When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 80

Ethan

Spring in Manhattan always reminded me of things I couldn't have. I stared out the window of my study, watching cherry blossoms float down from the trees in Central Park. Their sweet scent drifted through the cracked window, making me frown. Three fucking years, and I still couldn't look at spring flowers without thinking of her.

I often wondered if I had made the right choice—choosing duty over desire. The weight of responsibility had pinned me down, forcing me to bury the man I once was beneath layers of obligation. I had convinced myself that protecting others was paramount. But every petal that fell outside that window felt like a reminder of the love I sacrificed.

"Sir, I've finished packing your luggage for tomorrow's flight," Parker said, standing at attention by the door like the perfect butler he was. "Will you be needing anything else before departure?"

I kept my eyes fixed on the falling petals, following one particular blossom as it spiraled to the ground.

"Did you happen to see Mrs. Black during your last visit to Boston?" Parker asked, his voice carefully neutral.

The question hit like a punch to the gut. I immediately tensed, whatever hint of a smile had been playing on my lips vanishing instantly. I turned away from the window, my expression deliberately blank.

"That will be all, Parker," I said coldly.

He nodded and quietly backed out of the room. I returned to the window, but the peaceful scene had lost its appeal. Three years of searching, and I was no closer to finding her than when I'd started.

After missing Amelia's flight that day, I immediately handed over the evidence from the music box to my FBI superiors. The microSD card contained enough information to finally bring down Viktor Group's money laundering operation. I resigned from the Bureau shortly after the case closed. They believed I'd simply grown tired of the hidden identity, but the truth was I couldn't focus on anything except finding Amelia.

For three years, I'd used my father's heart condition as an excuse to visit Boston Medical Center regularly. The Astor Family Medical Research Center was only a few blocks away, but their goddamn security system made it impossible to get close. I'd tried investigating the Astor family thirteen times, and each attempt had ended in frustration. The last time I'd managed to get within sight of the main building, I spotted a small child with familiar green eyes playing in the garden. By the time I'd circled around to the entrance, they were gone.

Michael had discovered that the research center had implemented enhanced security measures immediately after new research fellows arrived. It was as if they knew someone might come looking.

I heard my mother's voice in the hallway, talking with Parker.

"He's been out in that garden every morning for weeks," she was saying. "Do you think it's healthy, this sudden interest in horticulture?"

I pretended not to hear them. The gardening was just something to keep my hands busy, to channel the restlessness that threatened to consume me. I continued studying the Boston map spread across my desk, marking potential entry points to the Astor estate.

"Ethan?" My mother appeared in the doorway, elegant as always in her tailored suit. "We didn't see you at dinner."

I didn’t look up. "I wasn’t hungry."

"Go to bed early. Tomorrow, we’ll go back to Boston to see your father for treatment."

"Okay," I replied curtly, not wanting to get into it further.

She lingered for a moment before sighing and turning to leave. I heard her whisper to Parker in the hallway, something about me being lovesick and miserable. I let out a cold laugh. If only it were that simple.

The next day, I sat beside my father in his doctor's office at Boston Medical Center, only half-listening to the cardiologist's update. My attention was fixed on the Astor Research Center visible through the window. I'd noticed something different today—fewer security guards at the perimeter.

"Your father's condition has stabilized nicely," the doctor was saying. "The medication is working well, and his last ECG showed significant improvement."

"Why the reduction in security next door?" I asked casually, nodding toward the Astor building.

The doctor glanced out the window, seeming surprised I'd noticed. "Oh, they adjusted their protocol last night. The Astor family has always been prominent in Boston's medical community. They fund half the research in this hospital."

"Is that so?" I kept my tone disinterested, but my mind was racing with possibilities.

After my father's appointment, I met Michael in the hospital café. He slid into the seat across from me, looking like any other hospital visitor in his casual clothes.

"The new batch of research fellows completed their training and left yesterday," he reported. "Security has been scaled back to standard levels."

I nodded, taking a sip of the bitter hospital coffee. "Anything else?"

Michael hesitated. "The Astor family’s private jet has filed a flight plan from Boston to JFK, and it’s expected to land soon."

My heart rate spiked, coffee cup freezing halfway to my lips. "Who was on it?"

"We're working on that information," Michael said, watching me carefully. "But it's the first time that jet has gone to New York in three years."

"Contact James," I said immediately, setting down my cup with more force than necessary. "Find out if she's back in New York."

Michael nodded, already reaching for his phone. "I'll call him now."

I tried to keep my breathing steady, not wanting to betray the sudden surge of hope I felt. Three years of dead ends and false leads, and now this. It couldn't be a coincidence.

My phone rang ten minutes later. James's voice came through clear and direct: "Your ex-wife just landed in New York."

I stood up so quickly I knocked over my chair, ignoring the startled looks from other patients. For the first time in three years, I felt something besides frustration and regret.

She was back. And this time, I wouldn’t let her slip away—not again.