Chapter 7
Ember, who had been quiet this whole time, suddenly stepped in front of me.
“Is the air too thin up there in Manhattan? She told you to go. You think you can do something that awful and erase it
with one apology? Why should she forgive you?”
She knew none of the details, yet her instinct to shield me was immediate. The three of them paled.
I pulled Ember gently behind me. ‘It’s alright.”
After all, ten years ago. I had already learned how merciless they could be.
Vincent stared at how I protected Ember and asked in a strained whisper, “Amelia… do you care more about an outsider
than us now?”
My expression cooled. “Outsider? You’re wrong. The only family I have left is Ember. She’s the only person in this world I
care about.”
If not for Ember, I would have died in the snow that night. She had still been a homeless girl then, yet she dragged my
unconscious body from the roadside all the way to a subway station.
When I woke up, dazed and broken. I picked up a shard of glass to cut my wrist. She threw herself at me, crying as she
pried the glass away.
“You’re so pretty, and you make the best cheesecake… why would you want to die? If people bully you, you have to live
even better!”
“If… if no one treats you right, then let me treat you right, okay?”
The half piece of bread she gave me was still warm from her hands.
The subway roared past us, wind whipping my hair, and when I looked into her dark, bright eyes, something in my heart
snapped painfully open.
Later we squeezed together in a ten-square-meter basement, sharing a single sandwich. We set up a little street stall and
ran for our lives whenever the police chased the vendors off the block.
And the day we finally scraped together enough money to buy this shop, we held each other and cried through the night.
It was Ember who gathered the broken pieces of me and pieced them back together into someone calm, gentle, and
whole. So anyone else could be an outsider, except her.
Their expressions were as if I had slapped all three of them across the face.
My mother whispered, trembling. “Then… what about us?”
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I smiled ‘I don’t hate you anymore
Their eyes brightened for a fleeting second, only to freeze at my next words.
“But that’s not forgiveness. It just doesn’t matter anymore.”
Silence smothered the shop.
I bent down to organize the counter, thinking they would finally leave. But Dominic spoke suddenly, his voice sounded like gravel grinding over silk.
“But we regret it, Amelia.”
He stared at me, searching desperately for even the slightest softening. He found none. My gaze was so calm it made him
panic, devoid of love, hatred, just a faint bewilderment.
Regret? Regret ruining me for Rhea?
After I disappeared, Dominic married her exactly as he wanted. Magazines published photos of them attending galas arm
in atm. Perfect couple.
The Ravello family gained protection through the marriage, their mafia grew rapidly, and everything flourished.
Every one of them had gotten exactly what they wanted. And now they regretted it?
I shook my head.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. This shop is closed. All three of you, please leave.”
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