Chương 13: Captain Pantaloons

Richard's towering figure loomed over Amelie's slight frame, casting a cold shadow on everything around her. His icy tone and menacing glare conveyed a chilling realization to Amelie. Unfazed, she narrowed her eyes and asked just as coldly, "So is it true, then?"

For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, Richard remained silent. His silence, however, spoke volumes. Amelie felt as if he could incinerate her with his smoldering dark eyes.

Finally, he slowly parted his lips, still contemplating the right response, and said in a voice almost a whisper, "That is none of your business."

Amelie wanted to smile but restrained herself. It wasn't a smile of victory; though she knew she had struck a nerve, she felt a similar pain. Emily's words echoed in her mind as she recalled the day her husband had returned from his business trip.

'Does this mean Richard has been visiting hostess bars all these years too?'

This single thought made her shiver in disgust. Suddenly, the image of her husband—her childhood friend and trusted companion—began to distort. The man standing before her now seemed like a complete stranger.

Richard's next words jolted her back to reality.

"I don't know how or what you have managed to find out, but this is personal. Such details should never leave the relationship because they can harm more than just the people involved. I suggest you stop getting involved in gossip, Amelie. You've always struck me as someone above that. Unlike your idle friends."

Amelie clenched her fists in frustration, her nails digging into the soft skin of her palms. Richard always knew how to manipulate her into thinking she was at fault, but she had never let it get to her before. Now, however, this was too much.

"The news has already reached the public media, Richard. It wasn't just internal gossip. Your pictures are in the hands of reporters. You should thank me that my 'idle' friends managed to stop them from being plastered all over the internet."

She wanted to end it there, but she was too hurt to stop.

"It wasn't me. Many men in our circle visit such establishments. Your friends do too. Perhaps someone recognized her."

Richard's lips curled into an annoyed grin, but it was clear he was nervous. Their conversation had devolved into a mutual attempt to sting each other. He sighed.

"No matter how jealous you are, you should know your limits."

His words made Amelie finally realize something important—she wasn't jealous. But that didn't mean she wasn't hurt.

Imitating his grin, she replied, "I would have been jealous if I were in love with you, Richard. Fortunately, that's not the case."

Trying to compose herself, she adjusted her hair and clothes before adding, "I suggest you handle the rumors yourself. Don't drag me into this anymore. This time, it's your reputation that's on the line."

Amelie could no longer bear to look at her husband's face. She was grateful that her remark left him speechless and took it as the perfect moment to leave.

She started walking without even knowing where she was going; the tears welling in her eyes blurred her vision. She hadn't cried in years—she simply had no reason to. But now, she couldn't control it.

Fearing that someone might witness her broken state, Amelie rushed into her bedroom and locked the door. Once inside her safe space, her legs gave way, and she slid down to the floor, covering her hot face with both hands.

She couldn't understand why she was so hurt. Perhaps she was jealous. Perhaps she loved Richard after all. Or maybe she was simply scared. Everything was changing so rapidly, and she couldn't keep up.

Suddenly, she felt a short vibration from inside the pocket of her jacket. Amelie reached in and realized she had been carrying that old mobile phone with her all this time.

Wiping her eyes with her free hand, she noticed a little blue envelope icon on the small screen, indicating an unread text message.

At first, she wasn't sure what to do. She had agreed to keep the phone safe, but that didn't mean she had the right to go through its messages or calls. However, her curiosity got the better of her, and she pressed the button to open the message.

To her surprise, the text was addressed to her.

"Thank you for agreeing to keep this phone. As I thought, you are the kindest woman in the world.

By the way, since you accepted the flowers, I assume you like them. I will try to send you flowers as often as I can, both as a token of my appreciation and because I feel they might cheer you up and make your day a little better.

Thank you again,

Your clumsy neighbor who still insists he's not a drinker."

Amelie couldn't stop herself from releasing a light chuckle. She still found the situation with the phone a bit strange. Even though the number that sent the message was private, the person behind it was a guest at her hotel, so she could easily discover his identity. At the same time, she had to admit that letting him remain anonymous added a touch of thrill and mystery to the situation.

It was something new and fascinating. The clichéd romantic comedy was beginning to seem rather entertaining now.

Still smiling, Amelie decided to reply and see where it would take her.

"I will keep the phone safe for now, but the flowers are not really necessary. If you want to express your gratitude, perhaps you could just tell me your name or the name you would like me to call you."

The response didn't take long. When Amelie opened the message, she burst into uncontrollable laughter—something she hadn't done in years too.

"You can call me Captain Pantaloons."

Her laughter echoed in the room, filling the space with a joy she had almost forgotten.

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Chương 14: Old and Shabby

Austin Hall turned away from the tall pile of documents, interrupted by the silly giggling coming from his boss. Liam was looking at his phone and smiling like an idiot—a smile Austin had never seen before. He couldn't tell whether it was a good sign or not.

Curious, Austin stood behind Liam and looked over his shoulder to see what was so amusing. Young Mr. Bennet immediately locked his phone screen, shielding it from his overly curious assistant.

"Stop spying, Austin! This is not what you're paid for."

"That's where you're very wrong, Mr. Bennet."

Austin offered his boss a wide grin and added, "Your grandfather hired me specifically for that—to spy on you. Well, and to make sure you're doing your job and not slacking off like you always do."

Liam couldn't help but sigh.

"You're supposed to be my assistant first, and only then my grandpa's spy."

Austin shook his head and clicked his tongue, clearly disagreeing with his boss's words. He then placed a stack of documents in front of Liam and handed him a shiny black pen.

"If you want me to act as your assistant, then you have to start acting as my employer. Come on now, we have a lot of paperwork to go over before we can take a break. I, for one, would like to have lunch before dinnertime."

Liam groaned miserably in an overly dramatic manner, then finally grabbed the pen and nodded.

"Alright, bring it on. You're no better than my grandpa!"

***

Once Amelie managed to calm herself down and fix her appearance, she contemplated whether it was wise to go to the JFC HQ office instead of working from her hotel suite.

However, a slight nervous trembling shook her from within when she looked at her schedule. Today was simply not her day. Unwilling to risk performing her duties poorly, Amelie delegated most of her work to her executive assistants and decided to take the day off instead.

Slipping into more casual clothes, she put a book into her bag and opted to spend the afternoon in her favorite coffee shop.

The book café she liked to visit was old and usually half-empty at this time of day.

Amelie appreciated it for its unique atmosphere, calming music, and peculiar design. The numerous bookshelves were stacked with books in different languages that patrons could borrow to read inside or even take home. Amelie had been reading the books from this café ever since she was in high school.

The food and drinks served there were prepared by the family that owned the establishment. Their dessert recipes were top secret, passed down from generation to generation, and were memorable due to the homely taste they had.

But the thing Amelie loved most about the place was the little cozy garden adjacent to the café. As a loyal customer for so many years, Amelie was well-known by every worker in the coffee shop and even had her own designated armchair placed in the garden under the broad branches of the dogwood tree.

Amelie walked through the carefully tended stone pathway of the little garden, pressing her book tightly to her chest. She couldn't wait to find comfort in the soft embrace of the armchair, surrounded by the pleasant scent of blooming flowers lingering in the air.

To her dismay, however, it seemed comfort was out of the question that day.

The moment she saw her favorite armchair, she froze, recognizing the person sitting in her spot.

It was Samantha.

The woman, too, noticed Amelie and instantly jumped to her feet, offering a cheerful greeting. "Ame––I mean, Mrs. Ashford! Good afternoon! What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you visited old and shabby places like this one."

'Old and shabby?'

Amelie looked at the armchair that Samantha had just occupied and frowned.

'As if it wasn't enough to make me feel uncomfortable in my own home, now she's starting to invade my favorite places?'

Annoyed, Amelie threw her book onto the wooden coffee table next to the armchair and said in a cold voice, "I'm sorry, Miss Blackwood, but this is my favorite spot, and the owner of this café knows that I favor it. There are plenty of nice places here. I suggest you pick another chair, especially since I don't see you ordering anything."

Samantha looked startled. Amelie's piercing gaze made her immediately step away from the armchair, and Mrs. Ashford took her seat as if it were her throne. Paying no more attention to the woman, Amelie opened her book and fixed her eyes on its pages.

Samantha, however, didn't plan on leaving just yet. Her hovering finally got to Amelie, who sighed and asked, "Is there something you wish to say to me, Miss Blackwood?"

Samantha pulled a chair next to Amelie's and took a seat, her voice as chipper as always.

"Isn't it nice how we keep running into each other all the time? It means we must like the same things and places! I feel really excited about this."

Amelie raised an eyebrow; the woman's words made no sense to her.

'Could she really be this delusional? I have been coming to this coffee shop for years and have never seen her even once. The same goes for the rest of my favorite places. And she just called this café shabby—is that really something you say about your favorite place?'

Amelie wasn't in the mood for confrontation, so she kept her thoughts to herself. Samantha disturbed the lingering silence with yet another strange remark, "I think this is good. I see it as grounds for becoming friends."

Mrs. Ashford couldn't suppress a bitter scoff.

"Friends? I have enough friends, Miss Blackwood. Regardless of the circumstances, wives can never be friends with mistresses. Perhaps you should look for someone on your own level."

Samantha's face grew darker, her demeanor shifting into something new and unfamiliar. For a moment, Amelie wondered if the fake mask would finally come down. To her disappointment, Samantha's expression quickly turned to one of sadness and hurt.

She rose to her feet and said quietly, "Well... I'm sorry... I better be going then."

Samantha gestured for her assistant to follow her, then turned and walked away. Amelie watched her leave and, when she was finally gone, leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh.

"I'm tired of this."

She opened her eyes and looked around the tranquil garden, trying to recapture the sense of calm it usually brought her. The vibrant flowers, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the distant hum of conversation inside the café all seemed to blend together, creating a soothing ambiance.

Taking a deep breath, Amelie decided to let go of the tension. She picked up her book again, determined to immerse herself in its pages. The words slowly drew her in, helping her to forget the unpleasant encounter.

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