Chapter 29

Amelia's eyelashes fluttered open beautifully, making way for her beautiful lime-green eyes to present themselves, and drag her back to reality.

Her chest heaved up and down slowly, as she tried to regain herself. She gritted her teeth and desperately forced herself to sit up.

"What happened?" she asked under her breath.

"You passed out," a voice answered from the other end of the room, where the window was located. His voice was mellow.

Amelia cast a glance in Cullen's direction, only to find him reading a book. She sighed softly, and her throat burned when she saw him putting on reading glasses.

He looked breathtaking, the best sight she could ever lay her eyes on. She thought guys in glasses were nerds and unattractive until this moment. She was smitten by his looks for a long time.

Her face flushed. Cullen was super attractive with his glasses on. It enhanced his charms a hundred times higher, giving him that vibe of a sexy Greek god.

His study muscles and firm abs showcased themselves, giving a clear outline underneath the white shirt he was putting on and…

Amelia immediately turned the other way. She can't welcome such thoughts, it would be agreeing to Daniel's words if she did.

She sighed softly and said under her breath. "He's attractive and he knows it. The high level of confidence around him explains it,"

Cullen dropped the book he was reading and turned to face her fully. His eyes softened when they rested on her. "How do you feel now? Have you had breakfast already?" he asked, taking off his glasses.

When he asked his she felt and mentioned breakfast, everything that happened earlier forced itself into her mind, squeezing itself through the tiny while in her brain, and crushing every happy cell in her.

When she admired Cullen earlier, excitement filled her eyes. But now, the excitement was nowhere to be seen. They disappeared, and bitterness replaced them.

"I'm so sorry about that," she said soberly. She bled her head, feeling embarrassed that she couldn't hide her emotions.

Cullen cleared his throat, "Don't worry about those insignificant things. I just replaced them," he paused, studied her body language, and continued, "What we should be concerned about is you. Do you need therapy?"

Amelia furrowed her brows. The term 'we' in his sentences blew her off balance. It slammed her heart, and for once again in her life, she felt valued again.

Cullen waited for her to reply, and after a long moment of silence, he parted his lips. "I can be your therapy if you want," he declared with unwavering confidence.

When Amelia heard him, her eyes widened, and she chuckled in disbelief. His words sounded so comedic, and she couldn't keep it in.

"You?" she raised her face, and pointed a playful finger at him, "You? My therapist? You don't even look like one," she joked, with a small smile at the end.

Cullen's eyebrows arched in astonishment. He wondered why she laughed. What does she mean by "doesn't look like one?"

Amelia raised her eyes to the ceiling and rested them on him again. "You always have constant mood swings. I can't imagine telling you what bothers me and end up receiving cold shoulders," she explained the reason for her laugh so he doesn't get pissed off.

"Hmm," Cullen hummed in understanding. Remembering what he saw earlier, he picked up his phone and walked towards her.

He sat at the end of the bed, keeping a good distance away from her. After a few swipes through his phone, he stretched it towards her.

Amelia blinked at his gesture. She learned backward, to control how his strong sweet scent flowed into her nose.

Not asking any questions, she received the phone from him. Confusion covered her face when she saw the face of her mother on the screen.

"What_"

"Play the video," Cullen ordered before she would ask a question. She doesn't need to ask, her whole answer lies in that video.

Amelia took in a deep breath. Reluctantly, she played the video….

The background of the video was noisy, her mother was holding a press conference. Lots of cameras flashed on the face of her Mother, including thousands and thousands of questions.

"Are you sure of what you're saying?" Amelia heard a reporter ask her mother. The video was live an hour ago.

"I am," Rebecca replied, "My very own daughter slept with another man, cheated on her good husband, and ran away with the man,"

Amelia's blood ran cold when she heard her mother. Her eyes widened in shock, trying to comprehend her mother's words.

"As a mother," Rebecca continued with a straight face, "...as a mother, I'm sure most of you may be surprised why I'm saying all of these and pouring out her secrets. Well, I'm a mother doesn't mean I should watch someone suffer because of my child. Daniel has suffered a lot in this marriage, so in the upcoming Thanksgiving, if you don't see her, my son-in-law has nothing to do with her absence,"

A reporter stretched a microphone towards, saying, "If all of these happened as you just claimed they did, why are you the one talking about it and not her husband?"

There was an uproar from the reporters after this question. The majority of them frowned at the question, trying to tear down the reporter who just asked such, in their opinion, senseless questions.

Rebecca just smiled smartly, not failing her emotions. Somehow, she had foreseen Amelia's absence as Daniel's wife causing a mighty wave in her company. People would throw words at Daniel, and it might dig out an ancient war again.

Clearing her throat, she replied, "Daniel can't face the public right now. What happened left him shaken, and too bad he loves my daughter so much to do…"

Amelia furiously paused the video and returned the phone to Cullen. She clenched her fist in lain and rejection.

She couldn't believe her mother said such words in public. What has she ever done to that disgusting monster? Slow tears began to trace down her cheeks.

Cullen gladly picked up his phone from the bed. Amelia was too emotional to give him his phone and ended up throwing it at him.

Cullen's eyes darkened. He brought his thumb to her face, gently wiped her tears, and asked in a grave compelling tune. "Do you want me to kill your mother?"