CHAPTER 3

​Amelia lay stretched out on the sofa, her cheek resting against a cushion. Her eyes were heavy, slipping shut as fatigue took over. She had spent hours sitting in the quiet, watching the hands on the clock move past seven, then eight, then nine.

Every few minutes, she checked her phone, but the screen remained completely blank. No texts. No calls.

​Just as she was drifting off to sleep, the metallic click of the front door lock echoed through the foyer.

​Amelia jolted awake. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes as the heavy wooden door swung open. Adrian stepped into the apartment. In his right hand, he carried his leather flight bag.

​A sudden, overwhelming wave of relief washed over Amelia. Her shoulders dropped, and the knot that had been twisting in her stomach for hours instantly loosened.

​He has his flight bag, she thought, a small, breathless laugh escaping her lips. Natalie was wrong. He really was at the airport or dealing with travel issues.

​She stood up from the sofa, smoothing her clothes down, and walked toward the entrance to greet him.

​"Adrian," she said, her voice soft with relief. "I was so worried. I tried calling you several times, but it went straight to voicemail."

​Adrian set his flight bag down on the floor near the door. He looked tired. His hair was slightly messy, his tie was loosened at the collar, and his suit jacket was unbuttoned.

​"Hey," he said, offering her a faint, quick smile. "Sorry about that, Amelia. It's been an absolute nightmare of an evening."

​Amelia reached out to take his coat, stepping close to wrap her arms around his waist. "What happened? Was your flight canceled?"

​But as she leaned in against his chest, her body froze.

​A sharp, sweet smell hit her nose immediately. It wasn't the clean, woody cologne he always wore. It was a strong, distinctly female perfume—rich, floral, and unfamiliar. Amelia didn't own a perfume like that.

​Then she caught the faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

​When she pulled back slightly to look at his face, she noticed the slight haze in his eyes and the way his movements were slightly loose and reckless. He had been drinking.

​Adrian didn't seem to notice her stiffness.

​"The plane was delayed on the tarmac for over an hour first, babe." Adrian said, walking toward the kitchen counter. He leaned against it, running a hand over his face. "Then they announced a mechanical malfunction and canceled the whole flight. By the time I got my bag back, it was almost eight."

​Amelia stayed near the foyer, turning around slowly to watch him. Her heart beat, which had just slowed down a moment ago, began to race again.

​"Why didn't you call me when the flight was canceled?" she asked carefully, keeping her tone completely neutral.

​Adrian picked up a glass from the drying rack, filled it with water from the tap, and drank half of it in one long gulp. He set the glass down with a soft click.

​"I didn't have time, babe." He said, turning to face her. "As soon as I walked out of the terminal, one of our local investors called me. He found out I was still in town and insisted we meet right away to discuss the contract terms for their perfume industry. I had to rush over to meet him for dinner."

​Amelia felt a cold chill settle deep in her stomach.

​"Where did you meet him?" she asked softly.

​Adrian hesitated for half a second. His eyes flicked to the side before returning to hers. "Just some quiet spot downtown. L'Orangerie. The guy insisted on eating there because he wanted me to meet his lady associate."

The mention of the exact restaurant name didn't trigger panic this time. Instead, a wave of profound shame washed through Amelia's chest.

Natalie’s photo. The dim lighting. The custom watch on the white tablecloth.

"Natalie had been mistaken, Adrian isn't cheating" She mused.

It hadn't been a secret romantic getaway. It had been an exhausting, forced business dinner that Adrian didn't even want to be at, squeezed in right after a miserable flight cancellation.

"Adrian," Amelia began, her voice dropping to a guilty whisper as she looked down at his tie. "Natalie was at L'Orangerie tonight."

Adrian blinked, a faint look of surprise crossing his face. "Natalie?"

"She... she saw you sitting at a corner booth," Amelia confessed, the words burning her throat. "She sent me a picture of a man wearing a watch that looked just like the custom one I bought you for our anniversary. She thought... she thought you were with another woman."

For a second, the foyer was completely silent.

Then, Adrian let out a soft, incredulous laugh. He didn't get angry or defensive. He simply shook his head, looking at her with an expression of gentle, pitying fondness—like a husband looking at a sweet, overly imaginative child.

"Amelia, are you serious?" Adrian reached up, cupping her cheek with his warm palm and tilting her head up so she had to look into his eyes. "You let Natalie get you this worked up over a blurry photo?"

"She was so sure, Adrian," Amelia murmured, her heart aching with guilt. "She said you were holding her hand—"

"I was helping the investor's associate look over a digital contract on my tablet across a cramped table," Adrian interrupted gently, his tone completely patient, completely reasonable. "The seating in that back booth is tiny. And as for the watch? Amelia, half the corporate executives in this city wear silver chronographs. Natalie saw a dark suit in a dim restaurant and let her drama get the better of her."

He stepped even closer, his gaze softening into pure warmth.

"You know how Natalie is," Adrian whispered, his thumb lightly brushing across her lip. "She's always looking for a story. But you're my wife, Amelia. You built this life with me. Do you really think I'd be sitting in a public restaurant in the middle of the city with someone else when I have you waiting at home?"

Every remaining shred of doubt inside Amelia crumbled to dust.

She felt small. She felt utterly foolish. For eight years, this man had taken care of her, protected her, and worked tirelessly to build Cross Enterprises. He had come home exhausted from a canceled flight and a high-stress dinner, only to find his wife harboring absurd suspicions based on gossip.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself tight against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Adrian. I shouldn't have doubted you. I should have trusted you."

"Hey," Adrian murmured into her hair, his arms tightening around her. "It's okay. Don't listen to outside noise, babe. Nobody knows our marriage except you and me."

He pulled back just enough to look at her lips. The tired look in his eyes shifted, replaced by a sudden, intense warmth that made Amelia's breath hitch.

"I spent all night wishing I was home with you instead of dealing with stubborn investors," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, husky register.

Before Amelia could speak, Adrian closed the distance between them. He cupped the back of her head, pulled her forward, and crashed his lips onto hers in a deep, desperate kiss.