Chapter 18

After returning from the party, the air around Alexander was suffocatingly heavy. Amelia sensed something was wrong. She grew even more cautious, trying to soothe him with her gentle concern. That night, she entered his room, carrying a cup of warm milk, and found him standing before the window. He had a cigarette in hand, his back rigid and solitary against the glittering cityscape. She approached quietly and spoke in a soft voice. "Alex, you've been working too hard lately. Do you want me to give you a head massage? "Remember when we first met? I almost fell off a ladder trying to rescue a kitten from a tree, and you caught me. That's how we started. After that, I used to give you massages like this, and you said it felt good." She was trying to bring back their early memories, to stir whatever tenderness might still linger. But as she spoke, Alexander's frown deepened. Out of nowhere, a memory surfaced. An old housekeeper from the Hayes family once muttered that Amelia had ne