entire bowl.
The truth was crushing me. Grandfather was dying. My marriage was a sham built on an old debt. And here I was, alone at a dining table, watching my tears dissolve into my untouched dinner.
I'd left Ethan's mansion thinking I was reclaiming my freedom, but now I realized I'd never been free at all. I was just a pawn in a game I didn't understand, moved by forces beyond my control.
The worst part? I still didn't know the rules—or what was truly at stake.