Chapter 78 Chapter 78
Maxwell
I opened my eyes and reached out beside me, but the other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cold. Amelia wasn’t there.I sat up immediately and checked the bathroom. It was empty too. My chest tightened for a moment.
I got dressed for work in silence and went downstairs. When I reached the living area, I saw her already there, dressed neatly in her work clothes ready to leave.
Something about the sight hurt more than I expected. It felt like last night hadn’t mattered to her at all. Just like five years ago.
“Good morning, Max,” she said lightly, smiling as she took a cup of coffee from Cynthia.
“Good morning, Mr. Sinclair,” Cynthia greeted politely. “Should I serve your breakfast?”
I didn’t look away from Amelia. “No, thank you, Cynthia,” I said. She nodded and returned to the kitchen.
I walked closer to Amelia. “You,” I said quietly. “Why did you leave?”
She shrugged like it was nothing. “I have a job. I can’t show up late and start giving excuses.
You don’t expect me to tell them I was late because I spent the whole night fucking my CEO, do you?”
I smiled, I stepped closer and pulled her gently toward me. “You know no one at that office has the right to question you except me,” I said. “I thought we’d spend the morning together.” For a brief moment, she didn’t resist, and that closeness made me hopeful. “We could just work from home today,” I added softly.
She quickly stepped back, creating distance between us. “I’m going to work today,” she said firmly. Then her expression changed, becoming serious. “And we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just sex, Max,” she said calmly. “Nothing more. Nothing exclusive, you know that, right?”
Her words hit me hard. I felt frozen, like the air had been knocked out of my lungs. So that was it. Last night meant nothing to her. “Why?” I asked quietly. It was the only word I could manage.
“I already gave you my conditions,” she said quietly. “And the way you spoke to me last night… I can’t do this with you.”
“I apologized,” I replied, my frustration starting to rise. “I told you I said those things out of jealousy.”
No woman had ever made me feel the need to explain myself like this. Not even Rhea. Yet here I was, explaining, promising, bending in ways I never had before.
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want a man who thinks he owns me,” she said. “A man who wants to control my actions, my life, everything about me.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she continued before I could. “You want me,” she said firmly. “And you want whatever this is between us to work? Then divorce me. Set me free. Return my company to me. Do that, and we will be fine.”
She turned away from me and walked toward the couch. She picked up her bag calmly, like this conversation hadn’t just turned my world upside down.
I stood there, stunned, watching her walk out of the house without looking back.
Returning her company to her, that part was possible. I had already planned to clean out every corrupt hand involved. But divorce her? That was impossible. This marriage was a lifetime contract as far as I was concerned, and nothing was going to change my mind about that.
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the door, preparing to leave for the office, when my phone rang. It was the doctor.
The same doctor I had given the hair sample Rhea brought to me.
I already knew she was lying. After I caught her cheating, I hadn’t touched her for three years before our divorce. There was no way she could have a child that was mine.
I answered the call. “Hello, Dorian. Do you have the results ready?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied calmly. “I will send them to your email right away.”
I ended the call and stepped outside the house. My driver immediately opened the car door, and I got in. As we drove toward the office, my attention stayed on my phone, waiting.
My mind drifted to Rhea. Instead of handling the real reason she came back, she had flown off to Miami for a few days of vacation.
Meanwhile, my father’s health was getting worse every day, and everything around me felt like it was slowly slipping out of control. If I didn’t act fast, everything could fall apart or worse, end up in Declan’s hands.
My phone beeped. I opened my email immediately. The moment I saw the attachment, my heart skipped. I opened the test result and froze.
The report stated clearly that the hair strand matched my DNA.
I stared at the screen, reading it again and again, hoping I had misunderstood. But the words didn’t change.
That was impossible. I hadn’t touched Rhea for three years before our divorce. Not once. So how did she get pregnant?
My hands trembled as I dialed the doctor’s number again. “Dorian,” I said the moment he answered, my voice unsteady, “are you absolutely sure this result is correct?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “I personally supervised the test. As you can see in the report, it was verified by three different laboratories. The result is accurate.”
The call ended, but I remained frozen in my seat. That meant only one thing.I had a five-year-old child somewhere in the world and Rhea had hidden him from me for five long years.
I clenched my jaw as anger and disbelief crashed over me at once. Hell was about to break loose.