The CEO's Regret: You made me your lie, I become your Loss-Chapter 67: Have yourself to blame

Amara didn’t tremble. She stepped forward, crossing the threshold until she was inches from Elara’s face. Her voice was low, steady, and devastatingly calm.

The hallway seemed to shrink as the two women stood anchored in the dim light, the air between them thick with years of unspoken poison. Amara took a slow step forward, her gaze as sharp and cold as a blade.

"Your life, Elara?" Amara’s voice was a low, jagged whisper that scraped against the quiet.

"Each time, I wonder what your brain is actually made of. You married my boyfriend while you knew we were together, and you were perfectly fine with him calling me his wife in public. You stayed in the shadows. I get that you’d be jealous, but you schemed your way into Sebastian’s life."

She tilted her head, a cruel, knowing smile pulling at her lips. "You caused that accident. You pretended to save him. You forced your child on him. So, yes, everything happening to you right now, it’s all your own doing." 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the building’s ventilation. Amara stood her ground, her spine rigid, her eyes reflecting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long. When she spoke, her voice was eerily calm,

"You chose to lie, Elara," Amara said, the words measured and lethal. "You chose to be bitter. You chose to blame me for Sebastian’s obsession; he called love because it was easier than admitting you couldn’t keep his heart after everything you did to be with him."

She took a half-step closer, the shadows stretching behind her. "I should be the one angry. You both made me look like a fool. You killed my baby and intended to kill me, yet you think you have some right to vengeance? What about my vengeance?"

Amara let her gaze sweep over Elara with a chilling sense of pity. "Look at you. You’ve brought your child into a cold hallway to stalk me because you’re addicted to being a victim. You aren’t fighting for love, you’re just feeding a ghost. I left Seb for you; he is all yours."

Elara’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"If you want someone to blame for your pain, look in a mirror," Amara continued, her words like ice. "I am done with you and Seb. If you want a better life for Seren, go and build it. But stay away from me, or I’ll make sure the police show you exactly what happens to stalkers. Leave. Now."

Elara stepped back, her face turning a ghostly shade of white. She looked at Amara, really looked at the strength in her and felt her own rage crumble into a hollow, pathetic shame. Without a word, she grabbed Seren’s hand and turned, disappearing into the dark stairwell.

Amara closed the door and leaned against it, her heart thumping, but she felt a weight lift.

Minutes later, Julian returned, his cheeks flushed from the cold, carrying the bottle of wine. He didn’t see the ghost in the hallway; he only saw Amara standing by the fireplace, looking more radiant than he had seen her in months.

"The air is getting thick out there," Julian said, setting the wine down. "Are you okay? You look... different."

"I’m better than okay," Amara whispered. She walked to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

The fireplace in the Ice Villa crackled, a rhythmic snap of cedar that was the only sound against the muffled roar of the blizzard outside. Julian didn’t just sit near her; he pulled her into the space between his chest and the sofa’s arm, his heat radiating through his wool sweater.

Amara leaned her head back against his shoulder, her eyes tracing the way the orange light danced across the frost-patterned windows. For the first time in months, the tension in her jaw had simply... dissolved.

"You’re staring at the glass again," Julian whispered, his breath stirring the stray hairs at her temple. He traced the line of her knuckles with his thumb, a slow, hypnotic motion. "The world is buried out there, Amara. No one is coming up that trail tonight. Not Sebastian. Not the ghosts."

"It’s just quiet," she murmured, turning her hand to lace her fingers through his. Their palms pressed together, a silent contract of shared weight. "I’ve forgotten what quiet feels like when it isn’t a threat."

Julian shifted, turning her fully to face him. He reached up, his fingers lingering on the pulse point of her neck before cupping her cheek. "Tell me something," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble.

"Not about the court cases. Not about the accidents. If we woke up tomorrow and the world had forgotten our names... where would we go?"

Amara let out a soft, genuine laugh that felt foreign in her own throat. "I don’t even know how to think that far."

"Try," he urged, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip, not out of fear, but out of a sudden, terrifying hope. "A small house by the coast? A vineyard in the valley? Somewhere the air doesn’t taste like woodsmoke and secrets."

"The sea," she said finally, the image forming in her mind like a photograph developing in the dark. "I want a porch where I can hear the tide at four in the morning. I want to swim in water that isn’t a heated pool in a sterile hotel."

Julian smiled, and the sheer warmth of it felt more protective than the villa’s stone walls. He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. "Then that’s where we’re going. I’ll build the porch myself if I have to."

They talked until the fire died down to a low, pulsing ember. They spoke of mundane things, books they hadn’t finished, the way Amara laughed back in their school days, and the simple, radical idea of a Tuesday with nothing to fear. With every word, the invisible armor Amara had worn for a week chipped away.

When Julian finally led her toward the bedroom, he didn’t let go of her hand. As they climbed under the heavy down comforter, the chill of the room vanished against the heat of their proximity. He pulled her back against him, his arm draped over her waist, anchoring her.

"Sleep, Amara," he murmured into the nape of her neck. "I’ve got the watch."

In the heavy, velvet darkness of the mountains, Amara didn’t dream of flickering shadows or cold hallways. She drifted off to the steady, unbreakable rhythm of Julian’s heartbeat against her spine.