No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Footsteps Fading Away**

Once again, Ethan found himself in a tight spot due to an unreasonable demand. The weight of the moment hung in the air, and he turned to Amelia, his eyes searching for some sign of support or understanding.

Amelia, however, felt a profound numbness wash over her. It was as if she were trapped in a fog, unable to process the chaos around her. She met Ethan’s gaze with a cool indifference, then softly averted her eyes. “Go ahead,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Those two simple words sent a shiver of unease through Ethan. He was a man who always prioritized appearances, and deep down, he understood that abandoning his wife and in-laws to join Hannah and her daughter at a separate table would be nothing short of a betrayal, a crushing blow to the dignity of the Harlows.

In private, he could show kindness to Hannah and her daughter, but in this public setting, the only woman he could acknowledge as his wife was Amelia. The realization darkened Ethan’s expression, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Isla,” he said, his voice firm, “be a good girl and go eat with your mother over there. If you don’t, I’ll have someone take you home right now.”

Isla, taken aback by the seriousness in her father’s tone, froze in shock. Her lips quivered, and tears began to pool in her wide eyes. In the end, she allowed Hannah to take her hand, following the butler to the adjacent table with a heavy heart.

Ethan returned to Amelia’s side, raising his wine glass as he addressed the Harlows, who wore a mix of expressions ranging from concern to discomfort. “I apologize for the disruption. Isla is the daughter of a late friend of mine. On his deathbed, he made me promise to look after them, and perhaps I’ve indulged her a bit too much. I sincerely apologize for the scene.”

David, eager to smooth over the tension, seized the opportunity. “Ethan, your loyalty to your friends is commendable,” he said flatly, and with those words, the Harlows, despite their discomfort, had no choice but to feign normalcy.

As the atmosphere at the banquet began to lighten, Ethan let out a quiet sigh of relief. He reached under the table to grasp Amelia’s hand, seeking solace. But when his fingertips brushed against her skin, he was taken aback by the icy chill emanating from her.

Amelia remained stiff, her face devoid of expression, not granting him even a glance.

The banquet concluded with a façade of harmony, but as guests began to disperse, Hannah approached once more, cradling a drowsy Isla in her arms. Anxiety etched on her face, she spoke urgently to Ethan, who had just risen from his seat. “Ethan, I think Isla has a fever.”

Without hesitation, Ethan reached out, placing his hand on Isla’s forehead. The warmth radiating from her skin made his heart sink. He quickly bent down, scooping Isla into his arms. “I’ll arrange for both of you to go to the hospital immediately,” he assured Hannah, his voice steady as he navigated through the crowd, urgency propelling him forward until they vanished at the entrance of the banquet hall.

Once they were gone, David could no longer maintain his composure. His face twisted with fury, dark as storm clouds, he turned to Amelia, who still stood there in silence. “Come to the study with me,” he commanded, his voice sharp.

“Amelia, listen carefully!” he continued, his tone icy as they entered the study room. David sank into his leather wingback chair, his demeanor cold and unyielding.

Amelia’s heart swelled with resentment, but she knew better than to voice her feelings.

“Look at the chaos you’ve created today!” David scolded, his voice dripping with disdain. “A perfectly good birthday celebration, and you’ve turned it into a disaster!”

Amelia kept her head bowed, refusing to defend herself. In David’s eyes, Ethan could do no wrong; he was the one who brought value to the Harlows, while she, the granddaughter, was merely a burden.

“That woman brought her child right to our faces, and you can’t even control your own husband!” David’s anger flared. “All these years of marriage, and not only can you not provide him with a child, but now you’re causing trouble, talking about focusing on your career!

“You’re becoming increasingly out of line! Don’t forget, as a woman, your duty is to support your husband! That is your place!”

“Stop this personal studio nonsense immediately! Starting tomorrow, you will stay home and learn how to be a proper wife!”

At this, Amelia finally lifted her head, her eyes ablaze with determination. “Grandpa, opening a studio doesn’t conflict with being his wife,” she asserted, her voice steady. “I won’t give it up.”

David resumed his tirade, his voice cold and cutting, each word a dagger that pierced through Amelia’s heart. The humiliation washed over her, a tide of shame that left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. He continued listing restriction after restriction, his voice a relentless storm.

The maids stood by, silent witnesses to the unfolding drama, their discomfort palpable but their loyalty to David unwavering.

Amelia’s heart throbbed with deep, aching pain, yet she remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of her tears.

“Get out! Go reflect on yourself!” David finally shouted, his rage spent. He waved his hand dismissively.

Amelia turned away, her legs numb from standing rigidly through his tirade. She stumbled slightly but regained her composure as she made her way toward the study door.

Outside, Beatrice’s face was a mask of undisguised mockery. “Amelia, it seems your time as Mrs. Rowe is running out,” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.

As the Harlows’ true daughter, Beatrice looked down on everyone, believing she could always crush Amelia, the interloper, into the dirt.

But who could have predicted that Amelia would find herself married to Ethan Rowe?

Amelia cast Beatrice a cool glance. “What, if I don’t last long, do you want to take my place?”

“Still trying to sound tough in this situation!” Beatrice taunted, her voice laced with derision.

Amelia couldn’t be bothered to engage with her. She stood there, expressionless, but Beatrice continued to mock her, her words sharp and malicious. “For all your airs, you can’t even compete with a widow and her child. How pathetic.”