บททั้งหมดของ While Marrying Mr. Steele: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

Amelia’s POVEthan’s voice was low, too measured, too calm—the kind of calm that wasn’t safety but danger dressed in silk.“Tell me right now, Amelia—why was he here?”The folder in my arms pressed hard against my ribs. It wasn’t weighty enough to protect me, but still, I clutched it like a shield. Paper and ink as armor. “I told you already. It’s about the clinic. Nothing else.”“Nothing else?” His brows rose, sharp with disbelief. “You expect me to believe Leo shows up at my building, at midnight, just to hand you a folder?”Each word fell with the precision of stone dropped into still water, ripples spreading, heavy, irreversible. My pulse darted beneath my skin. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”Ethan stepped closer. The marble wall cooled my spine as I instinctively backed away. Above us, the chandelier trembled faintly in the draft, crystal fragments scattering fractured light across his face. He wasn’t touching me—not yet—but his presence pressed in, a storm press

Amelia’s POV“Amelia—wait up!”Leo’s voice cut through the cool morning air just as I reached the clinic steps.I stopped, clutching my bag tighter, coffee steaming in my other hand. My body ached with exhaustion, but it wasn’t from lack of sleep—it was from replaying every second of last night on an endless loop. Ethan’s eyes. Sienna’s smirk. My hands in her hair, hers in mine. The papers scattered like bones across the marble.I turned slowly. Leo jogged the last few steps toward me, his dark hair rumpled, his coat half-buttoned. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” I said quietly. “If Ethan sees—”He shook his head, cutting me off. “Forget Ethan for a second. I came because… Amelia, it’s bad.”A cold coil twisted in my stomach. “Define bad.”He hesitated, searching my face like he was bracing me for impact. “Someone was there last night. A journalist. He recorded the fight in the lobby. It’s already online. And it’s spreading.”My b

Ethan’s POVMy knuckles hit her office door harder than I meant them to. The echo carried down the quiet hallway, far too loud in a place that prided itself on silence. My jaw was tight, my pulse hammering, but I told myself this was simple. I was here to check on her. To make sure she was all right after the storm of that damned video.But the second I heard voices on the other side—her voice, low and uneven, and a man’s voice I knew too well—all my reason snapped.Leo.I didn’t wait for her to answer. I pushed the door open.The scene inside hit me like a blade.Her office looked like the aftermath of a hurricane. Papers were strewn across the floor, books piled in messy heaps, pens scattered like debris from an explosion. And in the middle of the wreckage stood Amelia—her cheeks streaked with tears, her shoulders trembling—and Leo far too close to her, his hand just falling away from her face as if I hadn’t caught it in time.The sight sent fury tearing through me.“What the hell i

Amelia’s POV“Dr. Steele?”The voice came from my doorway, firm but not unkind. I looked up, blinking at the man framed in the hall. A dark suit, neatly pressed. A badge clipped to his belt.“Yes?” My throat was raw, and I hated that it sounded like I’d been crying.He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. His shoes barely made a sound against the tile. “Detective Harris. I’d like a few minutes of your time.”Every instinct in me stiffened. Something about the way he said it—measured, unhurried—made me feel cornered before he even sat down. “About what?”He closed the door gently behind him, setting his leather notebook on the edge of my desk. His movements were precise, almost careful, like he was trying not to spook me. “There are some questions coming up in the background of last night’s media coverage. Specifically, questions about your past.”The room seemed to shrink. The blinds over my office window swayed slightly from the draft, but the air still felt heavy, press

Amelia's povThe hospital shift had drained every ounce of strength from me, but I forced myself to move quickly toward the underground parking lot. My bag hung from one shoulder, heavy with charts and files, but not half as heavy as the pressure sitting in my chest. Another day of whispers. Another day of headlines flashing on waiting-room TVs, showing that cursed video.I just wanted to get home.But the moment I stepped past the stairwell toward the open lot, I felt eyes on me. A group waited near the far side of the concrete wall—four, maybe five of them—young, restless, clutching their phones like weapons. My heart sank. I didn’t need to guess why they were here.“There she is,” a girl’s voice rang out, dripping with triumph. “Dr. Steele, right?”I froze halfway to my car. “Can I help you?”“You can apologize,” she said, lifting her phone to record. “To Sienna. For what you did. Everyone saw it.”I forced my tone calm. “I don’t owe anyone an apology. You should go home.”Another