Her Rebirth.-Chapter 25

As they finished eating, the man returned, wiping his hands on a rag. He looked at Amelia, then at Kai, a teasing smile forming on his lips.

"You know, I’ve known this kid since he was this tall," he said, holding his hand low to the ground. "Back then, he was the cutest little thing, always following me around, calling me ’Uncle’ every chance he got."

Amelia turned to Kai, surprised.

He had this side to him?

Thinking about it, she supposed it made sense. Before the Blackwoods had interfered, Kai must have lived a normal, even happy childhood.

Kai exhaled sharply, looking mildly exasperated. "I was five." He reached for his wallet. "And you don’t have to tell her that," he muttered, handing over the payment.

The man laughed heartily. "Just reminiscing, kid." He patted Kai’s shoulder and added, "Still, it’s nice to see you bringing someone here. You should come by more often."

Kai nodded, and the man walked away.

As they left the restaurant and walked back to the car, Kai slid his hands into his pockets. "You seemed to enjoy the food," he commented.

Amelia stiffened slightly.

It was only then that she realized—she had been so caught up in the moment, she had completely forgotten to mind her table manners.

Her stomach dropped.

She must have looked completely unrefined, slurping noodles without grace, eating with her full enthusiasm like someone who hadn’t eaten for days.

She internally berated herself.

Oh god. I must have looked like a starving animal.

How could she have let herself slip like this?

When she had been Amelia Valemont, she had undergone years of rigorous etiquette training. Every movement, every glance, every word was carefully honed to perfection.

She remembered the grueling lessons, the endless corrections. Back straight. Hands delicate. Eat in measured bites. No excessive chewing. No noise. No mistakes.

Then, when she had married Aldric, she had perfected herself even further.

She had heard rumors that Aldric preferred a refined woman. A queen should be flawless in every aspect, especially at the dining table.

And so, she had mastered the art of dining.

She ate in delicate, precise movements, her posture never faltering. Once she picked up her utensils, she would not speak until the meal was over. Not a single speck of food ever touched her lips.

She had been the perfect Empress. Graceful. Restrained. Impeccable.

And yet... now...

Now, she had eaten so freely before Kai.

Why?

With him, she hadn’t even thought about it. She hadn’t felt the need to be perfect. She hadn’t been afraid of judgment.

She had simply... been herself.

It was unsettling.

And yet, for some reason, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Kai, unaware of her inner turmoil but noticing the various changes in her expression, raised a brow. "Was I wrong?"

Amelia shook her head quickly. "No! I did enjoy it. It was... really good."

Kai’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he gave a small, satisfied nod. "I’m glad."

They reached the car, and as Kai started the engine, Amelia hesitated before speaking.

"I have a request," she said.

Kai glanced at her, his expression unreadable, before returning to the road. "Go on."

She took a breath, carefully gauging his reaction. "If it’s possible... I’d like to stay with you for a while." Scared that he might disagree, she quickly added, "I can pay rent."

Kai’s fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. "Why?"

Amelia exhaled, resting her head against the window. "Mason is making things difficult for me. He’s blocking hotels from lodging me and stopping realtors from renting me a place in the city. I’m thinking of getting a house outside the city, but until then..."

Kai was silent for a moment before responding.

"You can stay with me," he said simply. Then, with a smirk, he added, "And you don’t need to pay rent. You are my fiancée, after all."

Amelia stared at him, momentarily speechless.

She blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

"Yeah." He responded. Then he teased, "Just try not to burn my kitchen down."

Amelia groaned, covering her face. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

...

On the wall of the room were framed sketches of iconic designs of the brand, sketches of handbags, dresses, and accessories, some neatly spaced, others playfully overlapping.

At the corner of the office was a sleek glass shelf displaying their signature bags, and beside it were several dress dummies draped in iconic pieces worth millions of dollars.

This was the office of the vice chairman of Liavenne.

Marie Denver.

She sat at her sleek mahogany desk, her fingers skimming through the latest reports on her tablet when a soft knock came at the door.

"Come in," she called without looking up.

Her assistant, a sharp-looking woman in her early thirties, stepped inside, holding a tablet of her own. "Mrs. Denver, you’ve received an email from Amelia Cosgrove."

That made Marie pause. She glanced up, her brows lifting slightly. "Amelia Cosgrove?"

"Yes, ma’am." The assistant placed the tablet in front of her, showing the message. "She says she wishes to speak with you."

Marie leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the wooden armrest. Amelia Cosgrove...

She remembered the young woman well. Besides, she had caused quite a scene at her grandfather’s birthday. But apart from that, her poised mannerisms and calculating speech had made Marie quite interested in her.

She had been curious about how Amelia would deal with the Cosgrove family in the coming years, that was until she had heard the rumors.

Amelia Cosgrove had been driven away from the Cosgrove estate. Some said she had left of her own accord; others claimed she had been forced out. Either way, she was now adrift, no longer shielded by the Cosgrove name.

And now, she was reaching out.

Marie’s lips curled into a thoughtful smile.

Interesting.

She had no idea what Amelia wanted, but she was curious to find out.

She turned to her assistant. "Reply to her. Let her know I’m available for a meeting. Set a date for later this week."

The assistant nodded. "Right away, ma’am."

As she left, Marie fell into thought, tapping a nail against the glass surface of her desk.

This should be entertaining.