All Chapters of My Forbidden Fruit : Chapter 71 - Chapter 77

Two months later.The grass beneath me was cool, still holding onto the memory of morning dew, even though the sun had long climbed higher. I lay flat on my back, arms loose at my sides, staring up at a sky too blue for the way my chest felt.Somewhere above, leaves whispered against one another. The garden was alive—birds calling, insects humming softly—but I felt detached from it all, as though I were watching life through glass.Two months.That was how long it had been since everything cracked open.In those weeks, I had searched.Not casually. Not half-heartedly.I searched through old files locked away in rooms no one visited anymore. Through documents my parents never meant for me to read.Through hospital records, boarding school reports, unsigned letters, and fragments of conversations that had once floated past me as a child, unnoticed and unimportant.I searched for the truth about my parents’ death.And for Amelia’s disappearance.What I found was never enough. Pieces wit

Before I could even think about replying, before my thumb could hover over the screen again, voices drifted up from downstairs. They were muted at first, polite, and unfamiliar. I paused. My phone was still warm in my hand, the email pressing heavily against my thoughts. I quickly locked the screen, flipped it face-down onto the bed, and stood up. For a moment, I debated staying put, pretending I hadn’t heard anything. But curiosity and something sharper took over. I stepped into the hallway and slowly descended the stairs, my hand brushing the banister, my movements careful. The voices became clearer with each step. At the bottom, I saw her. She stood near the entrance, framed by the soft glow of the foyer lights. She was a beautiful woman in a pale pink dress, the fabric flowing lightly around her legs as if it barely touched her skin. Her hair fell in long, loose curls down her back, glossy and purposeful, as if she had taken her time getting ready. She looked composed. Too com

I led her into the kitchen and gently guided her to one of the chairs by the island.She sat down stiffly, her shoulders folding inward the moment she did. Then—quietly—she began to cry.No sobs. No sounds.Just tears slipping down her face as she stared at the floor, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as if she were holding herself together by force alone.“Do you want anything?” I asked softly. “Water… tea?”She shook her head once. Then she looked up at me, eyes red-rimmed, searching.“You are…?” she asked, her voice hesitant, unfinished.I recognized it instantly.A diversion.She didn’t want to talk about what had just happened. About Lucas. About the pain clawing through her.So I answered.“Evelyn.I’m–” I stopped not knowing what to say.“Are you his-” I knew what she was implying.“My parents are no more,” I said quietly.Her eyes widened slightly.“After they died, Enzo’s step–older brother, Antonio, and his wife Lily became my guardians. Antonio was my father’s best fr