His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 36

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 36

“I apologize,” Amelia said, standing on tiptoe to press a soothing kiss to his lips. “I was too absorbed and neglected you. To make it up to you, I’ve already booked tickets for Broadway next week.”

Julian’s eyes lit up, but then a calculating look appeared.

“One play and you think you can get away with it? Not enough.” He pulled her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head, a hint of triumph in his voice. “This weekend, you’re coming with me to Cape Cod.”

Amelia’s heart missed a beat. “Cape Cod?”

“Mm,” he answered. “To meet my family.”

A familiar nervousness instantly gripped her. Meeting the family. The phrase itself carried the weight of scrutiny and judgment, making her instinctively want to retreat. She remembered the last time, at the Whitaker estate, those polite yet distant smiles, those afternoon teas where she could never quite fit in.

“Won’t they… think it’s too sudden?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

Julian lowered his head and looked at her, seeing her unease at once. He laughed softly and smoothed the crease between her brows with his fingertip.

“They’ll only be curious about what kind of miracle finally made me willing to leave my sanatorium in Maine,” he said, soothing her. “Don’t worry. They’ll fall in love with you, just like I did.”

Seeing the certainty and tenderness in his eyes, Amelia’s nervousness gradually faded, replaced by a warm anticipation. She nodded.

“All right. Then I… I need to prepare gifts.”

On Saturday afternoon, under a perfect sun, the car drove into a sprawling seaside estate in Cape Cod, where white railings and carefully trimmed hydrangea bushes swayed in the sea breeze. Julian’s parents were sitting in wicker chairs on the terrace, drinking tea. Seeing them approach, the elegant middle-aged woman immediately stood, her face full of undisguised kindness.

“Mom, Dad, this is Amelia.” Julian’s introduction was relaxed and natural.

“Mr. Mercer, Mrs. Mercer, hello.” Amelia offered the gifts she had carefully chosen. “It’s my first visit, so I brought a first edition of Brodsky’s poems that I found in an independent bookstore on Beacon Hill, and a box of local handmade chocolates. I hope you like them.”

“Oh, darling, call me Eleanor.” Julian’s mother, Eleanor, warmly took her hand. “You coming here is the best gift. Julian has mentioned you to us so many times. We’ve been wanting to meet you for ages.”

She enthusiastically led Amelia to a seat, showing none of the airs of a top-tier matriarch. Taking the gifts, she praised, “What a beautiful poetry collection. My husband will love it. Come, sit down and try our homemade blueberry pie.”

The entire afternoon, Amelia was immersed in a family warmth she had never experienced. They talked about the scenery of the Maine coast, about art and literature, and even went to the estate’s sunroom to visit Julian’s elderly but energetic grandparents. The two old people held her hands, looking her over with kindly eyes and repeatedly praising their grandson’s good judgment.

There was no scrutiny here. No judgment. Only sincere acceptance and affection.

When she left, Eleanor gave Amelia a warm hug and whispered in her ear, “Next month, we’re having a small family gathering at our villa on Lake Como. I hope you and Julian can come.”

Amelia’s heart leapt.

She understood the weight of that sentence.

It wasn’t a social invitation.

It was the highest form of recognition. She was no longer an outsider who needed to prove herself. She had already been accepted by this family as one of their own.