After the Breakup, the CEO Begs for Forgiveness Daily

Chapter 3 Chapter Three

　　Everyone in the private room had their eyes on Amelia.

　　Simon looked up, his eyes dark and unreadable.

　　"Amelia," he said slowly, his voice low and tight like he was holding something back, "say that again?"

　　Amelia felt her heart pounding against her ribs, like it was trying to break free. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I said, if Mr. Marchand's conditions are good enough, I might consider dating him."

　　Simon suddenly let out a cold laugh, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "Only met him once and you're already ready to throw yourself at him? That desperate, huh?"

　　"Mr. Johnson," Anselme stepped forward, positioning himself protectively in front of Amelia, "please watch your tone. I'm serious about her."

　　Simon's eyes flicked past Anselme, landing back on Amelia. "I'll ask you one more time, Amelia. Are you sure about this?"

　　Time felt like it froze in that moment. Amelia caught a flicker of something complicated in Simon's eyes. For a second—just a second—she thought he might stop her, admit he cared, give her even the tiniest reason to stay.

　　But then, his next words snapped her right back to reality.

　　The man in front of her didn't love her—never had, and definitely wouldn't care about the life growing inside her.

　　Amelia instinctively placed her hand on her lower abdomen. "I've thought it through."

　　Her tone was steady. "Didn't you always say I should make my own choices, Mr. Johnson? Well, this is mine."

　　Simon's face darkened instantly. "Fine. Then leave. Starting now, you're no longer part of the Johnson Group."

　　He turned around and walked back to the sofa. Without missing a beat, Isabella Murphy slid right over to him, this time practically curling up in his lap.

　　"Mr. Johnson..." she purred softly.

　　He didn't push her away. Instead, he casually wrapped an arm around her waist and grabbed a glass of liquor with his other hand, downing it in one go.

　　"Amelia, let's go," Anselme said gently, his hand resting lightly on her arm.

　　Amelia gave a small nod. Before leaving, she took one last glance at Simon.

　　He was leaning in, saying something to Isabella. In the dim lighting, his profile looked extra cold and unreadable. Isabella was laughing flirtatiously, drawing lazy circles on his chest with one finger.

　　Amelia turned away without hesitation and walked out of the room.

　　The door clicked shut behind her, and just as it did, the sound of shattering glass echoed from inside. Still, she didn't look back.

　　Anselme was in the hallway with her, eyes full of concern. "Are you okay? You look really pale."

　　"I'm fine," Amelia forced a smile. "Just a bit tired. About the partnership..."

　　"We can talk about that later," Anselme gently interrupted, his tone soft. "Let me take you home first."

　　"No need," Amelia shook her head. "I can manage."

　　"At least let me walk you to the entrance," he insisted. "This place is kind of out of the way—it's not easy to catch a ride."

　　Amelia didn't argue further. They walked side by side down the long corridor in silence. Not a word was exchanged until they stepped outside. The night breeze greeted them with a chilly gust, and Amelia took a deep breath.

　　"Mr. Marchand," she stopped and turned to face him, "I'm sorry."

　　Anselme looked surprised. "What for?"

　　"I used you back there," she admitted, voice steady. "When I said I'd think about your feelings... it was just an excuse to walk away. I'm not ready for anything new right now."

　　Anselme paused for a moment, then smiled. "I figured."

　　This time, it was Amelia who was caught off guard. "You knew?"

　　"A woman's eyes can't lie," Anselme replied gently. "The way you look at Simon, and the way he looks at you—that's not just some typical boss-employee thing."

　　Her heart skipped a beat.

　　"But it's alright," he went on, his tone calm. "I'm not joking about chasing you, even if you're not ready now. Eclat's doors will always be open for you."

　　Amelia felt her eyes sting. Three years by Simon's side, and all she ever got were orders and warnings.

　　And now, someone who barely knew her was offering respect, understanding—an actual chance.

　　"Thank you," she said sincerely, "I'll think about it seriously."

　　"Let me take you home," Anselme offered again. "It's late. It's not safe for you to go alone."

　　After a pause, she nodded.

　　She really needed time to figure out her next move. First thing was, the place she was staying in—it was Simon who rented that apartment for her.

　　Back in the private room, the air had turned freezing cold.

　　Simon poured himself another drink, tilted his head back, and downed it in one go.

　　There were already three empty bottles on the table in front of him, but his eyes were unsettlingly clear.

　　Isabella Murphy tried to scoot closer again, only to get shoved aside hard. "Get lost."

　　Those two words, so cold, sent a chill through everyone in the room. Isabella's face went pale as she cast a wronged look over at Raymond.

　　Raymond sighed, then waved his hand. "Okay, give us the room." Soon, only the two brothers were left in the box.

　　"Hey, Simon," Raymond sat across from Simon, dropping his usual playful attitude, "You okay?"

　　Simon didn't respond. He just poured himself another drink.

　　"Did I take things too far?" Raymond sounded a bit uneasy. "I really didn't think Amelia would..."

　　"Whatever she does has nothing to do with me," Simon cut him off, his tone sharp.

　　Raymond raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? Then who was the guy just now who looked about ready to tear Anselme apart?"

　　Simon froze for a second, the glass paused at his lips.

　　"Simon, if you really care about her, you can still catch up. Anselme's car left maybe ten minutes ago," Raymond said earnestly.

　　"Care?" Simon let out a bitter laugh. "What's the point of caring about a woman you can buy with money?"

　　"You'd keep a woman you bought around for three years?" Raymond asked, raising a brow. "Check into some guy just 'cause she had dinner with him? Watch surveillance tapes to see who talked to her when she came out of the lounge? Seriously?"

　　Simon's eyes darkened instantly. "Were you spying on me?"

　　"I was worried about you," Raymond shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "But come on, bro. Don't you think your attitude toward Amelia is kinda... all over the place? You keep saying it's just transactional, yet you guard her like gold. No one's allowed to get near her."

　　"Because she's mine," Simon said low and flat. "Until I decide I've had enough, no one else touches her."

　　"And what about now? Are you done with her?"

　　Simon didn't answer. He just stared at the glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquor inside.

　　Was he tired of her? That question had been running laps in his head lately.

　　Three years ago, he picked Amelia because she was clean, didn't have a greedy bone in her body, looked good, and didn't bring drama.

　　Back then, he had just taken over Johnson Group—problems on all sides. He needed someone low-maintenance, someone who wouldn't add to the mess.

　　But three years went by, and somehow, she'd become part of his everyday life. She remembered he hated cilantro. She always had hangover pills ready after his business dinners, and would sneak in a cup of warm milk whenever he pulled another all-nighter. She never asked for anything, not even once. Even when he gave her expensive gifts, she'd just say a quiet "thanks" and carefully put them away.

　　He'd seen her when she broke down, and he'd also seen her at her toughest.

　　He wasn't sure when exactly things started to shift.

　　What they had wasn't just some deal anymore. Something changed. Something he didn't dare put a name to.

　　So when she cautiously brought up marriage and kids, he shut it down without thinking.

　　Not because he didn't want it, but because he was scared.

　　He grew up watching his parents drag each other down in a loveless marriage arranged purely for business. His idea of marriage had always been about trade-offs and emotional exhaustion.

　　He was terrified of living like that — afraid of going all in, scared of being tied down, and even more terrified... of being left behind.

　　"Hey, bro?" Raymond's voice pulled him out of it.

　　Simon set the glass down and rubbed his temples. "Yeah, I've been over her for a while. Honestly, her leaving makes things easier."

　　Raymond glanced at his brother's clenched fist and sighed quietly.

　　He had a feeling — sooner or later, Simon was going to regret all of this.