When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 22

Amelia

I gently pushed open my grandfather's bedroom door after finishing a cigarette—something I had quit long ago.

"Grandpa?" I whispered, approaching his bed. "It's me."

He lay propped against pillows, his once-imposing frame now diminished, skin stretched too tightly over prominent bones.

"Amelia," he reached for my hand, his grip surprisingly strong. "You came back."

I sat beside him, letting his papery fingers wrap around mine. "Of course I did."

"If Ethan ever does anything that puts you in danger, go to George. Promise me," he said, his breathing labored.

"Shh, save your strength," I said, my doctor mode automatically engaging despite the panic fluttering in my chest. I checked his pulse—too rapid, too weak.

"George will protect you like I would," he continued, ignoring my question.

I nodded, more to comfort him than anything else. Now wasn't the time to argue about a marriage that would be over soon anyway.

His face relaxed slightly at my agreement. "You were always such a good girl. Just like your mother."

A faint smile crossed his lips. "She was brave. Too brave."

"What do you mean? Grandpa, I don't understand—"

His grip on my hand suddenly loosened. I looked up from our entwined fingers to his face and saw his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, the slight rise and fall of his chest now terrifyingly still.

"Grandpa?" My voice cracked. "Grandpa!"

I pressed my fingers to his neck, searching desperately for a pulse I knew wasn't there. My training screamed at me to start CPR, to call a code, to do something, but the daughter in me already knew. He was gone.

"No, no, no," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "Please, not yet."

I laid my head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat that had stopped forever, feeling the lingering warmth of a body that no longer contained the person I loved. My entire body shook with silent sobs as I clutched his hand to my chest.

"What am I supposed to do without you?" I whispered against his knuckles, the cold reality of being truly alone washing over me like an icy wave.

I sat there crying for a while before the doctor in me took over. I gathered towels and his favorite shaving kit, gently washed his face, and trimmed his beard. I dressed him in his military uniform with his medals, making sure he looked proud and dignified. I kissed his forehead softly, whispered goodbye, and told him I loved him.

---

Standing at the top of the stairs, I called for Mrs. Jenkins. My voice sounded strange to my own ears—too steady, too controlled. Shock, probably. The clinical part of my brain was still functioning, cataloging my own symptoms with detached interest.

She appeared at the bottom of the staircase, looking up expectantly. One glance at my face told her everything.

"He's gone," I said simply.

Her hand flew to her mouth, but she quickly composed herself. She'd been with our family for decades; she knew what needed to be done.

"Should I call your father?" she asked quietly.

"Let's give Grandpa one peaceful night. Please make the necessary arrangements for... for after." I couldn't bring myself to say the word 'funeral.'

Mrs. Jenkins nodded solemnly. "I'll take care of everything, Miss Amelia."

The quiet house transformed into a hub of somber activity. Professional funeral directors arrived, speaking in hushed tones as they prepared the formal parlor. Black crepe appeared on mirrors, candles were lit, and the traditional Thompson family silver candlesticks were placed around my grandfather's body, now arranged in the main sitting room.

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Jenkins showed in a tall, distinguished figure. I recognized immediately George.

He wore an impeccable black suit, his silver hair perfectly combed, but his eyes were red-rimmed. Without a word, he walked to me and took my hands in his.

"My dear girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so sorry."

Something about his genuine grief broke through my numbness. Fresh tears welled in my eyes as he pulled me into a gentle embrace.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," I managed to say when we separated.

George nodded, then moved to stand beside William's body. He placed a hand on my grandfather's shoulder and bowed his head. I saw a tear slip down his cheek.

"We've known each other seventy years," he said quietly. "I always thought he would outlast me." He turned back to me with a sad smile. "He was so proud of you, Amelia. So very proud."

"Child, you've been through enough today," George said gently before leaving. "Try to rest if you can. I'll call Ethan to come over."

---

I must have dozed off in the armchair beside Grandfather's body because I awoke to the sound of the doorbell. Dawn was breaking outside the windows, pale light filtering through the heavy drapes. It had rained all night; I could hear water dripping from the eaves.

Mrs. Jenkins ushered in Olivia, who rushed straight to me, enveloping me in a tight hug that smelled of her signature perfume and the fresh rain outside.

"Oh, Amy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

Behind her stood Mrs. Bennett, Olivia's mother, her expression solemn and kind. She stepped forward to embrace me as well.

"Don't grieve too deeply, dear," she said softly. "For William, this may be a release from suffering."

I nodded mechanically, accepting their condolences with practiced grace. How many times would I repeat this ritual in the coming days? How many well-meaning platitudes would I have to endure?

Mrs. Bennett didn't stay long, understanding that Olivia and I needed time alone. As she left, she squeezed my hand.

"He was a good man, Amelia. One of the best."

When she was gone, Olivia kicked off her designer heels and curled up beside me on the window seat, just as we had done as teenagers.

"I canceled my appearances these days," she informed me, brushing hair from my face with gentle fingers.

"You didn't have to—"

"Shut up," she interrupted firmly. "I'm your person, remember? This is what I do." She looked around at the formal mourning setup.

I almost smiled at her bluntness. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit. You're a doctor—you should know better." She stood up, determination in her eyes. "I'm making you eat something, and then you're going to shower while I handle things down here."

I started to protest, but the front door burst open with a crash that made both of us jump.

Robert stormed into the room, his expensive suit immaculate despite the early hour, his face contorted with rage.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he snarled at me, ignoring Olivia completely. "My father dies and you don't even have the decency to call me?"