Chapter 30
As he pulled away, the desire in my eyes instantly vanished without a trace, leaving only undercurrents stirring beneath.
I tugged at my clothes and followed him to the stairway, looking down.
There sat Isabella at the landing, clutching her knee, her little face scrunched up, crying pitifully.
James hurried over, frowning deeply, bending down as if to check on her.
Just then, Amelia rushed out from some corner, looking panicked. "Isabella, my baby, how did you fall? Does it hurt?"
She ran quickly to Isabella's side and crouched down, but her movements seemed deliberately positioned to block James's view.
However, when she looked up, seemingly about to say something to James, her gaze suddenly froze, landing directly on James's neck.
Because of what had just happened, the top two buttons of James's shirt had somehow come undone, his collar slightly open, revealing his collarbone and a small patch of firm chest.
And right there, just above his collarbone, a clear kiss mark was faintly visible.
The color drained from Amelia's face bit by bit, turning pale, as if she'd been punched in the face.
Her breathing suddenly became rapid. Her gaze traveled up from James's neck and finally landed on me, standing at the top of the stairs, taking it all in.
Her eyes showed shock first, then overwhelming jealousy and venom.
Then all these intense emotions were forcibly suppressed, transforming into a fragile, tearful vulnerability.
She lowered her head, raised her hand to cover her chest, her body swaying slightly, her voice weak and faint. "James, I suddenly feel unwell; my chest feels so tight."
James's attention was immediately drawn away from the fake-crying Isabella.
Seeing Amelia's pale face and unsteady appearance, his frown deepened, his tone obviously anxious.
"What's wrong? I'll take you to the hospital right away!"
"No need for the hospital..." Amelia quickly shook her head, tears falling at just the right moment.
She lifted her teary eyes to look at James, her gaze filled with sorrow and dependence. "I just suddenly thought of Jasper. If he were here, Isabella wouldn't be left unattended. James, I miss him so much... Could you stay with me?"
Her words, every sentence mentioning the deceased Jasper, every sentence reminding James of her helplessness and her need for him.
This move of Amelia's worked perfectly on James.
Complex emotions flashed in James's eyes—nostalgia for Jasper, and even more, pity for Amelia's current vulnerability.
He barely hesitated before bending down and carefully lifting Amelia into his arms, his movements gentle, as if holding some fragile treasure.
"Don't be afraid, I'll take you back to your room to rest." He soothed her in a low voice, not even glancing at Isabella, who was still sitting on the ground with much quieter crying, and strode toward Amelia's bedroom carrying her.
As for Isabella, who had been clutching her knee in pain, the moment she saw James carry Amelia away, her crying stopped instantly.
She nimbly got up from the ground and dusted off her dress without any sign of pain from falling.
She held the stair railing and walked up step by step. When she passed by me, she stopped.
Though Isabella was only five years old, her face now showed a maturity and coldness completely inappropriate for her age, even a hint of smugness.
She looked up at me, her tone as mature as an adult's. "Hey, did you see that? My dad cares most about me and my mom."
She tilted her head provocatively. "You'd better know your place and stop interfering with my dad and mom's relationship. You're not worthy!"
She said this with perfect clarity.
Looking at Isabella's face, so similar to Amelia's and full of scheming, I felt no anger, only sympathy for Amelia.
Such a young child had already been taught to play mind games, using James's guilt and pity to achieve her goals.
I crouched down to meet her eyes, my gaze calm, my voice emotionless, simply stating an objective fact. "Isabella, this trick of pretending to fall might work once or twice."
My eyes swept over her knee, which she'd been clutching but now showed no marks. "But you should know, stairs are dangerous places. If you keep pretending to fall like this, one of these times, the fake fall might become a real fall, and then you might actually hurt yourself badly."
Isabella hadn't expected me to say this. She froze for a moment, then like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her little face flushed red as she shrilly retorted.
"You're lying! I won't get hurt! You're cursing me, bad woman! I'm telling my dad !" As she spoke, she was about to shout loudly.
I immediately raised a finger to my lips in a "shush" gesture, my eyes sharp, my whole face seeming covered with a layer of cold frost, frightening. "If you don't want to disturb them, shut up."
My gaze pointedly glanced toward Amelia's tightly closed bedroom door.
Isabella was still a child after all. Intimidated by the coldness in my eyes and the implication in my words, her open mouth froze there, the shout stuck in her throat, unable to come out.
She looked at me, fear flashing in her eyes, but more than that, defiance.
I paid her no more attention, stood up, straightened my clothes, as if I'd just dealt with some trivial matter.
I turned and walked straight back to my room.
Closing the door, I dialed Robert's number.
Outside the window, night was falling. The villa was eerily quiet.
About ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Robert was quite efficient.
I got up, smoothed my slightly wrinkled clothes, and pulled a flawless yet slightly worried expression in front of the mirror.
Acting—who couldn't do that?
I walked to the entrance and opened the door. Robert was indeed standing outside with a medical kit, looking anxious, with fine beads of sweat on his forehead.
Seeing me, he almost reflexively flinched, his eyes evasive, but he didn't forget to greet me respectfully. "Mrs. Smith."
"Robert, you're here. Please come in." My tone was normal, with just the right amount of urgency.
"Amelia suddenly said she wasn't feeling well. James is very worried. Sorry to trouble you to come over." I stepped aside to let him in, then naturally walked ahead to lead the way.
Robert followed closely behind me. I could feel his tense nerves.
At Amelia's bedroom door, I knocked gently.
There was no response from inside.
I knocked a few more times. The room remained silent.
"Strange, could she be asleep?" I muttered in feigned confusion, then tried the doorknob—the door wasn't locked.
I pushed open the door. The room was empty, the bed neat, clearly not slept in.