Amelia’s POV
The silence after my words felt like a living, breathing thing.
I had said it.
I had finally broken open the secret I had carried alone for seven long years.
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And now it hung in the air between us, thick and poisonous, choking me more with every second Edmund didn’t speak.
My chest rose and fell rapidly, every breath jagged. My throat burned from screaming the words, but it wasn’t the shouting that left me raw, it was the truth itself.
“We weren’t even a real couple. I couldn’t bring her into that life.”
I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth as if I could shove the confession back inside, as if I could pretend I hadn’t just thrown my entire world onto the table and waited for him to shatter it.
Edmund’s eyes bore into me, sharp and unblinking, but not cruel. Confusion, anger, disbelief, they all fought for dominance across his features, and I didn’t know which one terrified me more.
Finally, his voice came, low, rough, almost strangled.“Amelia… tell me I heard wrong.”
I shut my eyes. “You didn’t.”
The sound he made wasn’t quite a laugh, wasn’t quite a groan, it was somewhere between heartbreak and fury. He ran both hands down his face, pacing away from me before spinning back around.
“My God.” His jaw flexed hard. “All these years, seven years, you let me walk around blind while my own daughter was right under
my
nose?”
The word daughter cracked something inside me. A sob tore free before I could stop it.“I was scared!” I cried, my voice echoing too loud in the office walls. “You think it was easy for me? You think I wanted to keep her a secret? I had no choice!”
He slammed his fist on the edge of my desk, and I flinched. Not from fear of him hurting me, but because it was the exact reaction I had dreaded. Explosive. Terrifying. Proof I had been right all along.
“No choice?” he demanded, his voice a whip. “You robbed me of the most basic right a father has, Amelia. You decided for me, decided I wasn’t worthy of knowing she even existed.”
“I decided she wasn’t ready for you!” I shot back, stepping closer, tears blurring my vision. “Do you even remember who you were back then? Cold. Distant. Our marriage wasn’t even real, Edmund, it was a contract, a damn business transaction! You barely looked for the first six months of the marriage. And you made it very clear in the contract that a baby was absolutely not part of the deal. I couldn’t bring a baby into where she wasn’t wanted. Not when I knew what rejection could do.”
His face twisted bee thi
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Danl
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Chapter 40
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“You thought I’d reject her?” His voice dropped, hoarse, almost sad in its vulnerability. “Reject my own
blood?”
My shoulders shook as I hugged myself. “Even though I was so sure we began to feel something for each other, Every day of that contract, You made it clear I was nothing more than a placeholder, a name on a piece of paper. Why would I gamble her heart on the chance you’d be different?”
Silence fell again, broken only by my quiet sobbing. Edmund pressed his fingers into his temples, pacing like a caged animal. I knew that look, his mind was calculating, dissecting, searching for control where there was
none.
When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, steadier, but no less dangerous.
“How old is she?”
I froze, the question cutting me in half. He already knew the answer. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But still, he wanted to hear me say it.
I swallowed hard. “Six. She’ll be seven in October.”
His eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were glassy. He dragged a hand down his face like the weight of the years was finally crashing into him.
“Six years. Six birthdays. Six Christmas mornings.” His voice cracked, and he looked at me like I had committed the worst betrayal possible. “Do you have any idea what you’ve taken from me?”
The words pierced me deeper than any insult ever could. I staggered back against the edge of the desk, my legs trembling. “I know,” I whispered, my voice shredded. “I know what I took. And I live with it every single day. Every time she asks why she doesn’t have a daddy like the other kids. Every time I lie to her face and tell her she’s not missing anything. I carry it, Edmund. You think you’re the only one who lost something?”
The room blurred. My hands clenched the desk so tightly my knuckles turned white.
“I lost myself in that decision. I lost years of sleep, years of peace. But I did it because I had to protect her. Because I couldn’t risk you tossing her aside since she wasn’t part of the plan.”
He recoiled, his chest heaving, eyes flashing with disappointment. “Don’t you dare compare the two. Don’t you dare.”
I laughed bitterly through my tears. “Why not? It’s the truth. I wasn’t good enough to give you a baby, so why would she have been good enough to be loved as your daughter?”
That broke him. I saw it, the flicker of devastation before he masked it with fury again. He stepped closer, invading my space, his voice low but cutting.
“You should have given me the chance, Amelia. Even if you hated me, you should have given me her.”
The dam burst. I crumpled to the floor, knees hitting the carpet, my sobs ripping through me uncontrollably. “I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it!”
And then, the words tumbled out, everything I had buried, everything I had carried alone.
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Chapter 40
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“I was alone, Edmund. Do you understand that? Completely alone. No husband. No family who would understand. I only had Leyla to hold my hand when I found out I was pregnant. I had to face the doctors, the sickness, the fear, all of it, by myself. Because what was I supposed to do? Call you? Beg you to come home to your contract wife and the mistake you’d never wanted?”
His breath hitched, but I pressed on, the flood unstoppable.
“i was broken for months,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Piece by piece. Every night I cried myself to sleep because I knew that I had to take care of this child alone. She was the only good thing I had left, and I swore I’d protect her, even if it meant keeping her from you.”
My head dropped into my hands. My body shook so hard I could barely breathe.
The room was silent again, but this time I was too consumed by my grief to notice. I didn’t know if Edmund was still standing there, if he had walked out, if he was watching me fall apart.
All I knew was that I had finally said it. All of it.
The secret was gone.
But at what cost?
Slowly, I forced myself to lift my head. Edmund was still there, frozen, his expression unreadable. His eyes glistened, but no tears fell. His jaw clenched and unclenched like he was fighting a war inside himself.
I searched his face desperately, looking for some sign of hope, some crack of softness, but there was nothing I could cling to. Just silence.
The kind of silence that could mean everything was lost.
My lips trembled. My chest ached like it might collapse inward.
“i couldn’t afford to lose her,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
That was the truth beneath it all. Not just fear of rejection. Not just fear of him hating me.
Fear of losing the only person I had left.
Tears blinded me as I reached out for something, anything to steady myself. My hand found the edge of the desk, but it wasn’t enough. The weight of it all dragged me down, and I folded onto the carpet again, curling into myself like a child.
The last thing I saw before my vision blurred completely was Edmund’s face, torn, furious, wounded, and utterly unreadable.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
