Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 380

“Ahhh!”

Violet flung the package off her lap, but since she’d opened it on her legs, the cockroaches inside scattered straight onto her. They crawled up her thighs, across her chest and back, and over her arms, skittering in every direction.

“Ahhh! Ahhh!”

Panic-stricken, Violet flailed wildly, desperate to shake them off. But stuck in her wheelchair, she couldn’t get away. In her distress, she toppled out of the chair and landed with a sickening smack—right in the middle of the writhing cockroaches. One even crawled up her face, fluttering its wings as it buzzed toward her eye.

Every inch of Violet’s skin crawled with revulsion. She looked up and spotted the housekeeper, standing well out of harm’s way. Panic instantly turned to fury.

“Are you deaf or dead? Get over here and help me!”

“Ms. Scott, if you’re scared, so am I. I’m terrified of cockroaches!” the housekeeper whimpered, feigning tears.

In truth, the housekeeper wasn’t scared at all. She’d worked pest control before—rats, bugs, you name it. But now, she was deliberately dragging her feet. Who asked Ms. Scott to be so nasty to her all the time?

...

Mogan’s head was pounding. He’d barely had a moment to breathe before Violet called, sobbing uncontrollably.

“It must be Amelia… Who else would pull something this twisted?” Violet was still scratching all over, even after a shower. She choked out the words between hiccuping sobs.

Mogan had been tormented by that same infestation all day and had no energy left for sympathy. He mustered the last of his patience to assure her, “I’ll get to the bottom of it,” before hanging up.

He massaged his throbbing temples, then dialed Amelia.

“Amelia, aren’t you afraid of karma, pulling a stunt like this?”

Amelia sounded genuinely baffled on the other end. “Excuse me, Mr. White? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mogan gritted his teeth. “You don’t dare admit it? Are you seriously going to claim you didn’t send the package?”

“Oh, I always own up to what I do. But tell me, Mr. White—do you?” Amelia replied evenly. “I have no idea what package you mean, but my family got a threatening delivery a few days ago—a dead bird inside. Care to explain, Mr. White?”

Mogan was caught off guard, momentarily speechless.

Amelia pressed on. “You’re being awfully accusatory—just because you got a nasty package, you’re questioning me? Why would I target you? If I wanted payback, I’d send something to whoever delivered that dead bird to my house. Unless you were the one, why would I have a grudge against you?”

She paused, then added, “If you’re calling to blame me, shouldn’t I turn that around? Who sent the dead bird to my house—was it you?”

Mogan was utterly stymied.

It was a dead-end argument. If he insisted Amelia sent the cockroaches, he’d be admitting he was behind the dead bird. He couldn’t say that—so he was forced into silence.

All he could do now was track down the delivery person and force out the truth. Once he had a witness, Amelia wouldn’t be able to deny it.

But his people had spent all afternoon investigating, and still couldn’t find out who delivered the package. People who do dirty work usually know how to cover their tracks.

Fight fire with fire.

Mogan’s rage boiled over. His eyes reddened as he slammed his phone down.

...

That afternoon, back at the family estate for dinner, Grandma Edith leaned over and whispered to Amelia, “How did it go?”

The first bouquet he’d ever given Amelia had looked just like this.

Pink roses were a dime a dozen, but blue roses—those were special.

Amelia had looked up the meaning of blue roses before:

“To meet is fate; to stay together is destiny.”

It was so romantic that back then, she’d rolled around on her bed, giddy with happiness.

The sweeter those memories, the more ridiculous they seemed now. They were about to get divorced, and here he was, pulling the same old moves.

Especially after receiving two other bouquets like that recently, Amelia was even less inclined to take this one.

“Can you stop with these over-the-top gestures?”

His tone was so plaintive, he sounded like a man abandoned a hundred times over.

Amelia couldn’t help it—she laughed. “And could you stop writing those cringe-worthy notes on the cards?”

Daniel looked genuinely puzzled. “What cards?”

Amelia froze. “…You didn’t send the flowers to the research institute?”