Love Me Back (Amelia and Daniel) novel Chapter 379

“No.” Amelia strode straight to her car.

“Then give me a ride,” Daniel called after her.

She couldn’t believe his nerve. Pulling open the door, she shot him a look. “In your dreams.”

Amelia’s car swept past him without the slightest hesitation, the chill in the air ruffling Daniel’s hair as she sped off.

“Great, now you’re saying goodbye to me with the wind,” Daniel muttered, the king of self-consolation. “Borrowing the breeze to express your feelings, huh? Well, message received.”

…

Amelia headed to her research institute for a morning meeting that wrapped up at ten. She checked her watch, timed it just right, and made a call. “You can head over now.”

Mogan White’s tech company was finally gaining traction, and today, he was set to meet an important potential partner.

The negotiations went well—one more detailed discussion and the contract would be ready to sign.

Personally walking the partner out to their car, Mogan turned to head back in when the receptionist called after him.

“Mr. White, there’s a package for you at the front desk.”

He picked it up absentmindedly, tearing open the seal.

A scream escaped him as, in an instant, a swarm of cockroaches spilled out of the box. Even with nerves of steel, Mogan couldn’t help but yelp in terror.

He flung the box as far as he could, but that only made things worse—dozens of the creatures erupted into the lobby, scattering in every direction. The sight made everyone’s skin crawl.

Fuming, Mogan stormed back to his office. He hadn’t even sat down when a message from Mr. Ken appeared on his phone. The words were polite, but the meaning was clear: doing business required trust and harmony. Even if Mogan hadn’t sent the cockroaches, he’d clearly made some enemies, and Mr. Ken preferred not to get involved with someone carrying that kind of baggage.

Mogan had spent months preparing for this deal. He immediately called Mr. Ken, saying everything he could think of to make amends—short of getting down on his knees and begging. Eventually, Mr. Ken relented: they could talk again, but definitely not at Mogan’s office. The cockroach trauma was just too much.

Elsewhere, Violet Scott sat in her studio, restless and irritable.

She’d been in a funk lately—uninspired, every sketch ending up torn and tossed aside, the floor littered with crumpled sheets. When she heard her housekeeper calling her name, she snapped, “I heard you, no need to shout. I’m not deaf.”

Her attitude was always sharp when she was in a bad mood. The housekeeper, tolerating it only for the generous paycheck, forced a smile and kept her tone gentle. “Ms. Scott, you have a package.”

Violet, seated in her wheelchair, grabbed the package and set it on her lap. With a swift tug, she ripped open the seal—and in an instant, a flood of black cockroaches crawled out.