When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 117

Amelia

I stood in the doorway of the ICU room, my fingers tightening around the bouquet of yellow flowers I'd brought. Frank lay motionless on the hospital bed, tubes and wires connecting him to machines that beeped steadily. His usually alert face was slack, a bandage wrapped around his head where he'd taken the worst impact during the crash.

"His intracranial pressure has stabilized," Dr. Lawson said, coming to stand beside me. "The medically induced coma is helping his brain heal. We're planning to start reducing the sedation in the next forty-eight hours if his numbers continue improving."

I nodded, automatically scanning the monitors. His vitals looked good—blood pressure normal, oxygen saturation excellent. Still, the guilt churned in my stomach. Frank was here because of me, because he'd been protecting my son.

"What about his leg fractures?" I asked, falling back on my professional training to keep my emotions in check.

"Orthopedics did a great job with the surgery. The titanium rods should provide excellent stability. He'll need extensive physical therapy, but with his overall fitness level, I expect a near-complete recovery."

I approached the bed, placing the flowers on the side table. "And cognitive function?"

"The preliminary tests show minimal damage to critical areas. Of course, we won't know for certain until he wakes up."

I gently placed my hand on Frank's forearm, careful not to disturb the IV line. "His family has been notified?"

"Yes, his sister arrived from Boston last night. She just went to get coffee."

After the doctor left, I leaned closer to Frank. "Thank you for protecting Lucas," I whispered, my voice catching. "I'll never forget what you did." A tear slipped down my cheek as I straightened up. "Just focus on getting better, okay? We're all waiting for you."

---

The apartment felt too quiet when I returned. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag on the counter, trying to ignore the heaviness in my chest. The events of the past few days—Mrs. Garcia's funeral, Mrs. Wilson's recovery, Frank's condition—kept replaying in my mind.

My phone rang, Daniel's name flashing on the screen. I took a deep breath before answering.

"Hey, Amelia," my cousin's voice came through, cheerful as always. "How's everything going?"

"Fine," I lied, forcing lightness into my tone. "Just busy with work."

"Good, good. Listen, I wanted to let you know that Uncle Benjamin is bringing the family to New York soon. They want to see how you're settling in."

My stomach dropped. "The whole family? Sophie too?"

"Yeah, everyone's coming. Mom's excited to see you, and Sophie's already planning shopping trips."

I closed my eyes, panic rising in my chest. The last thing I needed was my family walking into this dangerous situation. "That's—that's great," I managed. "I can't wait to see them."

After a few more minutes of small talk, I hung up and stared at the phone. The Astors had no idea about the accident, about Mrs. Garcia's death, about the threat still looming over me and my children. If they came to New York now...

---

Later that evening, I noticed Ethan on the balcony, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. I grabbed my whiskey glass and slid open the door.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked.

He quickly extinguished the cigarette. "Of course not."

The night air was getting chilly, so we went back inside to the living room.

We sit on opposite ends of the sofa. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, just weighted with everything we weren't saying.

"Why did you become an OB-GYN?" Ethan asked suddenly.

The question caught me off guard. In all our time together—our whirlwind courtship, brief marriage, and contentious divorce—he'd never asked me that.

"I was twelve," I said, swirling the drink in my glass. "My mother took me to visit a friend in a rural hospital outside Boston. There was a woman there, screaming in pain. She was in labor, but something was wrong."

I paused, the memory vivid despite the years.

"The hospital was understaffed. No obstetrician on call. The woman's baby was in distress, and no one seemed to know what to do." I took another sip of the amber liquid, feeling its warmth spread through me. "My mother—she stepped in. She wasn't a doctor, but she'd worked as a nurse before I was born. She helped deliver that baby."

Ethan's eyes never left my face.

"I remember the moment they placed that tiny, perfect baby in the mother's arms. The way her face transformed from agony to pure joy." I smiled at the memory. "That's when I knew. I wanted to be part of bringing that kind of joy into the world."

"Your mother sounds remarkable," Ethan said softly.

"She was." The alcohol had loosened my tongue, made me more willing to share these pieces of myself. "After she died, I found her old nursing textbooks. I studied them until the pages fell apart."

Ethan reached for the whiskey bottle, refilling both our glasses. His fingers brushed against mine as he handed back my drink, sending an unexpected jolt through me. Our eyes met, and something shifted in the air between us.

Before I could process what was happening, Ethan leaned forward, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His lips met mine in a kiss that was soft but deliberate. For a heartbeat, I froze in surprise—then, to my own shock, I found myself responding.

The kiss deepened, awakening sensations I'd thought long buried. When we finally broke apart, I could see my own confusion mirrored in his eyes.

"I—I should shower," I stammered, standing up abruptly. "It's been a long day."

I fled to the bathroom, my heart pounding as I locked the door behind me.

---

The cold water hit my skin, shocking my system and clearing my head. What the hell had just happened? One minute we were having a normal conversation, and the next...

I'd kissed Ethan. Worse, I'd enjoyed kissing him.

"Get it together, Amelia," I muttered, turning the water temperature even colder. I needed to think clearly. The situation with my family's visit, Frank's condition, and the ongoing threat to my children were the priorities—not whatever confusing feelings I might have for my ex-husband.

As the water cascaded over me, a plan began to form in my mind. If someone was targeting me, perhaps it was time to stop playing defense. Maybe I needed to draw them out, force them to make a mistake.

I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, my decision made. Picking up my phone from the counter, I scrolled through my contacts until I found a number I hadn't dialed in years but had never forgotten. Margaret's number.

My thumb hovered over the screen. It was risky, but I was tired of living in fear, tired of waiting for the next attack.

If Margaret and my father were behind the accident, maybe it was time to give them exactly what they wanted—a chance to come after me directly.