CH- 25

CH- 25
Amelia’s POV

Lucas’s text hit like a lifeline, a shot to erase the guilt gnawing at me for weeks. I’d been played, sucked into a scheme far uglier than I’d imagined.

Sabotaging Nathan’s career was one thing—stealing files, denting his rep—but framing him for murder? That was never what I signed up for.

Andre Iguodala’s plan was a sick twist I never signed up for. When Lucas asked for my help, I jumped. I couldn’t undo my part, but I could fight to fix it. In my purple pajamas, I yanked the kettle off the stove, craving coffee’s clarity.

With the boys at school, the quiet house gave me room to plan. Mom appeared in the doorway, eyes cautious, reading my mood.

“Good morning, Mom,” I said softly, setting the mug down on the sink. Guilt tugged at me—last night’s argument still hung in the air. I owed her more than silence. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I was just… angry, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

She brushed her fingers through my hair like she used to when I was a child. “Don’t apologize. I saw the way you looked yesterday—you were hurting. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Her voice was gentle, but my chest tightened. The memory of last night slammed back—the way she’d crumpled in the doorway without warning, her lips pale, her breath so shallow I thought I was losing her right there on the floor.

I’d panicked, calling her name, sprinkling water over her face until finally her eyes fluttered open.

She’d clutched my hand and whispered, “Just take me to my room, Amy. No hospitals.” I’d obeyed because she looked so fragile, so desperate, but the guilt never left. What if I’d been wrong? What if it hadn’t just been exhaustion?

Even now, with her standing in front of me, looking steady enough, I couldn’t shake the dread that it might happen again. And if it did—what if next time, I couldn’t………?

“Honestly, Amy, I’d rather you talked things through with me…” she continued, but part of me was still stuck in that moment, wondering if I should have forced her into an ambulance instead of her bed.

“Yea I mean talk things through with me than apologize after. I know I haven’t been much of a mother, but I’d like to change that. I can see you’ve been under so much pressure lately. You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is.”

Her words cracked something in me I hadn’t realized was brittle. For months, I’d carried the weight of lies, the secrecy, the late nights spent second-guessing myself.

To finally hear her offer—an open hand instead of a demand—made my chest ache. I wanted to spill it all.

“Work has been…” I started, my throat thick.

But my phone buzzed against the counter, slicing the moment apart.

I froze. My mind clawed for control. What was I doing, even considering telling her? She could never understand. She didn’t need to.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Mom said softly, almost pleading. “We can keep talking.”

Her voice broke me a little more, but the moment was already gone. “It’s work, Mom. I have to.”

I grabbed the phone and escaped to my room, bolting the door before answering.

“Amelia, it’s Lucas. Do you have everything ready?”

“Yes,” I whispered, keeping my voice steady. “The pickup van will be there in an hour. Remember, the code is ‘Garbage.’ They’ll take you to the arranged location—somewhere no one will be able to track you.”

“Thank you, Amelia. You’ve been most helpful.”

The gratitude in his voice cut through me, leaving guilt in its wake. Helpful. That wasn’t what I felt. Complicit, maybe.

Dirty, even. But not helpful. Still, I swallowed it down. “I’ll meet you at the location in an hour.”

The call ended, and I dropped onto the bed with a long sigh.

I prayed this plan would work. I had called in favors, arranged a moving company that prided itself on discretion—an extra fee to keep them blind and quiet.

I’d secured a location under false names, layered enough lies to buy them time.

It should hold. It had to.

When Lucas had called me requesting transport, I had called a moving company who would be discreet for an extra fee and secured a location for them under false names.

I covered my tracks, and was sure it would take a while before they were uncovered.

NATHAN’S POV

Meanwhile, Doctor Friggard was fading fast. Blood had soaked through the makeshift cloth we’d used to stop the bleeding earlier.

I stayed close to him, trying to keep him conscious, but it seemed like he was slipping away again.

“Where’s the truck?” I muttered under my breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The seconds felt like hours, each one stretching longer than the last.

Lucas looked just as worried as I felt. He’d long since removed his tie and now sat slumped on a chair, tension etched into every line of his face. “She said it would come; let’s keep waiting. How is he?”

“He just passed out again,” I replied grimly. “He needs medical attention—now.”

A sudden knock from above jolted us both. My heart leapt into my throat. Was this our ride, or had someone returned to finish what they started? Fear flickered in Lucas’s eyes too.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, his voice barely audible over the pounding in my chest.

Just then, a voice called out loudly from above. “We’re just here to collect the garbage.”

Lucas shot up instantly. “It’s our transport—that’s the code. Let’s help Doctor Friggard up.” Together, we hoisted the doctor onto our shoulders and climbed the stairs. Two burly men in work jumpers stood waiting for us at the top.

“Sorry we were late,” the one with a goatee said gruffly. “Had to make sure no one was around.”

His African American companion effortlessly lifted Doctor Friggard as though he weighed nothing. “The car’s out front; hurry.”

No further urging was needed. We bolted out of there, jumping into the open truck parked outside.

As we sped off, I glanced around nervously, half-expecting bullets to rain down on us any second.

Once inside, the man who’d carried Doctor Friggard joined us in the back while his partner drove.

Without wasting a moment, he pulled out a first-aid kit and began tending to the doctor’s wound.

“I’m a doctor,” he explained briskly. “Amelia specifically requested that I be here.”

I turned to Lucas, genuinely impressed. “I guess this Amelia of yours is as good as you say she is.”

Lucas smirked, shaking his head slightly. It was another reminder of how much I didn’t remember. His grin widened when he realized I wasn’t catching on.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lucas tried—and failed—to suppress his amusement. “I never thought I’d see the day where you would call Amelia Benito good.”

That caught me off guard. “Did I dislike her that much? What was my reason?”

Lucas hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You hated her for no particular reason. But honestly, Nate, it wasn’t unusual. You do that a lot—judge people before really knowing them.” He paused, considering something. “Though, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely about her. You’ve been carrying a lot of baggage lately… family stuff.”

Something in his tone told me there was more to the story, but before I could press him further, the driver announced, “We’re here.”

We got out of the truck, and I scanned the area. A sleek car idled nearby, its engine humming softly.

Through the windshield, I could see a woman gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"That's Amelia." Lucas whispered in my ears.

I couldn't get a clear sight of her. 

When she got out, I knew she was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen.

For a brief second, I forgot about the chaos surrounding us.

All I could think was: Who is this woman?