The CEO's Regret: You made me your lie, I become your Loss-Chapter 62: My baby

The heavy door swung open, and Madam Pedro swept into the foyer, a whirlwind of frantic energy, followed by three men in white coats carrying heavy medical cases.

"My baby!" Madam Pedro cried out, her voice sharp with panic. She bypassed the furniture, aiming straight for the center of the room to pull Amara into a suffocating embrace.

Amira stood just a few feet away, her expression entirely vacant, as if she were looking through a glass pane at a television screen. She didn’t look at Madam Pedro, nor did she acknowledge her presence. Amira simply tucked her phone back into her pocket, watching the scene with cold detachment.

"I heard what happened," Madam Pedro rushed on, checking Amara’s face, turning her head from side to side. "I am so sorry I wasn’t with you, baby. I’m going to kill that Seb this time around. I will kill him, bring him back to life, and kill him again!"

Amara felt the frantic heartbeat of her mother against her own chest. She tried to catch her breath, to speak. "Mother, I..."

"The maids told me every time I called that you were home!" Madam Pedro interrupted, shaking her head furiously. "They said you were resting. I didn’t suspect a thing! I’m sorry, baby."

That was because Amira was home pretending to be me. Amara’s mind raced, trying to bridge the gap between her mother’s arrival and the cold, manipulative presence of her twin standing mere feet away.

"I heard Seb also gave you drugs," Madam Pedro continued, turning to the doctors. "Check on her. Make sure she is fine. I want a full blood panel immediately."

"Mother, I’m okay," Amara tried to argue, stepping back. "Amira and I were..." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Before she could finish the sentence, Madam Pedro was already pushing her forward, handing her off to the waiting doctors like a fragile doll. It was a practiced, relentless motion.

Wait, no, I need to tell her about Amira. I need to tell her about the photo.

"Relax, baby," Madam Pedro said, walking backward as the doctors began to move. "They need to do a full medical check-up, alright?"

The doctors didn’t wait for Amara’s consent. They deftly guided her into a waiting wheelchair. The metallic tang of the oxygen mask was forced over her nose and mouth, the cool air rushing into her lungs. The world suddenly felt muffled, distant.

No, stop! Amara fought to lift her hands, to scream, but the doctors were already turning the wheelchair, pushing her away from the foyer toward the east wing, toward the private medical room converted from a guest lounge.

Madam Pedro was walking swiftly behind them, her face set in grim determination.

Amira laughed. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated pain. She stood alone in the center of the foyer, watching her mother rush to check on her sister, completely unbothered that she had just been ignored.

Madam Pedro stopped cold in her tracks, the medical staff halting behind her. She turned slowly, her face a mask of iron-clad resolve, leaving Amara to be wheeled away alone into the sterile light of the medical suite.

Amira stood in the center of the vast, marble foyer, her expression shifting from triumphant to a fragile, desperate defensiveness.

"Well," Amira sneered, her voice echoing in the sudden silence, "to the woman that said she loved us equally."

Madam Pedro took a deliberate step toward her niece, her gaze predatory. "You listen to me, Amira. I loved your mother because she was my sister. I would have given everything for her. I knew she was sick, but I didn’t try to help her. I let it slide because I thought I was protecting her. So when she pretended to be like me and slept with my husband..."

Madam Pedro’s voice trembled, not with weakness, but with a decades-old rage. "...not once, but on many occasions, it broke my heart. I was angry."

Amira blinked, the sneer faltering as she stared at the woman who had raised her.

"But when I found out she died giving birth to you," Madam Pedro continued, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, "I loved you. I have loved you like you were my own. You were a piece of the man I love, and a piece of my sister. So believe me when I say I have loved you since the day our parents put you in my arms."

She took another step closer until she was towering over the younger woman.

"But when it comes to Amara, I will not let you hurt her. I will not stand by and watch you ruin her life as your mother did to mine. You want Amara to know the truth about Amabel? Fine. I will tell her. And I will tell the whole world as well. Then you will fully understand what I have been trying to protect you from."

Madam Pedro leaned in, her eyes freezing over. "You want it this way, right? I will do it your way."

The facade of the poised, untouchable twin crumbled. Amira’s jaw dropped, her eyes filling with instant, hot tears. "You will really tell the world I am an illegitimate child, Auntie?"

"Yes," Madam Pedro said coldly. "If that is what it will take for you to stop trying to harm Amara."

Amira let out a sharp, hysterical sob, her hands shaking violently at her sides. "Wow. Mother! Keep believing the lie you keep telling yourself!" Amira yelled, the sound tearing at her throat. "If it were Amara, you would protect her, but if it’s me, you are quick to judge me!"

Madam Pedro’s breath hitched. Her chest felt heavy, like it was filled with stones. She looked at Amira, really looked at her, and felt a coldness she had tried for years to keep away.

"My Amara..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "She would never do this. She wouldn’t even hurt a fly. But you..."

The words stuck in her throat. She wanted to scream, but the pain was too deep for noise. She had tried. God, how she had tried to love this girl. She had pushed down the anger and ignored the sharp words, hoping that kindness would fix what was broken. But now Amara was in pain not just on the outside, but in her heart, and the wall of patience finally crumbled.

"You are..." Madam Pedro stopped. She couldn’t finish the sentence. The truth was too ugly to say out loud.

Amira didn’t flinch. She stood tall, the silk of the stolen dress shimmering under the hall lights. A cold, bitter smile twisted her lips.

"Just like my mother," Amira said. Each word was a slow drop of poison. "Go ahead. Say it. I am just like her."

She stepped closer, her eyes hard and dry. "Stop the act. Stop pretending you ever cared. You aren’t my mother. But this is still my father’s house. Everything Amara has, I have a right to. Everything."