When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 134

Ethan

My shoulders slumped as the weight of my deception crashed down on me. There was no point denying it now. I sank onto the couch, running my good hand through my hair.

"You already know, don't you? About my real reason for getting close to you," I admitted, my voice strained.

She nodded silently, her eyes filled with hurt that cut deeper than the wound on my hand.

I took a deep breath. "I was an FBI agent assigned to investigate the money laundering operation at Victor's Group. We had intel suggesting your mother was involved."

"My mother would never—" she started, fury flashing in her eyes.

"I knew," I interrupted, holding her gaze. "But at the time, I was just following orders. The timing of our arranged marriage was... convenient for my investigation."

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

"It started that way," I confessed, my voice breaking. "But the more I got to know you, the more I heard you talk about your mother, the more I realized something wasn't adding up. She didn't fit the profile of someone involved in money laundering."

She didn't say anything, which made me nervous.

"My superiors were pressuring me," I continued, needing her to understand the impossible position I'd been in. "They wanted me to fabricate evidence against your mother to close the case. But I couldn't do it. I was searching for the truth—something that would either definitively prove her guilt or clear her name."

"The day you left, I finally found proof that your mother wasn't an accomplice—she was collecting evidence against Victor's Group. She was trying to expose them, Amelia." I softened my voice. "That's why I quit the FBI. I couldn't be part of an organization that would frame an innocent woman."

She stood there, stunned, processing my words. I could see the conflict in her eyes—anger at Ethan's deception battled with an understanding of his impossible position.

"Wait here," I said suddenly, remembering the music box. "There's something I need to show you."

I hurried to my bedroom where I'd kept the repaired music box. This would explain everything better than words ever could. My hand throbbed painfully as I reached for the box on my dresser, but I ignored the pain. This was more important.

---

Amelia

I couldn't stay in that apartment another second. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. Ethan's confession about being FBI, about investigating my mother, but he seems done a lot for me. I needed air, space to think.

Without waiting for him to return, I bolted out the door and down the hallway.

Outside, the evening air hit my face, cooling my flushed cheeks. I walked briskly down the street, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. Anger at Ethan's deception warred with understanding of his impossible position. And beneath it all, a strange sense of relief that my mother's name could finally be cleared.

I reached a crosswalk and waited for the light to change, staring blankly at the traffic rushing by.

"Amelia!" Ethan's voice cut through the city noise. "Amelia, wait!"

I turned to see him standing outside his building, his right arm cradled against his chest. In his left hand, held high above his head, was something that made my heart stop—my mother's music box.

The setting sun caught the gold inlay, making it shine like a beacon. That music box had been broken for years, a silent reminder of my mother. Seeing it now, restored and gleaming, sent a jolt through my entire body.

I hesitated, torn between walking away and going back to him. Just as I took a step toward Ethan, I heard the screech of tires. A car swerved around the corner, heading straight for him as he stepped into the street.

"Ethan!" I screamed, but it was too late.

The impact threw him to the ground. I ran toward him, heart in my throat, pushing past the gathering crowd. Ethan was conscious, grimacing in pain, but what struck me most was the way his left arm was curled protectively around the music box, shielding it from damage.

"You idiot," I sobbed, kneeling beside him. "Why would you run into traffic like that?"

"Had to show you," he gasped, his eyes finding mine. "Had to explain."

The paramedics arrived quickly, loading Ethan onto a stretcher. I climbed into the ambulance with him, clutching the music box he refused to let go of until it was safely in my hands.

---

"Just some minor bruises and scrapes," the ER doctor said after checking Ethan out. "Other than that, he's got a pulled muscle in his left shoulder from the impact. We cleaned up the cuts on his face and redressed the bandage on his hand, which was already hurt and got jostled again during the accident."

I nodded gratefully, relief washing over me. Ethan was lying on the hospital bed, looking far too large for the narrow mattress. His face was scraped on one side, and his previously injured hand had fresh bandages.

"You didn't have to get hit by a car to avoid this conversation," I said once we were alone, attempting humor to mask my concern.

Ethan's laugh turned into a wince. "Not my most strategic move."

A silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken words. Ethan's eyes drifted to the music box I'd placed on the bedside table.

"Open it," he said softly.

With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. Instead of the single ballerina that had once spun there, I found a delicately crafted family of four—a mother, father, and two small children, all holding hands in a circle. And then, something even more miraculous happened. The familiar melody of Swan Lake began to play, filling the quiet hospital room with my mother's favorite song.

"How did you..." I whispered, tears blurring my vision.

"I found a craftsman who specializes in antique music boxes," Ethan explained. "I asked him to replace the dancer with... us. Our family."

My fingers traced the tiny figures, recognizing the likenesses of Lucas and Ella. "This is what you wanted to show me?"

Ethan nodded, wincing as he shifted on the bed. "I know we both entered this marriage with our own agendas. Me with my investigation, you protecting your inheritance. But somewhere along the way, Amelia, it became real for me. I fell in love with you."

I placed the music box gently back on the table, the melody still playing softly. Three years of pain, misunderstandings, and secrets lay between us. Yet here we were, still drawn to each other despite everything.

"I should be furious with you," I said, moving closer to his bedside. "I should walk away and never look back."

"I know," he whispered.

I leaned down, my face inches from his. "But the thought of losing you again terrifies me more than any betrayal."

Gently, I pressed my lips against his, careful to avoid his injured cheek. When I pulled back, I saw in his eyes the same vulnerability I felt in my heart.

"I love you," I whispered, the words falling from my lips as naturally as breathing. "God help me, but I do."

The music box continued its gentle melody, a soundtrack to this new beginning—this fragile, unexpected second chance at the family we both secretly wanted all along.