His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 16

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 16

The bookstore was warm. The crackle of pine in the fireplace blended with the rhythm of the rain, creating a strange peace. The firelight cast wavering shadows on Julian’s face, lending a faint touch of color to his pale skin.

“It’s raining pretty hard,” he said, withdrawing his hand, his voice still gentle. “If you don’t mind, you can sit by the fire for a while and dry off.”

Amelia hesitated, but the clarity in his eyes and his slightly nervous posture made it difficult to refuse. She nodded and followed him to a seating area deep in the store, where two comfortable leather armchairs faced the fireplace.

After they sat, a charged silence settled over them, mixed with the scent of old books and woodsmoke. Amelia felt an inexplicable panic. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and searched for a topic to break the quiet.

“Are you also a Harvard alum?”

“Mm.” Julian looked at the dancing flames, seeming to drift into memory. “But I took a leave of absence in my sophomore year for health reasons. I never made it back. So every year around this time, I come back to the old house in Maine for a while. You could call it… physical therapy.”

His explanation was vague, and Amelia could sense he didn’t want to elaborate. Seeing her awkwardness, Julian added, “I saw your name in the alumni directory. I knew you joined the Whitaker Foundation after graduation, and later… you got married.” His voice lowered. “After that, I stopped looking.”

The sentence was like a gentle thorn, pricking Amelia’s heart. In an almost reverent way, he was respecting a past that had already ended for her.

They didn’t talk much more. When the rain eased, Amelia rose to leave. Julian walked her to the door and watched her disappear into the rainy night. The moment she was gone, the gentleness on his face vanished.

He turned back to the fireplace, took out his phone, and dialed a number. The call connected almost instantly.

“Look into Amelia Reed,” he said, his voice now calm and sharp, utterly different from before. “Find out why she’s back in Maine alone. Every detail. Now.”

After hanging up, he leaned heavily back into the armchair, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the asthma inhaler. His heart pounded violently in his chest. He was waiting for an answer that might change everything.

In less than ten minutes, an encrypted email arrived on his phone.

The content was brief: Amelia Reed filed for divorce one week ago. At the Whitaker Foundation annual dinner, Griffin Whitaker publicly left with his ex-girlfriend, Daphne Vale, abandoning Amelia in front of the entire room.

Julian stared at the words on the screen. The tension in his body slowly drained away. He exhaled a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She was divorced.

The thought surfaced, clear and bright, and a slow smile spread across his face, beyond his control.

This was, without a doubt, the best news he had received in a very long time.

Back at her inn, Amelia fell into a deep sleep, aided by alcohol and exhaustion. She had a vague dream of being back in college. She was at a café in Cambridge and realized she’d forgotten her wallet, standing awkwardly at the counter. Then a very beautiful hand reached over and handed a Harvard student ID to the cashier. She couldn’t see the boy’s face clearly. She only remembered that hand—clean, long, and finely jointed.

The next morning, Amelia woke to bright sunlight. She instinctively recalled the man named Julian from the bookstore, and the beautiful hand that had offered her the handkerchief.

The dream overlapped with the memory.

Her cheeks warmed uncontrollably.