Chapter 22 Lu's Decadence, Once Two People Now Only Him
Tears kept falling like they would never stop.
Why was it that she could never hold onto what she wanted to keep?
Her family, her lover, the Martinez family, and... her child.
She couldn't hold onto any of them.
She tried everything to grasp it all, but it was like sand slipping through her fingers—no matter how tightly she held on, they all disappeared in the end.
So powerless.
Amelia's hand covered her stomach, then clenched into a fist.
Still not strong enough.
She couldn't stay by anyone's side temporarily, couldn't rely on anyone as her safe harbor.
She had to work hard.
Her career—she had to hold it in her hands.
The Martinez family—she had to restore it.
The truth about Jasper's death—she had to uncover it.
She would give it everything she had, and then it wouldn't hurt anymore.
Amelia cried for a long time, until finally there were no more tears.
That painful feeling seemed to have disappeared too, and she became numb all over.
Being without joy or sorrow wasn't so bad.
Thinking this way, Amelia felt she could keep going.
When Mia and Jeffrey came back, Amelia had already pulled herself together.
"Here, Amelia, drink this porridge." Mia opened the thermos container, smiling warmly. "Try it and see if you like it."
Amelia took it. It smelled wonderful.
Under Mia's expectant gaze, she took a sip. The taste lingered pleasantly.
"It's really good," Amelia said.
"If it's good, have some more." Mia looked at Amelia's pale face and said, "Get better soon."
Amelia nodded firmly.
She would get better.
Jeffrey also told her about some things he'd learned from talking to people earlier.
While they were talking here, somewhere else—
William opened his eyes on the sofa.
Covering him was the suit jacket he'd worn yesterday, and the ashtray on the side table was full of cigarette butts.
This was his apartment near the company. When work got really busy, he'd stay here temporarily. After marrying Amelia, he rarely stayed here anymore.
The throbbing in his head made him uncomfortable. Instinctively, he picked up his phone from the side.
He touched the message page and scrolled down, unconsciously skipping countless messages, flipping through several pages to find Amelia's chat.
There was still only that one message he'd sent her back then—[I told Grandpa yesterday you weren't feeling well so you didn't come. This weekend, you have to come home with me.]
His brow furrowed slightly as he tossed the phone aside.
William sat up, rubbed his temples, then stood and walked barefoot across the floor to the bathroom.
He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face.
Trying to wake himself up quickly.
But strangely, what flashed through his mind was many years ago, when he'd pulled several all-nighters for company business and felt this same grogginess.
Back then, Amelia had been by his side. She worked hard alongside him, handling company affairs with him, going through the company's changes together.
He remembered that day—he'd also used cold water to wake himself up quickly, and Amelia had stood beside him holding a clean towel.
When she saw him turn around, she wiped the water from his face like she was drying a puppy, then rubbed his wet hair with the towel.
When he frowned and took the towel away, she reached up to gently massage his temples.
"Does that feel better?" Her gentle voice still echoed in his ears.
Hearing her voice, his exhausted heart seemed to calm down a bit.
"We should have results today, right?" she'd said then. "William, what do you want to eat? I'll make it for you tonight."
He'd been to restaurants all over the world for business dinners and other reasons, but his favorite was still the food she made for him with her own hands.
Simple, homey, but warm enough.
That day, before he could say what he wanted to eat, the phone had rung.
The news was unexpectedly good.
Better than he'd imagined.
He put down his phone, turned and hugged her, spinning her around right there by the sink.
His sudden action startled her, and when he set her down, her eyes still held a deer-like panic.
So cute.
He'd chuckled softly and kissed her.
The faucet water continued to run into the sink.
Many years later, William looked up at himself in the mirror.
Water dripping down his face, water dripping from his hair.
His eyes were bloodshot, looking tired and worn out.
Now, standing by this sink, he was alone.
His brow furrowed. William turned off the faucet, took a clean towel from the nearby cabinet, and dried himself off.
He tossed the towel into the laundry basket and walked to the closet to get today's clothes.
Shirt, pants, suit—but when he reached for a tie, he stopped.
This apartment had no spare ties.
When Amelia was still around, these things were never missing.
William pressed his lips together tightly.
What flashed before his eyes was last night—Amelia falling down the stairs, looking at him with those disbelieving, hurt eyes.
Just then, the apartment doorbell rang.
William opened the door to find Isabella standing there.
When Isabella saw him, she gave a fragile yet sweet smile.
"William, good morning! I brought you fresh flowers, look!"
What came toward him was Isabella's latest flower arrangement, blooming fragrantly. Combined with Isabella's smile, there was a fragile, breakable beauty about her.
It made one want to protect her.
What flashed through his mind was Dash standing in the wind at dawn, saying to him—
"If you like Isabella, then stay with Isabella forever. However Amelia is doing, you shouldn't care."
"William, the only thing you can do now is let her go."
William's lips pressed together slightly.
Dash's high-and-mighty lecturing manner disgusted him.
Was Amelia using this method to make him back down?
Throwing tantrums, acting, and now trying to make him jealous by getting close to Dash?
He hated this feeling of being out of control.
"What's wrong, William? Don't you like these flowers?" Isabella asked softly from the side.
His thoughts returned. William reached out to take the flowers.
"No," he said.
If Amelia wanted to pressure him this way, then he would let her know he was never someone who could be easily coerced!
"I like them very much," William said to Isabella.
Isabella only had six months left.
Her illness—he was partly responsible for it. He needed to take care of her. This was his responsibility.
"That's good." Isabella smiled again.
Later, the two left together.
Paparazzi followed and photographed them.
Before long, an explosive post swept the trending topics—
"William and Isabella leaving an apartment together, and the always meticulous William isn't wearing a tie—did he forget, or...?"
Accompanying it were photos of Isabella bringing flowers to William's apartment that morning, the two leaving the building together, and so on.
In no time, it sparked curious attention from internet users.
People online said all sorts of things, but the one thing that was different this time was that Amelia officially responded.