Chapter 4

Afraid Irina might change her mind and leave, Chad immediately ordered the servants to move her luggage into the largest guest room.

Yara turned to Amelia with a smug sneer. "What are you standing there for? Go make dinner. Oh, and keep it mild—Irina can't handle spicy food."

In this house, even with servants around, it was always Amelia doing the cooking.

Chad was impossibly picky, his standards so high that even Michelin-starred chefs failed to impress him. Somehow, he tolerated Amelia's cooking, though he barely ate more than a few bites. Yara would sometimes join but mostly just complained about the food.

This time, Amelia didn't move. She shook her head lightly and said something that froze everyone in place.

"I can't."

Chad turned to her, frowning. In all the years he'd known her, she had never refused a single thing his family asked. Not once.

Before he could say anything, Irina's eyes filled with tears. She bit her lip and looked down, her voice trembling. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have come here. I'm just an outsider—it's not fair to make Amelia cook for me."

She turned as if to head upstairs, but Chad grabbed her arm.

"This isn't about you," he said, his tone firm.

He turned back to Amelia, his voice colder now. "You said you weren't upset. So, what's this?"

Amelia raised her hand, her fingers wrapped in bandages. Her voice stayed calm. "I'm hurt. I can't touch water for a while."

In reality, her hands were fine. But the contract was over, and she had no intention of wasting her energy on Chad or his family anymore. The bandages were an easy way out.

The room sank into an awkward silence.

Amelia had always handled the chores, so the servants usually left when their shifts ended. Now, with no one to cook, the Feltons were stuck. Even calling the staff back would take too long.

Yara scowled. "If you were hurt, why didn't you say something earlier? Were you planning to let us starve?"

She stepped forward, ready to snap, but Irina gently held her back. "Yara, don't be like that," she said softly.

Irina turned to Chad, her tone soft. "Chad, remember that restaurant by our high school? The one we used to go to after evening classes? How about we eat there tonight?"

Chad's irritation melted away instantly. "Yeah, I'll take you."

As they headed out, they brought Amelia along.

On the drive, Chad kept the conversation lively with Irina and Yara in the backseat.

They dove into stories about their high school days, their laughter filling the car. Irina's smile brightened as the memories poured out, and even Yara joined in, cracking jokes here and there.

In the middle of it all, Irina suddenly turned to Amelia, who sat quietly in the front seat. Flashing a kind smile, she said, "Amelia, sorry about that. We're not ignoring you—it's just... you weren't part of those memories."

'Not just those memories, ' Amelia thought. 'I won't be part of their future, either.'

"Mm," she murmured softly, closing her eyes as she leaned back.

Chad glanced at Amelia, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Something about her felt... different.

When they got to the restaurant, Amelia quietly excused herself to use the restroom.

She splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, wavy hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her pale skin seemed even paler under the harsh lights. But no amount of light could hide the exhaustion etched into her features.

Five years of marriage had left Irina radiant and full of life. For Amelia, it had done the opposite.

"Just a little longer," she told herself. Soon, she'd be free.

When she returned to the private dining room, the others were already ordering.

"The soup should be a clear broth. Irina doesn't eat meat, so add extra vegetables—no cilantro," Chad said, glancing over the menu.

He still remembered Irina's preferences perfectly, even after all these years.

Then, almost like an afterthought, he turned to Amelia. "Amelia, is there anything you don't eat?"

It was the first time he'd ever asked in five years.

Amelia sat calmly across the table, wiping her plate and utensils with a napkin. "Anything's fine, as long as it's not seafood."

Throughout the meal, Chad barely touched his food, his attention fixed on Irina. He kept adding dishes to her plate, making sure she had everything she liked.

Midway through, the peaceful atmosphere shattered as an argument broke out at the next table. Voices escalated into shouts, and then fists started flying.

Nearby patrons tried to step in, but one of the men, clearly losing control, grabbed a steaming bowl of soup and hurled it at his opponent.

The target ducked just in time, and the soup went flying—straight toward Chad's table.

Amid the chaos and panicked screams, Chad acted instantly, pulling Irina into his arms to shield her.

Amelia, caught completely off guard, had no time to react. She could only watch as the scalding soup hurtled toward her.