Chapter 120
Blake
I stood at the entrance of my apartment building, fidgeting with the phone in my pocket. Pulling it out, I stared at Sophia's contact information, my thumb hovering over her name.
Fuck, I want to tell her I'm handling Amanda, but what good would that do?
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, cursing under my breath. My chest tightened with frustration. Contacting Sophia now would only complicate things and potentially put her and Lily at greater risk. The last thing they needed was more of my drama spilling into their lives like toxic waste.
My jaw clenched tight enough to cause pain. With a deep breath that did nothing to calm the hurricane inside me, I stepped into the elevator. My mind was a goddamn battlefield of contradictions—wanting to avoid Amanda yet knowing I needed to face her and end our relationship.
What worried me most was that pushing Amanda too far might make her target Sophia and Lily for revenge.
"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, running a hand through my hair as the elevator ascended. My stomach knotted with dread at the thought of facing Amanda's manipulative tactics again.
The elevator reached the penthouse, doors sliding open silently. I walked into the spacious living room, surprised to find my mother sitting on the sofa, elegantly browsing a tablet. She looked up, set the device aside, and offered me that perfect smile that never reached her eyes.
"Blake, darling, you're home," Julianna said, her voice calm and cool.
My muscles tensed instantly, adrenaline shooting through my veins. "Mom？" My eyes darted around the room, a sickening mix of relief and suspicion washing over me. "Where's Amanda?"
"I added some sleeping medication to her breath spray, dear." My mother stated matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather. "She's asleep in the guest suite now."
I stared at her in shock, my eyes widening as bile rose in my throat. "Jesus fucking Christ, Mom, you can't just lock her up like that. That's illegal detention." My heart hammered against my ribs as I considered the implications. Has my mother completely lost her fucking mind? Or have I just been blind to how far she'd go all these years?
"Don't be so dramatic, son." She stood, smoothing her immaculate suit with practiced precision. "I'm simply solving a problem as you requested. Come, I'll show you."
I followed her to the remodeled guest suite, my footsteps heavy with apprehension, sweat beading at my temples despite the perfectly controlled temperature. She unlocked the high-tech door with her fingerprint, the soft electronic beep cutting through the tension. "You asked for this, and I delivered, but don't expect me to like this decision."
We entered the room to find Amanda lying on the bed, breathing steadily. I checked her pulse, confirming she was merely asleep, my fingers recoiling from her skin as if burned. Even unconscious, she makes my skin crawl. How did I ever let this woman into my life? Into my bed? The thought made me want to scrub my skin raw.
"This was necessary, Mom. This relationship has to end," I said quietly, turning to leave the room, disgust and relief battling within me like two prizefighters.
Back in the kitchen, I declined my mother's offer of dinner with a dismissive wave and headed straight for the whiskey cabinet. I poured a glass with trembling hands and downed half of it in one swallow, feeling the heat spread through my chest, welcoming the momentary distraction from the shitstorm that had become my life.
I just want to see Sophia and Lily, but my presence only puts them at greater risk. Damn media, damn Amanda's threats, damn this whole fucked-up situation. I cursed inwardly, my free hand balling into a fist so tight my nails dug crescents into my palm.
"Whiskey doesn't solve problems, Blake," my mother commented, elegantly pouring herself a glass of white wine.
"Maybe not, but it helps me forget them temporarily," I replied, my voice heavy with exhaustion and bitter resentment. I took another long swig, hoping the burn would numb the chaos in my mind. What I wouldn't give to be in Sophia's apartment right now, reading a bedtime story to Lily...
Just as I wanted to continue my solitary contemplation, Amanda suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, wearing a carefully selected silk robe. She seemed completely awake, acting as if nothing had happened.
"Darling, you're finally home," Amanda said sweetly, moving toward me. "The doctor says our best chance for me to get pregnant again is if we try tonight."
My body stiffened, nausea churning in my stomach like a cement mixer. God, I'd rather cut off my own dick than touch her again. I stepped back, avoiding her touch as if she were contagious. "Amanda, I can't stay tonight. There's an emergency meeting at the Group I need to attend."
Amanda's expression instantly cooled, her eyes flashing with calculation. "I know what you're thinking, Blake. I won't sign any divorce papers."
I looked at her calmly, though inside my blood was boiling. "You know, Amanda, you're the one who should be worried about prison."
The statement ignited her fury like a fuse to dynamite. She began screaming, her face contorting with rage as she accused me of betraying her, threatening to let the whole world know how I abandoned my pregnant fiancée.
Let her fucking scream until her throat bleeds. I'm done with this charade. I thought, my resolve hardening with each shriek, each syllable of her voice grating against my nerves like sandpaper.
Suddenly, my mother emerged from behind me, with surprising strength forcing the breath spray toward Amanda's throat. Amanda struggled for a few seconds, then started coughing.
"You'll regret this, you old witch!" Amanda gasped, "I'll have you arrested, I'll—"
Her words cut off as the medication quickly took effect. My mother signaled to the security guards waiting by the door, who came in and escorted the semi-conscious Amanda back to her room.
I watched in shock, a mix of horror and grudging admiration for my mother's efficiency washing over me. She's terrifying. Always has been. "When the hell did you start carrying drugs around?"
"Since I decided to protect my son," she answered calmly, as if she'd just completed a household chore. "You need to contact your lawyer immediately and file a lawsuit against her. I suggest you charge her with mental instability and seek a restraining order."
I nodded, taking out my phone to call him. My fingers tapped the screen with renewed purpose, a surge of determination flooding through me. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the Manhattan skyline, my reflection staring back at me—a man I barely recognized anymore.
"The only way to reconcile with Sophia and ensure Lily's safety is to end this fucking charade once and for all," I whispered to myself, conviction replacing uncertainty. The city lights twinkled outside like distant witnesses to my promise. I've lost too much time already.