No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 85

**TITLE: My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom**

**Chapter 85: The Fire in the Garden**

Ethan was the first to emerge from the car, stepping out with an air of confidence that only a man who felt at ease in his surroundings could possess. He walked around to the passenger side, embodying the very essence of a gentleman, and with a flourish, he opened the door for Hannah, who smiled gratefully as she stepped out.

Isla, bursting with youthful exuberance, leapt from the backseat, her spirit infectious. She immediately grabbed Hannah’s hand with one tiny fist while clinging to Ethan’s arm with the other, swinging their arms joyfully as if they were a trio dancing to an unspoken rhythm.

In the warm embrace of the sunlight, Ethan looked every bit the dashing figure of a devoted father, Hannah radiated warmth and gentleness, and Isla, with her bright eyes and beaming smile, was the picture of innocence. Together, they formed a tableau that resembled a postcard-perfect family snapshot, one that seemed to encapsulate happiness itself.

Ethan was blissfully unaware of any underlying tension in the air; he simply beamed at Isla with a fatherly affection that made his heart swell.

However, Grace, watching from a distance, felt her heart freeze like the harshest winter. The scene before her was a stark reminder of her meticulously crafted plans, all of which hinged on Amelia’s continued role as Ethan’s wife. Grace had envisioned a world where she could manipulate everything and everyone through Amelia, but now it was painfully evident that her son had succumbed to the allure of the very woman she deemed unworthy.

With an almost imperceptible turn of her head, Grace scrutinized Amelia’s expression, searching for any sign of distress. In her mind, Amelia should have been at least feigning hurt, her face a canvas of sorrow or rage. But Amelia’s countenance was an impenetrable mask, revealing nothing.

No flicker of anger danced in her eyes. No hint of sadness marred her features. Instead, her gaze remained steady, observing the joyous trio below with an unsettling calmness. Grace felt a chill run through her; a heart that has gone silent often carries the deepest sadness.

For the very first time, Grace found herself understanding the weight of those words, spoken about a daughter-in-law she had never truly respected. Panic, unfamiliar and unwelcome, began to swell within her chest.

As if on cue, the maids, following Grace’s earlier instructions, ignited the pile of discarded items in the garden. The flames erupted with a fierce whoosh, consuming everything that belonged to Amelia and sending thick tendrils of black smoke spiraling into the sky.

Though it felt like a senseless waste—none of these items could even be salvaged for resale—Amelia found herself enveloped in an unexpected sense of liberation as she watched the fire dance.

And how fortuitous it was that Grace had suggested the burning. Amelia knew that if it had been left to her, despite her disdain, she could never have brought herself to do it.

Ethan remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil brewing around him. Hannah, however, had a keen eye. She noticed a small white feather lodged in the collar of Ethan’s suit, likely a remnant from Isla’s jacket. Her smile widened, softening her features even more. She paused mid-step, rose onto her toes, and leaned in close to him.

“Ethan, just hold still for a moment,” she said, her voice a gentle whisper.

With delicate fingers, she reached out and plucked the feather away, her touch tender and intimate, reminiscent of a scene meant for lovers.

From her vantage point on the second floor, Grace observed the entire interaction with growing ire. To her, it appeared as if Hannah was practically nestled against Ethan’s chest, their heads nearly brushing, creating an illusion of intimacy that made Grace’s stomach churn.

Her heart sank further as she realized that her son was completely captivated by this woman. He was openly displaying affection in their own garden, shamelessly lost in the moment.

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