When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 38

Emily

I couldn’t peel my eyes off the sickening scene playing out right in front of me. George Black, the big shot head of one of Manhattan’s heaviest-hitting families, was practically drooling over Amelia like she was some kind of royalty straight out of a fairy tale.

My grip tightened on the fancy silver fork until my knuckles turned white. Catherine’s little interrogation from earlier was still eating at me, making me feel like a total idiot in front of the whole table.

I’d been forced to spill that Amelia and I were step-sisters, something I’d gone out of my way to keep from Felix. Not that he gave a crap anymore. Since Amelia showed up, his eyes kept sliding over to her, checking her out with way too much interest.

“Felix, pass the salt, will ya?” David's voice cut through my thoughts. Felix complied wordlessly, tension still lingering between father and son after yesterday's confrontation.

"Now that Ethan has settled down," George continued, shooting a meaningful glance at his grandson, "perhaps you should consider your future as well, Felix."

My heart did a little flip. I squeezed Felix’s hand under the table, praying he’d say something—anything—about us. About last night. About how I’d given him everything.

Felix just shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve got plenty of time, grandpa. No rush on that stuff.”

But as he held my hand, he subconsciously tightened his grip, as if silently apologizing.

Catherine nodded like she was backing him up. “These things shouldn’t be forced. The Black family’s always held to a high standard, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”

The message was loud and clear—I wasn’t good enough. Not for their golden boy Felix. Not for the precious Black legacy.

My face burned as I poked at the lobster on my plate. A $300 dish that tasted like cardboard now. All I could swallow was the bitter sting of being shut out.

When dinner finally wrapped up, Catherine “volunteered” me to help Amelia in the kitchen with dessert, like I was some kind of maid. Of course, perfect little Amelia agreed without batting an eye.

The second the kitchen door swung shut behind us, I made sure we were alone. The catering staff had stepped out for a smoke or something—perfect timing.

“Amelia,” I started, forcing my tone to sound chill, “Dad’s birthday party got pushed to next month because of William passing. He’s planning to host it at the Brooklyn brownstone.” I watched her face, loving the quick flicker of shock in her eyes. “He wanted me to let you know to come.”

Her mask slipped right then and there. She grabbed my wrist so hard I felt her nails dig in.

“What makes you think you’ve got any right to step foot in that house?” she hissed, her green eyes practically on fire. “William made it crystal clear when he was alive that you weren’t welcome. You think him being gone changes a damn thing?”

I tried yanking my arm back, but her grip was like a vise. “You’re hurting me! Let go!”

“Listen up,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “That house is mine now. Everything in it belongs to me. If you or anyone else tries to set foot on that property, I’ll have security toss you out like the trash you are.”

She shoved my wrist away so hard I stumbled back, my spine slamming into the counter. Pain shot through me as I gasped, “You’re freaking crazy!”

She shot back, cold as ice, walking over to the sink to wash her hands like touching me had grossed her out.

I rubbed my wrist, red marks blooming where her fingers had been. “At least I’ve got a dad who loves me,” I snapped. “Unlike you, living with grandpa because no one wanted your ass.”

Amelia turned slowly, her face creepy-calm. “Is that what he told you? That no one wanted me?” She let out a hollow laugh that made my skin crawl. “I chose to live with William. I refused to stay with Robert and your mom.”

She turned her back on me like I wasn’t even worth looking at, grabbing dessert plates from the cupboard. “Oh, and if you ever try to humiliate me in front of the Blacks again, I’ll make sure Felix finds out exactly who you really are.”

“You’re full of it,” I whispered, but my voice shook, giving me away.

“Am I?” She raised an eyebrow, slicing cheesecake with creepy precision. “Wonder what Felix would think if he knew you’re with him for money?”

I lunged at her, tears stinging my eyes. “You bitch!”

Amelia dodged me like it was nothing, and I crashed into the counter again. “Don’t forget who you’re messing with, Emily.”

Back in the dining room, I could barely hold it together. My hands were shaking as I passed out the plates, dodging Felix’s curious looks. The rest of the night was a blur of embarrassment and pure rage.

Later that night, back in my apartment, I kicked off my shoes with such force that one cracked the wall mirror. My mother would kill me for that, but I didn't care.

I stormed into the living room where my mother was applying her nightly skincare routine, her face covered in an expensive serum that glistened under the crystal chandelier lights.

"Mom," I said abruptly, "we can't let anyone know I'm not Robert Thompson's biological daughter."

The Chanel perfume bottle she'd been holding crashed to the marble floor, shattering into pieces. The scent immediately filled the room.

"Who said you're not Robert's biological daughter?" Her voice trembled, eyes wide with shock.

I quickly backpedaled, realizing my mistake. "I meant, we can't let people think I'm not good enough for the Black family. This is about our future, Mom."

My mother stared at me, her hands slightly shaking.

Back in my bedroom, I flopped onto my bed, my head spinning. Amelia Thompson had to go down. She’d taken everything—the Thompson name, William’s love, the Brooklyn house, and now she was worming her way into the Black family too.

I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I landed on the name I needed. Ashley Randal. Ethan’s ex. I’d met her at a charity gala abroad last summer, and she’d sounded so bitter when Ethan’s name came up, it stuck with me.

“Time to shake things up,” I muttered, typing out a text: [Hey Ashley, did you hear Ethan Black got married? ]

I hit send, a smirk tugging at my lips. If I couldn’t get what I wanted, neither would Amelia.