Chapter 156
Ethan
After the holiday in Hampton ended, we got to the city. As the car pulled up in front of the hotel, the doorman rushed forward, and I nodded in acknowledgment as he opened the door.
"I've arranged for your things to be moved to my suite," I said, placing my hand on the small of Amelia's back.
She turned to me with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't ask if that's what I wanted."
I couldn't help the half-smile that formed on my lips. "Would you prefer separate rooms?" I knew the answer before I asked.
"Shut up," she muttered, trying and failing to hide her smile as she watched the bellhop unload our luggage.
I leaned closer, enjoying the way she slightly tensed as my breath touched her ear. "I had Michael book another suite for Noah and Olivia. I figured we could use some privacy."
She smiled and took the kids to the elevator.
When we entered my suite, I guided the kids to the sofa, finding a children's channel on the TV. "Half an hour of cartoons, then you need to rest," I instructed, using the firm but gentle tone I was still perfecting.
Lucas, so serious and so much like me, nodded without shifting his gaze from the screen. Ella was already lost in the colorful animation. I watched them for a moment, still struck by how much they'd grown in my absence.
I found Amelia in the bedroom, unpacking our bags with methodical efficiency. The sight of her domestic movements in my space felt right in a way I couldn't articulate. I moved behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me, inhaling the scent of her hair.
"You know," I murmured against her neck, "I find myself wanting you more each time we're apart. Every separation just makes me miss you more."
She turned in my arms, her hands coming to rest on my chest. "Seems like your energy levels are still quite impressive, Mr. Black."
I felt heat building in my core as I looked into her eyes. "Only for you, Dr. Thompson."
She pushed me away playfully, but I caught the flush on her cheeks. "Don't start something you can't finish. The kids are right outside."
I sighed dramatically, though the restraint was genuinely difficult. "Just teasing. I need to head out soon. There's some business at the investment firm I need to handle." In reality, James's message about Margaret had been burning in my pocket since we landed.
"Go," she said, reaching up to smooth my collar—an unnecessary gesture that I found endearing. "I've been monopolizing your time for days. I almost forgot you're a CEO."
I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, treasuring the softness of her skin. "I'd much rather stay here with you."
"The business empire won't run itself," she reminded me with a smile. "We'll be fine. Maybe I'll take the kids to that pizza place they love."
My protective instincts immediately flared. "Just don't leave the hotel without letting me know. I'll have Michael stay nearby." I tried to keep my tone casual, not wanting to alarm her, but needing her to understand the importance.
I saw the question in her eyes, but thankfully, she didn't press. Instead, she nodded, and I grabbed my jacket, heading for the door with reluctance.
"I won't be long," I promised, my hand lingering on the doorknob as I took one last look at her. "Lock up behind me."
As I walked down the hallway, my mind was already shifting to the information James had waiting. Something about Margaret Thompson had been bothering me for years, and I was determined to uncover the truth—for Amelia's sake.
---
At the Blue Note bar, I strode into James's private office without knocking. The familiar scent of his expensive cigars hung in the air as he looked up from his desk, unsurprised by my abrupt entrance.
"You got here quickly," James observed, offering me a drink which I declined with a sharp shake of my head.
My focus zeroed in on the manila folder on his desk. "What did you find?" The urgency in my voice surprised even me.
I absently rubbed the scar on my palm, the wound still fresh and tender.
"That injury will heal," James said quietly, watching me, "but scars remind us of pain we've endured. You're planning to make everyone who hurt Amelia pay, aren't you?"
"Every last one of them," I confirmed, my voice cold even to my own ears. The rage I felt toward anyone who had hurt Amelia burned like ice in my veins.
James stood and walked to a modern art painting on the wall. He swung it open, revealing a hidden safe, and removed a thick folder that he handed to me.
"Margaret had been in regular contact with this man, John. Apparently, he's a distant cousin of hers who used to work in the medical examiner's office at the hospital," James said as I flipped through the documents, scanning names, dates, transactions.
"Used to?" I asked, studying a grainy surveillance photo of a nondescript middle-aged man.
"Got fired for tampering with DNA test results. Now he's some kind of chemical specialist." James paused, his expression darkening. "We intercepted him in Switzerland three days ago. He was trying to access one of Margaret's offshore accounts."
My head snapped up. "And?" The single word carried the weight of my growing dread.
James reached for his laptop. "I think you should see this for yourself."
He turned the screen toward me and pressed play on a video file. A middle-aged man with thinning gray hair sat at a metal table, looking nervous. The same man from the surveillance photo.
"State your name for the record," came a voice off-camera.
"John Mercer," the man replied, his voice shaky.
With each revelation from John's confession, I felt my blood pressure rising. John wasn't Margaret's cousin at all—he was her ex-boyfriend, and they had maintained a secret relationship for decades. Margaret had meticulously planned to marry Robert Thompson, carefully positioning herself to replace Amelia's mother.
"But I don't know about Elizabeth's death," John denied on the video.
"Emily isn't Robert's daughter," John continued, his voice barely audible. "She's mine. Margaret made me falsify the paternity test when Emily was born. Robert never suspected a thing."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. The implications crashed through my mind like a wrecking ball. "This will destroy Amelia when she finds out."
"And what about Emily?" James asked quietly. "She's still Amelia's sister, regardless of who her father is."
I paced the office, my mind racing. "Amelia's safety and happiness are my priority. I need time to figure out how to handle this."
As I left the office, my mind was already formulating a plan. Margaret Thompson would pay for what she'd done to Amelia's family. But first, I needed to figure out how to protect Amelia from the devastating truth while still giving her the justice she deserved.