Chapter 180
Amelia
I knelt before Grandpa William's headstone, gently wiping away the thin layer of dust with my fingertips. The cemetery was peaceful today, bathed in soft afternoon light filtering through the oak trees. Unlike my previous visits when grief had overwhelmed me, today I felt a strange calmness settling over my heart.
"I wish you hadn't left me so many questions, Grandpa," I whispered, tracing the engraved letters of his name. "But I understand now why you did what you did." The words flowed easier than I expected.
A gentle breeze rustled through nearby trees, almost as if he was listening.
"I'm not angry anymore," I continued, arranging the fresh white roses I'd brought. "I'm getting married soon—officially this time. To Ethan." I smiled, imagining Grandpa's knowing look. "You'd be happy to know I'm doing well. Benjamin, George, and the whole family have welcomed me." I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. "The kids are thriving. I wish you could see them now."
I sat in silence for a few moments, letting the peace of the cemetery wash over me. In this quiet moment, I felt closer to him than I had since his death.
When I finally stood, my knees ached from kneeling so long. I turned to see Ethan waiting patiently by the path, his tall figure framed by afternoon sunlight. He extended his hand as I approached.
Ethan's arm slid around my waist as we navigated the narrow, uneven path. "Amelia," he said, his voice low and earnest, "from now on, I promise the road ahead will have only happiness, no tears. You've cried enough."
"There's someone I'd like you to meet tomorrow," Ethan said as we reached his car. "Someone who knew your mother."
My heart skipped a beat. "Who?"
"The head chef at Black Rose. He recognized the cooking techniques I described from your dishes—said they reminded him of someone he once knew."
I looked at him, surprised. "My mother's friend? How did you—"
"I've been trying to get information from him for months, but he wouldn't talk until I mentioned you. He's agreed to meet us tomorrow morning."
I squeezed his hand. "Of course I want to meet him."
---
The next morning, Ethan drove us to Black Rose. The restaurant was empty at this hour, and a staff member led us to a private dining room at the back. When we entered, I saw a distinguished man in his sixties with salt-and-pepper hair wearing a crisp chef's jacket.
He turned as we entered, and his face froze. "My God," he whispered. "You have her eyes."
Ethan stepped forward. "Amelia, this is Chef Albert."
"You knew my mother?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The chef approached slowly. "I was Karen's instructor, and later her friend. She had an exceptional talent—intuitive with flavors in a way few people are. That's why I recognized the description of your cooking."
"So you're the one my father accused of having an affair with my mother?" I asked directly.
His eyes widened slightly. "Yes, though nothing inappropriate ever happened while she was my student. Later, after she graduated..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
"You fell in love with her," I stated.
He nodded reluctantly. "I did, but we never... There were complications."
"What kind of complications?" I pressed.
Chef Albert glanced at Ethan before continuing. "My mother worked for the Astor family for forty years. She was involved when your mother was forced to leave the family."
My breath caught. "The Astors—my mother's family?"
"Yes. When my mother was dying, she made me promise to help Karen reconnect with the Astors. But I was selfish. I wanted Karen for myself."
I felt Ethan's hand on mine as Chef Albert continued.
"After she married Robert, I was devastated. I... attempted to take my own life. Karen found out and came to see me in the hospital." His voice cracked. "That's when Margaret saw her. She used that innocent visit to convince Robert that Karen was unfaithful."
A memory suddenly flashed through my mind—being five years old, holding my mother's hand in a hospital corridor. "I was there," I gasped. "I remember you."
The chef looked surprised. "Yes, you were so small. Karen couldn't find a sitter that day."
Margaret had used that innocent visit to poison my father against my mother—and by extension, me. The revelation hit like a physical blow.
"I'm sorry," the chef said, his eyes glistening. "I've carried this guilt for years. I... I don't know what I should do now that I've told you. Perhaps it's time for me to leave this city."
"Please," I said, surprising myself. "Would you consider preparing the food for our wedding? My mother would have wanted that, I think."
His expression softened with unexpected hope. "It would be my honor. And perhaps... a chance for redemption."
---
Three days later, I stood in Manhattan's most exclusive bridal salon. Rachel and Olivia were laughing as they tried on bridesmaid dresses in shades of pale blue, while Ethan, James, and Noah lounged in the waiting area, looking thoroughly out of place.
"Mr. Black," the salon director approached Ethan, "your three custom suits are ready for final fitting whenever you'd like."
I changed into a breathtaking white silk gown inside the fitting room. The strapless bodice was covered with a sheer panel of delicate tulle extending to my collarbone, hand-embroidered with tiny diamonds. The multilayered skirt cascaded around me like a cloud.
Before leaving the fitting room, I took off the gown and approached the designer to discuss the tweaks I wanted. Once everything was finalized, I went back to Ethan. He looked at me with concern.
"Is everything alright? Did you not like that dress?"
I shook my head and said, "The dress is beautiful, but I'd like them to make some adjustments. And..." I hesitated, smiling shyly, "I want to keep it a surprise for our wedding day. I was thinking we could do a first look moment before the ceremony—just you and me."
His eyebrows rose in surprise. "You want me to wait until our wedding day to see the final dress?"
"Yes," I nodded. "I know it sounds traditional, but I want that moment to be special. When you see me for the first time, walking toward you..."
Ethan's expression softened, and he took my hand, bringing it to his lips. "Then I'll wait. But know that no matter what you wear, you'll take my breath away."
I gave instructions to the designer about the modifications, then rejoined Rachel and Olivia, who were still debating between dress styles.
Watching Ethan, James, and Noah laugh together in the salon, a warm feeling welled up inside me. Because the day was drawing so close, I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he saw me in my wedding dress. Every ounce of anticipation burned in my heart.