All Chapters of While Marrying Mr. Steele: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

(Amelia’s POV)“I swear to God. I'll kill him if he comes near you again.”“Ethan, please. Calm down.” I cajoled. The words hung in the hospital room, heavy as stone. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, still gripping my hand like if he let go I’d disappear. His eyes were hard, locked on mine, and I knew there was no dodging him this time.“Tell me everything,” he said.I shifted, the sheets rustling under me. My wrist ached, my stomach still tight from the false contractions. “Ethan—”“No.” His voice cut sharper than I’d ever heard it. “No more stalling. I walk in here and find you hooked up to machines, terrified out of your mind, and Leo’s name on your lips. I deserve the truth.”I pressed my lips together, staring down at our hands. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, steady but tense.Finally, I whispered, “He grabbed me. That’s how it started. I confronted him about Dr. Marks—about him disappearing after Leo came around. Leo didn’t like that.”Ethan’s head tilted slightly. “Dr. Ma

Amelia’s POVThe ocean was darker than I thought it would be. No stars, just black water stretching out forever. The waves slapped against the pier like they were angry with us.I guess they had every right to be. We killed someone.Ethan and Marks carried the bundle between them. I followed a few steps behind, arms wrapped around myself, hoodie pulled tight. My legs shook with every step.“Careful,” Ethan muttered.Marks snorted. “It’s not like he cares if we drop him.”“Shut up,” Ethan said. His jaw was tight, sweat shining on his forehead even in the cold.I whispered, “Are you sure about this?”Ethan glanced at me. “You want him in the middle of the living room instead?”I shook my head. My throat was dry. “No. Just—”“Then help us finish it,” Marks cut in. His tone was almost cheerful, like this was some errand instead of dumping a body.We reached the edge of the pier. Ethan and Marks counted to three, then heaved. The splash was loud, heavy, and final. Ripples spread out into

Ethan’s POVThe private lounge we were meant to eat at smelled like lemon polish and old money at six in the morning. Too early for music, too early for chatter, just the hum of the air vents and the squeak of my shoes on marble.I was running on coffee and nerves. Amelia had still been asleep when I left, her hand curled over her stomach like she was guarding the baby in her dreams. I hated walking out, but there was no way around it.Sienna was already there, leaning against the long bar in the lounge, sipping water like it was champagne.“You’re late,” she said.“It’s six-oh-five,” I answered, tugging off my jacket.“Five minutes late is still late.”I dropped the jacket over a chair. “You sound like Veronica.”She smirked. “She taught me well.”I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake the tension. “Let’s just get this over with.”Sienna walked toward me, heels clicking on the polished floor. She’d dressed sharp, fitted dress that clung too close for a morning practice. Not accident

Ethan’s POVBy the time I made it back to the penthouse, I smelled like stale coffee and printer ink. Another day wasted in meetings that solved nothing.I expected Amelia to be curled up in bed. Instead, she was in the kitchen wearing one of my shirts, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, humming while she stirred something on the stove.The knot in my shoulders loosened instantly. “Domestic goddess?” I asked, dropping my briefcase by the door.She turned, spoon in hand. “Don’t sound so shocked. Pregnant women still cook.”I walked over, kissed the top of her head, and peeked in the pan. “That’s not cooking, that’s bribery. You’re trying to keep me from ordering takeout again.”The penthouse smelled like garlic and butter. Amelia had insisted on cooking, even though I told her I’d bring takeout.“Sit down,” she said, waving me toward the couch as she pulled a pan off the stove. “You look dead on your feet.”“I’ve been worse,” I said, loosening my tie.She shot me a look. “You’re not im

Ryan’s POVThe mini bar in the house was empty except for the two of us. Veronica liked it that way.The house was her domain, her rules. She sat in the corner booth, swirling a glass of red like it was an extension of her hand. Always polished, always in control. Or at least she liked to think so.So here I was, standing in the doorway, the smell of her perfume already thick in the air. She lounged on the white leather couch like she owned the world, a half-empty glass of wine resting by her side.“Ryan,” she said smoothly, “you kept me waiting.”I smirked. “You didn’t have anywhere else to be.”Her eyes narrowed. “Still as rude as ever. Sit down.”I walked in but didn’t sit. I leaned against the wall instead, arms crossed. “You wanted to see me. Talk.”She tilted her head, studying me the way she always did, like I was something she could dissect and put back together. “You’ve been… busy lately. Where have you been? You came late yesterday and now today. Are you cheating on me?”I s