I stared at the door for a long moment, swallowing the lump in my throat. For now, even this would have to do. As long as my father was alive, I could start over.
The room was cramped and cluttered, filled with discarded items. My belongings were tossed carelessly into a corner, covered in a thick layer of dust, as though they too had been forgotten.
Determined, I grabbed a basin and set out to clean. As I passed by the study, faint voices drifted through the slightly ajar door.
"Amelia is back now. If you don’t divorce her soon, are you planning to let Irene stay by your side without a name or status?" Mrs. Bolton’s sharp voice carried from the study, cold and calculating.
After a pause, Gilbert’s voice followed, steady and indifferent. “She still has her father’s shares in the group. They account for a significant proportion. Divorcing her now would jeopardize my position.”
“Fine,” Mrs. Bolton replied, her tone softening with calculation. “Wait until you secure the shares, then divorce her. But when are you planning to tell her about her father’s death?”
Father’s death.
The words felt like a punch to the chest, leaving me breathless. My legs weakened, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. My mind struggled to process what I had just heard.
Irene’s voice jolted me back to reality. She stood behind me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Amelia, is something the matter? Why don’t you go inside?”
I turned to face her, my body trembling. It took every ounce of strength to steady my voice. “When... when did my father die?”
The walls seemed to close in around me, and my heart felt as though it was being crushed.
“Oh,” Irene said lightly, as if she were discussing the weather. “Your father passed away about a week after you went to jail.”
The ground beneath me seemed to shift. My vision blurred with tears, but I forced myself to stay upright.
Gilbert stepped out of the study then, his expression shifting the moment he saw me. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as he noticed the storm brewing in my eyes.
I stumbled forward and grabbed his arm, clutching it tightly as if it could anchor me. “You promised,” I choked out, my voice trembling with anguish. “You said that if I went to jail for her, you would take care of my father. You swore it to me!”
My voice rose, raw and desperate, as tears spilled down my cheeks. “How could he die? How could you let this happen?”