Ran Away Pregnant Came Back Alpha Heiress (Amelia and Damien) novel Chapter 143

**Night Whispers Forgotten Names – Colin Shah**
**Chapter 143**

No, Damien would never allow me to slip away. Yet, perhaps there existed another avenue, another person I could turn to for assistance in my desperate bid for freedom. Someone who would likely not be thrilled about my sudden reappearance, particularly if she was in the process of weaving a new life with my husband.

“Cara,” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I cracked the door open just enough to be heard. “I need you to set up a meeting for me with Claire.”

Cara’s eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Claire? Are you absolutely certain about this?”

My heart raced with a mixture of dread and hope. “She might despise me enough to wish for my absence from this place.”

**Claire’s POV**

Amelia’s unexpected request for a meeting intrigued me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Historically, she had either fled from my presence or harbored a deep-seated animosity towards me. The idea that she actually wanted to sit down and discuss matters was utterly foreign to me.

As I wrestled with the possibilities of what she might say, I found it impossible to dismiss her plea. My curiosity was piqued, and a darker part of me relished the thought of witnessing her suffering firsthand.

What better way to indulge in this twisted delight than over a cup of tea and an assortment of delectable snacks?

I meticulously arranged a tray filled with an array of delightful treats, each more tempting than the last. The teapot sat steaming, exuding warmth and inviting aromas, eagerly awaiting my guest’s arrival.

When Amelia finally stepped into the room, I couldn’t help but notice her pallor and the way she clutched her arms around herself, as if seeking comfort from her own frailty. One of my servants guided her in, and I was relieved to see her hulking bodyguard linger near the door, a silent sentinel.

I gestured toward the chair that mirrored my own, an invitation wrapped in feigned hospitality. Amelia moved slowly, almost painfully, as she made her way to it and sank down. Her features were drawn tight, her brow creased in evident distress.

A wicked thrill coursed through me at the sight of her discomfort.

For the moment, I opted to wear a mask of concern. “Oh dear, Amelia, you appear quite unwell. What on earth has happened to you?”

“I think you know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the pain etched across her face.

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