The CEO's Regret: You made me your lie, I become your Loss-Chapter 99: Sudden heart attack

The flight back to Verenza was a hollow, echoing contrast to the journey that had brought them there.

The private cabin, which had once been a space of whispered promises and stolen touches, was now filled with a heavy, suffocating silence.

Julian didn’t leave her side for a single second. He sat on the edge of the plush leather seat, his arm a constant, grounding weight around Amara’s shoulders. He didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or "it will be okay."

Instead, he just held her hand, his thumb tracing the gold of her wedding band, the ring Madam Pedro had watched him place on her finger just days ago with tears of joy in her eyes.

As the plane dipped through the clouds above Verenza, the golden sunset that usually signaled beauty now felt like a taunt. The city lights began to flicker on, but for Amara, the world had gone dark.

The moment the cabin door opened, the humid, familiar air of home hit them. It didn’t smell like jasmine and sea salt anymore; it smelled of dust and impending sorrow.

Julian guided her through the airport and into the waiting black SUV with a protective intensity that bordered on ferocity. He shielded her from the few photographers who had already caught wind of the tragedy, his body a literal wall between her and the world.

The iron gates of the Pedro estate swung open with a slow, mournful creak. The long driveway was already lined with cars, and the white stone of the house was illuminated by the flickering glow of lanterns.

As they stepped out of the car, the sound hit them, the low, rhythmic wailing of the distant relatives and the somber, steady beat of a traditional funeral dirge. The house was no longer a home; it was a monument to loss.

Julian caught her as her knees buckled on the first step of the veranda. He didn’t just steady her; he lifted her slightly, his mouth pressing against her temple.

"I have you," he whispered, his voice the only steady thing in the chaos. "I’m not letting go, Amara. Not for a second."

They walked into the grand foyer together. The scent of lilies was overwhelming, a cloying sweetness that made the swelling and the aches of the honeymoon feel like a cruel joke from a past life.

In the center of the room, surrounded by candles, was the portrait of Madam Pedro, regal, smiling, and devastatingly still.

Julian felt Amara’s hand tighten in his until her nails bit into his palm. He didn’t flinch. He leaned in, his chest against her back, his presence a silent vow. The honeymoon was over, but the forever he had promised her against that oak door was starting now, in the hardest way possible.

The foyer of the Pedro estate was a blur of black silk. Through the haze of her own grief, Amara saw two figures emerge from the shadows of the grand staircase her twin sister, Amira, and Leo.

The resemblance between the sisters had always been striking, but now, mirrored in sorrow, it was haunting. Amira’s eyes were bloodshot, her face pale, and she was tugging nervously at her short red hair, a restless habit she only succumbed to when her world was falling apart.

Amara didn’t wait. She crossed the marble floor in a frantic stride, collapsing into her sister’s arms. The sob that broke from her was raw, a sound that made Julian flinch where he stood by the door.

"What happened, Amira?" Amara choked out, her fingers digging into her twin’s shoulders. "Mother was fine. We spoke... she was healthy. What happened to her?"

Amira shook her head, her voice trembling as she pulled a lock of red hair behind her ear. "I don’t know, Amara. I don’t know. Last night... James found her in her study. She was unconscious. By the time they got her to the hospital, the doctors said it was a massive heart attack."

"That’s not possible!" Amara’s voice rose, turning sharp with a desperate kind of anger. "Mother goes for check-ups every single week. She was the healthiest person I knew! You don’t just have a heart attack out of the blue like that!"

She began to lose control, her breathing coming in shallow, jagged gasps. The room felt like it was spinning, the portraits of their ancestors, the flickering candles, the weight of the forever she had just promised Julian.

Leo stepped forward, his expression etched with a quiet, somber pain, and wrapped a steadying arm around Amira. Beside them, Julian remained unnervingly still.

Julian wasn’t crying. Instead, his dark eyes were narrowed, intensely studying Amira’s face, then shifting to scan the room. He looked less like a grieving son-in-law and more like a man looking for a crack in a story that didn’t quite fit.

"She’s right," Julian murmured, his voice a low, clinical vibration that cut through the sisters’ weeping. "A heart attack for a woman with her medical record is... statistically improbable."

The days that followed were a grueling marathon of tradition and mourning. Between the arrival of the extended family from across Verenza and the endless planning for a funeral befitting a woman of Madam Pedro’s stature, the toll on Amara was visible.

The glow from the honeymoon evaporated, replaced by hollowed cheeks and dark circles.

Every time she passed the study, she felt a cold shiver. The slow-burning love she had shared with Julian just days ago felt like a dream from someone else’s life. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Julian remained her shadow, forced into a role of silent protector. He would bring her tea she wouldn’t drink and lead her to bed when her legs gave out, but he spent his nights staring at the door of the study, his mind clearly miles away from the mourning.

The air in the Pedro estate had grown thick with the scent of incense and the heavy, humid weight of a thousand unspoken questions. The grief was a physical entity, pressing down on Amara until every step felt like wading through deep water.

Two nights before the funeral, the house finally fell into a fitful, haunted silence. Amara couldn’t sleep; the silk sheets of her childhood bed felt like a shroud. Guided by a restless instinct, she found herself standing before the heavy double doors of her mother’s study.

The door creaked open, revealing Julian. He wasn’t mourning. He was standing by the mahogany desk, the green-shaded lamp casting sharp, clinical shadows across his face. He held a small, leather-bound ledger in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other.

"Julian?" Amara whispered, her voice cracking. "What are you doing? It’s three in the morning."

He looked up, his dark eyes shimmering with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

"Amara, come here." He didn’t wait for her to move; he crossed the room and pulled her into the circle of lamplight.

"I’ve been going over her medical records from the last six months. Your mother didn’t have a heart condition. She had the cardiovascular health of a woman twenty years younger."