All Chapters of Loving You Is My Greatest Mistake : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Israelite's POVThe kiss hung in the air between us like smoke. I could still taste her on my lips and feel the ghost of her fingers in my hair and my heart pounded so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. Amelia stared at me with wide eyes that looked equal parts terrified and confused. We stood frozen in my apartment. Neither of us knew what to say or do next. The silence stretched so long it became painful.I forced myself to step back. Put distance between us before I do something stupid like kiss her again. My hands shook as I ran them through my hair. Tried to organize thoughts that were scattered in every direction. That kiss changed everything and nothing all at once. It answered questions I had been afraid to ask and raised a dozen more I did not know how to handle."Israelite," Amelia started. Voice small and uncertain."Give me a second," I said. Needed time to breathe. To think. To figure out what I felt beyond the overwhelming urge to pull her back into my arms. I walk

Amelia's POVI stared at my reflection in the restaurant bathroom mirror and barely recognized the woman looking back. Three months ago I had been dying. Two months ago I had been healing. Last week I kissed Israelite and felt something I thought was dead inside me come alive again. Now I sat in an upscale restaurant waiting to have the conversation I should have had years ago with my ex-husband.The decision to meet Maxwell came after two sleepless nights and a long talk with my therapist. I needed closure. Real closure that came from honest conversation instead of assumptions and hurt feelings. I needed to understand what broke us before I could decide if anything was worth salvaging. More importantly, I needed to understand my own part in our failure.I walked back to the table on unsteady legs. Maxwell sat exactly where I left him. He looked different somehow. Older maybe. Or just more present than he used to be. He wore a simple shirt instead of the designer suits he usually fa

Amelia's POVThe lawyer's office smelled like old books and expensive coffee. I sat across from Mr. Peterson who had been Catherine Cross's attorney for two decades and tried to process what he just told me. Ten million dollars. Catherine left ten million dollars in a trust fund for Lily. My six year old daughter now had more money than most people would see in ten lifetimes."I do not understand," I said. "Why would she do this?"Mr. Peterson adjusted his glasses. He looked tired. Probably spent the last week dealing with Catherine's assets being seized and liquidated. "Mrs. Cross was very specific about her intentions. She wanted to provide for Lily because Nathan would have wanted it. The trust cannot be touched until Lily turns eighteen and even then it has strict guidelines. Education, medical expenses, and property purchase. Nothing frivolous.""Ten million dollars," I repeated the number like saying it again would make it make sense."Actually," Mr. Peterson cleared his throat

Emma's POVThe apartment was small and nothing like the luxury condo Sophia paid for when I was under her spell. One bedroom with a tiny kitchen and windows that overlooked a parking lot instead of the city skyline. But it was mine. Paid for with my own money from a job I earned through actual work instead of manipulation. That made it beautiful in ways Sophia's world never was.I sat on the secondhand couch I bought from a thrift store and looked around at my new life. Six months since I cut ties with Sophia. Six months of rebuilding myself from scratch. Some days felt impossible. Like I was trying to construct a house with no foundation and no blueprint. Other days felt like progress. Small victories that added up to something resembling normalcy.Therapy helped. Dr. Richardson specialized in toxic family dynamics and cult mentality. She helped me understand how Sophia groomed me over the years. Made me dependent on her approval. Twisted my perception until I could not tell right fr

 Amelia's POV I stood in the Lumière showroom and looked at the spring collection displayed on custom mannequins. Twelve months ago I was in Switzerland finishing cancer treatment and wondering if I would live to see another season. Now my designs hung in one of the most prestigious fashion houses in the city and critics were calling the collection my best work yet. The irony was not lost on me. "It is beautiful," Eleanor said beside me. "Truly, Amelia. You have outdone yourself." "Thank you." I touched the fabric of a silk evening gown. Felt the texture under my fingers and remembered sketching this design during a sleepless night six months ago. "I still cannot believe people actually want to wear my creations." "Stop that. You are talented and you know it. Own your success for once." She was right. A year ago I would have deflected comp