As Amelia turned away with the elegance of a queen who had already won the war, the twins followed, their tiny hands tucked into their pockets like miniature versions of the man now kneeling behind them—except with twice the attitude and zero remorse.
"Did you see that, Aiden?" Aaron whispered loud enough for the microphones to pick up. "Daddy's finally learning how to kneel properly!"
Aiden smirked, eyes gleaming like little devils. "Next time, we should bring a cushion. Poor old man might hurt his knees."
The entire hall exploded into shocked gasps and barely restrained laughter.
Up on the stage, Ethan's face turned ashen. His chest tightened painfully, the humiliation and regret boiling in his blood.
BANG!
He collapsed to his knees with a violent cough. A dark stain bloomed on the pristine white cuff of his sleeve—blood.
"Mr. Blake!" His assistant, terrified, rushed over.
But Ethan's eyes never left the back of Amelia's figure as she walked away without a second glance.
His vision blurred, but even through the haze, her cold and unbothered silhouette was the sharpest image in his mind.
"Amelia… don't leave me again… Please…"
He couldn't breathe. His world spun.
Meanwhile, outside the grand venue, Amelia stood at the top of the marble stairs, feeling the cold night breeze against her skin.
Aaron tugged at her sleeve. "Mommy, Daddy coughed up blood. Should we—"
Amelia's expression didn't even flicker.
"If he can cough, he can breathe. If he can breathe, he can regret. That's good enough for tonight."
She bent down to kiss her boys' foreheads. "But if he doesn't suffer enough, he'll never learn, my loves."
Aiden smirked. "Don't worry, Mommy. I have his medical records. Should we accidentally leak them online tomorrow?"
Amelia straightened up, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"Not yet," she said softly. "Let him drown in regret a little longer."