Chapter 73
Amelia
I'd just gotten off the phone with the hospital administration when my eyelids started to droop. The voice of my supervisor, Dr. Matthews, still echoed in my ears: "You're headed to Boston in three days for the medical exchange program. Take the next three days off to prepare."
Three whole days off. In my profession, that was practically a vacation. I sank deeper into the couch cushions, savoring the rare moment of peace in the riverside apartment that Olivia and I now shared.
The persistent ringing of the doorbell yanked me from my half-sleep.
"Who the hell is that at this hour?" Olivia groaned from the kitchen, where she'd been making her special "pregnancy-friendly" smoothie.
I dragged myself to the door, wrapping my robe tighter around my growing belly. Through the peephole, I spotted a familiar face – Michael Davis, Ethan's assistant, standing ramrod straight with a manila envelope clutched in his hand.
When I opened the door, his professional mask didn't slip an inch. "Good morning, Mrs. Black."
"It's Miss. Thompson," I corrected immediately, my voice sharper than intended. "We're separated, Mr. Davis."
He nodded, unfazed. "Mr. Black asked me to deliver these documents to you. He also wanted me to inform you that he's transferring the Upper East Side penthouse to your name."
I stiffened. "Please tell Ethan I don't need his charity."
Michael's expression remained neutral as he held out the envelope. "He insisted you have this information, regardless of your decision about the property."
I took the envelope, feeling its unexpected weight. "Thank you for the delivery, Mr. Davis."
After shutting the door, I leaned against it, envelope pressed to my chest. Why couldn't Ethan just leave me alone? What game was he playing now?
"What did Robot Man want?" Olivia appeared, smoothie in hand, eyeing the envelope suspiciously.
"Ethan's trying to give me the penthouse," I said, moving to the couch.
Olivia snorted. "Rich people's guilt gifts. So what's in the envelope?"
I tore it open, spreading the contents across the coffee table. The first document made my breath catch. "Holy shit."
"What?" Olivia leaned over my shoulder.
"Emily isn't Robert's biological daughter." My fingers trembled as I traced the DNA test results. "Margaret had an affair."
"Damn," Olivia whispered. "So all these years, you've endured the pain that should have belonged to Emily. I know your father hated you because he believed you were not his biological daughter."
I flipped to the next page and felt my world tilt sideways. There was my mother's birth certificate, with an amendment note attached. And adoption papers.
"My mother was adopted," I said, my voice barely audible. "She was an orphan taken in by her family."
Olivia squeezed my shoulder as I struggled to process this revelation. "That means—"
"I don't know who I really am now." The room seemed to spin around me.
I closed my eyes, remembering the old sachet I'd found among my mother's things – the one with the distinct herbal scent that Mrs. Hopkins had mentioned was traditional for newborns in a specific part of Boston. The pieces were starting to fit together.
"I need to find out the truth," I said, gripping the papers tighter. "Everyone deserves to know where they come from."
Olivia nodded, then grinned suddenly. "Well, looks like our Boston trip just got more interesting."
I managed a weak smile. "We should start packing."
"Right now?" Olivia looked alarmed.
"We leave in three days," I reminded her, getting to my feet. "And I need to buy some anti-nausea medications. This baby makes its presence known every morning."
"Morning sickness kicking your ass, doc?" Olivia teased.
"Like clockwork," I admitted, resting a hand on my slightly rounded belly. "I'm fine until sunrise, then it hits me like a truck."
Two hours later, we were pushing a cart through the organic section of an upscale Manhattan supermarket. I carefully selected prenatal vitamins while Olivia tossed snacks into the cart with abandon.
"You know," I said quietly, checking that no one was within earshot, "from what I've gathered, Thompson Enterprises has maybe three months before it collapses completely."
Olivia nearly dropped the box of crackers she was examining. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm planning to use the funds Grandfather left me to buy out all the shares," I explained, picking up a bottle of ginger tea. "Then I'll hire a professional management team to take over."
"Whoa," Olivia's eyes widened. "That's a power move. You going all corporate shark on me now?"
I shook my head. "It's not about the money. That company was my grandfather's life's work – and my mother's too. I can't just let it disappear."
I reached for a bunch of organic grapes, running my fingers over their smooth surface. "You know what I've realized? True happiness is in our own hands."
---
That evening, I pulled my SUV into the circular driveway of the Bennett mansion. Olivia and I had come to inform her family about our imminent departure to Boston.
As we approached the front door, I was surprised to see Julian standing there in casual loungewear, looking thinner and more tired than I remembered.
"Ladies," he greeted us with a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
I felt his gaze linger on my slightly protruding stomach, and a wave of discomfort washed over me.
Inside the lavish foyer, the awkward silence stretched between us until I finally spoke.
"I'm planning to take over Thompson Enterprises." my tone was carefully neutral.
"I have connections in finance," he shrugged. "If you need any assistance—"
"I've already arranged everything legally," I cut him off. "But I need your help after I go to Boston."
Julian's expression flickered with something like disappointment. "Of course. I'll handle everything for you when you leave."
"Thank you, Julian." I hugged him.
When we said our goodbyes, Julian held my hand a fraction longer than necessary. "Take care of yourself, Amelia. And..." he glanced at my stomach, "...the little one."
Driving away from the Bennett estate, I couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between Julian and me. But my mind quickly returned to the documents in my bag – to the mystery of my mother's true identity and what I might discover in Boston.
"You think Ethan sent those files to manipulate you somehow?" Olivia asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I sighed, steering through the evening traffic. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out what happened to my mother, with or without his help."
As the Manhattan skyline glittered in my rearview mirror, I felt a strange sense of determination rising within me. Boston wasn't just a professional opportunity anymore – it was a chance to uncover the truth about who I really was.