His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 18

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 18

The week Amelia spent with Julian was the happiest she’d had in Maine.

He became her “exclusive driver and guide,” taking her to eat the best lobster rolls, finding the most hidden viewpoint on the sea cliffs, and spending a rainy afternoon with her exploring every old bookstore in town. Amelia posted several photos on Instagram, pictures where she was smiling from the heart for the first time in a long while. Julian took every one. His clumsy photography and sincere praise made her feel an unprecedented ease.

Meanwhile, in Boston, Griffin was planning a grand “celebration” of his own.

After countless instances of Daphne pouting and complaining, he finally decided to give her a real surprise. He spent an entire week working around the clock, handling all Whitaker Foundation affairs for the next month, just so he could free up enough time to take Daphne on a romantic trip through Europe.

Daphne was ecstatic. That night, she prepared a steak dinner at her downtown penthouse to celebrate their “new beginning.”

To leave directly from Daphne’s place the next day, Griffin finally remembered the Beacon Hill house he shared with Amelia. He needed to go back and pack. When he pushed open the heavy oak door, the thick kraft envelope was lying quietly on the entry table, as if it had been waiting for him.

He finally remembered it. He tore open the seal impatiently, assuming it was just some boring document needing his signature.

But the contents made the displeasure on his face freeze.

There was no letter.

Only evidence.

Eight dinner place cards printed with his name, each one representing a public abandonment. Several printed screenshots of texts he had sent Amelia: “Something came up. Can’t get away.” “Something happened with Daphne. I have to go.” One was from the day he’d missed the unveiling of her mother’s memorial garden.

At the very bottom was a clinic appointment cancellation notice. Clearly printed on it were Amelia’s name and the item: “IVF Consultation.”

Griffin’s face darkened.

He threw the stack of papers onto the table and strode into the master bedroom. He just wanted to grab a few clothes and leave this suffocating place. But when he opened the walk-in closet, he froze completely.

It was more than half empty.

All of Amelia’s clothes, handbags, and shoes were gone. The Jo Malone English Pear & Freesia scent she always used had faded from the air, leaving only a cold, unfamiliar emptiness. The photo of them on the nightstand was gone. Her toiletries in the bathroom had vanished without a trace.

Only then did he remember that in the days before she left, Amelia had been quietly packing. He had asked, and she had answered lightly, “Just organizing for the change of season.”

So that hadn’t been a casual remark.

It had been goodbye.

A nameless anger sprang up from the bottom of his heart. *Amelia, well done. Just because I spent a little more time with Daphne, you gave up on this marriage everyone envied? Was that past version of you, the one who loved me to the bone, all an act? Is your love really that fragile?*

He questioned her furiously in his mind, but his chest felt strangely tight, as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart, making it hard to breathe.

No. It shouldn’t be like this. He had always loved Daphne. Amelia was just… the most respectable and suitable choice for a wife in Boston society. Yes. That was all. He repeated the words to himself like a mantra, trying to suppress the strange, unfamiliar panic.

Full of gloom, Griffin drank too much whiskey during dinner with Daphne. Under the influence of alcohol and her gentle seduction, everything happened naturally.

At midnight, he lay in Daphne’s bed, holding the woman he had ostensibly pursued for half his life. But after she fell into a satisfied sleep, Griffin lay awake, staring into the darkness.

He had finally gotten his prize, yet his heart felt hollow, like an old barn scoured by sea wind. In the dark, Amelia’s face flashed through his mind: sitting quietly at dinners, smiling as she straightened his tie, standing before the empty closet and saying, “Just organizing for the change of season.”

One scene after another.