Chapter 4
Amara’s expression suddenly turned unusually serious.
She tightened her grip on Juliet’s hand and whispered desperately,
“If I die on the operating table… delete my browser history.”
Juliet blinked.
Amara continued with complete seriousness.
“And all the photos in my ‘Favorites’ folder too.” She swallowed. “The shirtless men… the abs… those sexy edits. And videos. Delete everything!”
For two seconds, Juliet simply stared at her.
“You’re worried about that right now?” Juliet asked in disbelief.
Amara’s voice dropped even lower.
“You’re my last hope,” she whispered painfully. “I can’t let people unlock my phone and discover the kind of stuff I saved at three in the morning.”
Juliet nodded with full seriousness.
“You can trust me,” she said firmly. “No matter what horrifying things I find in that phone, I’ll erase every single trace.”
Amara pressed her lips together tightly, trying to stop the tears of gratitude gathering in her eyes. Then she gave Juliet a small, thankful nod.
At that moment, the operation room opened.
“Mrs. Creed?”
A doctor stepped outside and walked toward them while flipping through a file.
“Mrs. Creed,” he called professionally. “I need you to sign these papers before we take you inside the operation theater.”
The doctor handed her the papers and pointed toward the signature line.
Amara took the papers quietly, and her eyes fell onto the name written there.
‘Mrs. Amara Creed.’
For a moment, she simply stared at it silently.
Then her fingers slowly tightened around the papers.
She lifted her head calmly.
“I need another copy.”
The doctor paused. “Pardon?”
“Please change the name,” she said softly but firmly. “Change it to Miss Amara Hawk.” Her fingers tightened around the papers. “Not Mrs. Amara Creed.”
Juliet froze beside her.
The doctor stared at her for a brief second before nodding respectfully.
“I’ll have the nurse prepare another set immediately.”
A few minutes later, the corrected papers were brought over.
‘Miss Amara Hawk.’
Amara signed them without hesitation and handed them over calmly.
As the doctor walked away, she lowered her eyes.
Then she whispered quietly,
“I will never call myself Mrs. Amara Creed ever again.”
***
A few days later, Amara sat quietly on the hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around her head. The television across from her played softly with the volume lowered almost to mute.
But even without sound, the headlines were impossible to miss.
Every news channel was covering the same thing. A large red headline was flashing on the screen.
‘Mr. Elias Creed Spotted in Australia With Close Friend Miss Bianca Anderson’
Below the headline was a picture of Elias and Bianca standing outside a hospital together.
Amara stared at the screen without blinking.
Beside her, Juliet sat peeling an apple aggressively with a fruit knife, irritation written all over her face.
“That bitch was always jealous of you,” Juliet muttered angrily while slicing the apple into pieces. “Remember high school? She copied literally everything you did. Your bags. Your shoes. The way you styled your hair. Even the way you talked.”
She shoved the apple plate toward Amara with annoyance.
“And now somehow she enters our social circle with some sugar daddy and suddenly she’s constantly around Elias?”
Juliet scoffed loudly.
“What the hell is going on? This isn’t even the first time they’ve been seen together, so we can’t call it coincidence.”
Amara kept staring at the television quietly.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the blanket covering her legs.
Then, after a long silence, she finally whispered,
“So that’s where he’s been busy all this time.”
It wasn’t until a month later that Amara had fully recovered.
The stitches had healed. The dizziness had finally stopped. She could walk normally again without Juliet hovering anxiously beside her every few seconds.
Little by little, life had returned to silence.
A strange, empty silence.
The mansion no longer felt suffocating the way it once had. Instead, it had become painfully quiet. No arguments. No cold looks. No waiting all night for someone who never came home.
And somehow… she had gotten used to it.
Three months had already passed since Elias had left.
Three months since she had last seen him.
She had even stopped checking her phone for Elias’s response to her messages after the day of the operation.
In the afternoon, soft sunlight poured through the large windows of the living room, casting warm golden light across the floor. Amara stood quietly near the vase on the table, arranging fresh roses one by one.
She wore a simple cream-colored dress, and her long hair was loosely tied behind her back. Her movements were slow and calm as she adjusted the flowers carefully one by one.
The house was silent except for the faint rustling of flowers.
Then suddenly—
Footsteps echoed through the mansion.
Her fingers stiffened around the rose stem as her heartbeat skipped violently.
Startled, her grip slipped, and one sharp thorn pierced deeply into her fingertip.
“Hss—”
She flinched sharply and jerked her hand back instinctively. A small bead of blood appeared at the tip of her finger just as a tall figure stepped into the living room.
“Elias?”
Amara’s entire body unconsciously stiffened at the sight of him.
Three months.
It had been three whole months since she last saw him.
He was dressed in a black suit like he had just stepped out of a business meeting, his coat hanging over one arm while the other hand loosened his tie slightly as he walked inside.
Amara lowered her injured finger calmly.
“You’ve returned?”
Elias stared at her quietly. A faint frown slowly appeared between his brows at her indifferent and blank expression. His eyes swept across the flowers, the vase, and the scattered petals on the table.
“Why are you doing these things yourself?” he asked coldly.
He walked further into the living room while removing his watch casually. His tone remained flat and emotionless.
“Leave this work to the servants. I need a capable and happy wife, not a maid, Amara.”
Amara’s fingers slowly tightened around the rose stem. Another thorn dug into her skin, but this time she didn’t react at all.
Her expression barely changed, yet something in her eyes quietly cooled as she looked at him steadily.
“Are you ashamed that I’m a housewife?” she asked softly.
Elias narrowed his eyes slightly before sliding one hand into his pocket.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
His voice remained calm, but irritation was already creeping into his expression.
Amara held his gaze for another second before silently turning around.
She picked up the vase full of roses.
And without hesitation—
dumped every single flower into the trash bin beside the table.
The flowers fell inside with a soft rustling sound.
Elias visibly paused.
His fingers twitched slightly around the glass table beside him. For the first time since entering the house, surprise flashed across his face. The atmosphere instantly became strange.
Amara stood there quietly beside the trash bin, staring at the flowers she had carefully arranged only moments ago.
Something about her felt different now.
Cold.
Distant.
An unfamiliar uneasiness settled inside his chest, but he ignored it.
Amara calmly walked toward the dining table as if nothing had happened. She picked up a glass and poured water into it from a bottle.
Then she walked back toward him. When she stopped in front of him, she extended the glass toward him naturally.
Elias accepted it from her hand without thinking.
Their fingers brushed lightly for half a second before she stepped back again.
Amara rested one hand lightly against the back of a nearby chair and finally looked at him.
“Before you left, you told me that you weren’t going to take my words seriously.”
Elias’s brows slowly pulled together.
“And you told me to think more carefully about divorcing you.”
The grip around the glass in his hand tightened visibly.
Amara paid no attention to the change in his expression.
“For the past three months, that’s the only thing I’ve thought about.”
Her voice remained soft.
Steady.
And terrifyingly emotionless.
“I want a divorce.”
The air instantly froze.
Elias’s expression darkened. His jaw tightened sharply, and the veins on his hand became visible from how tightly he was gripping the glass.
It almost looked ready to crack in his hand.
“You’ve become spoiled and stubborn. Do you really think these threats work on me?”
But Amara looked completely unaffected by his words.
She simply continued in the same soft voice.
“After my grandfather’s funeral tomorrow,” she continued calmly, “we’ll go to the divorce office together.”
She looked directly into his eyes.
“We can finalize everything tomorrow and end this properly.”
For the first time since entering the mansion, Elias went completely still.
The atmosphere around him became terrifying.
His jaw tightened hard, and his entire body turned rigid with tension. Something dark flashed through his eyes so quickly it almost looked dangerous.
He stared at her silently for several long seconds.
Almost like he couldn’t process what he was hearing. But Amara’s expression never changed. And somehow, that calmness angered him even more.
Finally, he spoke through clenched teeth.
He slowly took one step toward her.
“Since you want a divorce so badly…”
His eyes locked onto hers coldly.
“I’ll have my secretary send the divorce papers to you.”
As he said those words, Elias strode toward her.
His movements were fast and sharp.
Before Amara could react, he grabbed her wrist firmly.
The warmth of his palm wrapped around her skin roughly as he thrust the glass of water back into her hand with obvious anger.
Water immediately splashed out from the glass, spilling over her fingers and dripping onto the marble floor.
The cold water scattered across the ground between them. But neither of them looked down at it.