My trembling voice broke as I asked, desperate to believe it wasn’t true.
Gilbert’s eyes flickered with something that resembled heartache, but it was gone in an instant.
Irene leaned close, her voice sickeningly sweet in my ear. “Amelia, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I only wanted to visit Uncle Byrd that day, but I couldn’t help myself—I accidentally told him you were in jail. I didn’t realize it would upset him so much.”
Her words hit me like a blow, and the grief I’d been holding back erupted. I spun around, my voice shaking with fury.
“Why would you say that to him? You knew he had heart disease! Why are you so cruel? You already have everything—why couldn’t you just leave us alone? Why couldn’t you leave him alone?”
Before I could say more, Gilbert stepped between us, shielding her. His voice was cold and cutting.
“Amelia, enough. Your father is gone. Stop taking your anger out on others. If you want to blame someone, blame his bad luck—not us.”
I froze, his words slicing through me like a blade. Bad luck? He had treated my father like a son. My father had given him everything, and this was how he repaid him—with cruelty and indifference.
Tears burned my eyes as I glared at him. “Gilbert, are you even human? How dare you speak of my father that way? Without him, you’d be nothing.”
Irene stepped forward, her expression painted with mock concern. She reached for my hand. “Amelia, don’t be angry with Gilbert. This is all my fault. Please don’t take it out on him.”
Her false kindness was the final straw. I pushed her away, unable to contain my rage. “I went to jail for you! I lost everything because of you! Why can’t you just leave me alone? I owe you nothing—you’re the ones who wronged me!”
I didn’t push her hard, but Irene still fell back, clutching her arm as a small scratch appeared.
Gilbert rushed to her side, his face dark with anger. He knelt to check her injury, then turned to me, his voice seething with fury.
“Amelia, you’ve gone too far. This isn’t your prison cell. Apologize to Irene now.”
Before I could respond, he shoved me back. The edge of a cabinet caught my stomach, and a sharp, searing pain shot through me.
I gasped, clutching my abdomen as beads of sweat formed on my forehead. The room spun, and I sank to the floor, unable to focus on anything but the pain.
Gilbert noticed my state, his anger momentarily giving way to concern. He took a hesitant step toward me.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, his tone hard but laced with unease.
I couldn’t answer. The pain was unbearable, stealing my breath and leaving me unable to speak.
Irene noticed that Gilbert’s gaze lingered on me, and panic flickered across her face. She quickly clutched her injured arm, her voice trembling with false selflessness.
“Gilbert, if Amelia doesn’t want to apologize, it’s okay. I’m fine, really... but my arm hurts a little.”
Gilbert hesitated for only a moment before turning fully toward her. Without so much as a glance back at me, he scooped her up in his arms.
“I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said, his tone gentle yet decisive.
And just like that, he walked out. No hesitation, no second thought, no trace of the man I once knew.
The sharp, unrelenting pain in my stomach blurred my vision, and I watched helplessly as the door closed behind them.
“Gilbert,” I whispered hoarsely, “I can’t love you anymore. I don’t want to.”
As the words left my lips, a coppery taste flooded my mouth. Blood surged up my throat, and darkness consumed me.
