Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 142

It felt as if she’d been shoved into a cellar lined with icicles, that numbing chill starting at her feet and crawling slowly upward, freezing her entire body until she couldn’t move.

Daniel had always been ruthless and possessive in that regard.

There were times when his “torment” had pushed her past her limits, when she’d begged him to slow down. But he was like a wild animal that never tired, brushing away her tears with gentle fingers, his voice low and cold as he uttered the same words every time: “Endure it.”

Amelia had always understood the nature of their relationship. As for Daniel’s claim that he’d never touched Violet—she only ever treated it as a joke. Men lied as easily as breathing, she thought; to them, sex was a separate thing altogether, and spinning tales came as naturally as opening their mouths.

Knowing was one thing. Hearing it with her own ears was something else entirely.

How obsessed did you have to be, she wondered, that you couldn’t even wait until after dinner to get your fix?

Her stomach fluttered wildly, as if a swarm of butterflies had burst loose inside her, their frantic wings churning her insides until she felt nauseous.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Amelia bolted for the restroom. She hadn’t even touched her food, but her stomach emptied itself anyway.

Back in the private dining room—

Daniel’s patience was wearing thin as he listened to Violet’s grating tone. He frowned. “Talk properly.”

Then, more curtly, “If it hurts, have Mogan help you with the ointment.”

Violet’s phone buzzed in her pocket: a reminder that someone had left.

She looked at the man tending to her burn with that frosty expression, her voice half-teasing, half-accusing: “It’s my leg that’s hurt. If you have another man treat it, won’t you be jealous?”

“The doctor who set your leg was a man too. If you’re going to keep whining all day, you might as well drop dead,” Daniel shot back flatly.

Violet was momentarily speechless.

Daniel tossed the used cotton swab into the bin and straightened up. “When you’re done eating, the driver will take you home.”

Meanwhile, the man whose sexuality was now in question—Mr. Campbell—was already in the car, checking the time before dialing a number.

“What’s the verdict?” He lit a cigarette—he always craved one when he was agitated.

The voice on the other end replied, “The court denied the divorce.”

Daniel’s brooding expression eased, if only a little. He scoffed, “I knew it wouldn’t go through. What a waste of everyone’s time.”

“They may have denied it this round, sir, but your wife hasn’t withdrawn the petition. If you two live apart for two years and she can prove the marriage is broken, the appeal will almost certainly succeed.”

Daniel’s hand paused, and ash tumbled onto his black trousers.

He stubbed out the cigarette, a cold smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll never be separated for two years. She’ll never get that evidence—not in her lifetime.”

Amelia could kick and scream all she wanted, but at least she was doing it right under his nose. That was the only way he could rest easy.