Too Much to Bear, My Love novel Chapter 83

Amelia hugged a pillow and said, “This matter isn’t solely Carter Scott’s fault.”

“You’re still trying to defend him! Amelia, don’t tell me that you still have feelings for him?” Tiffany exclaimed with wide eyes.

Amelia chuckled lightly. “The feelings I had for him have long dissipated four years ago. We aren’t compatible.”

“If you were to say you still have feelings for him, I’d break your legs and lock you up right here!”

Amelia tightened her grip on the pillow. “We ended up nowhere back then. Right now, it’ll only be even more impossible. His family and career have no correlation to me. We have no future together.”

Tiffany saw the flash of sorrow in Amelia’s eyes, her mood taking a downturn along with it.

“Amelia, to be honest, have you been unable to move on from Carter all these years? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have contacted him and even gone to work in his company.”

Amelia shook her head. “Tiff, I know my boundaries. Those years I spent being infatuated with him are long behind me.”

Tiffany glanced at the photographs on the table, finding them extremely offensive to the eyes. “Even though you claim you no longer feel that way about him, I doubt he feels the same way,” she said.

Tiffany had been by Amelia’s side, watching her grow from the sidelines. Naturally, she’d witnessed those years she spent crushing on Carter Scott. Back then, Amelia had been a university student with nothing to her name, while Carter was the ingenious, sophisticated child of a wealthy entrepreneur. The incomparable difference between their identities had caused her to bury her feelings for him deep inside her heart.

Although both of them had feelings for each other, neither of them tried to tear down the barrier between them. Carter Scott had never found out how she felt about him.

Clutching onto Amelia’s hand, Tiffany said, “Amelia, should you decide to divorce Oscar Clinton, perhaps Carter Scott would make a suitable life partner. But I still hope you’ll consider it carefully. The wealthy are too complicated. I don’t wish for you to be dragged into their mess and be unable to save yourself.”

Amelia laughed. “You’ve thought too much, Tiff. There’s nothing between us. Even if I were to divorce Oscar, I wouldn’t choose him either. I don’t wish to be involved with the rich for a second time. In the future, I’ll settle for a financially stable, decent-looking man. As for the rest, I won’t think too much about it.”

Tiffany quietened down. She knew Amelia hadn’t had an easy life. Despite being married into the Clintons, Oscar Clinton had no other fondness for her except for her body. A woman without her husband’s love would bound to feel empty inside no matter how much he tried to substitute it with material things.

“Tiff, I’m gonna take a quick nap. Wake me up at nine o’clock so I can go home,” Amelia instructed and laid down on the couch.

“Go sleep in the bedroom. The air-conditioner here is too strong. Careful it’ll give you a cold.”

“It’s alright. I’m quite comfortable here. Let me sleep and wake me up when it’s time will do.” Having said that, Amelia’s eyes fluttered shut and dozed off.

Tiffany shook her head resignedly, returning to the bedroom to grab a blanket to cover her. Then, she took out her laptop and started typing at an insane speed.

About an hour later, she was interrupted by a ringing phone. She looked everywhere before realizing it came from Amelia’s bag. When she went to retrieve it, it revealed that it was Oscar Clinton calling.

After a short moment of hesitation, she picked it up.

“Amelia Winters, where are you? Come back right away.” Tiffany had only just answered the phone when Oscar’s impolite voice sounded.

Frowning, she replied in an equally rude manner, “Mr. Clinton, watch your tone. Amelia’s your wife, not your slave nor your toy.”

Several seconds of silence passed before he responded, “Where’s Amelia?”

“She’s tired. Hence, she’s resting,” Tiffany said indifferently. “Mr. Clinton, I know Amelia’s in a transactional marriage with you. You fork out the money while she sells her body. But all these years, she’s been playing her role as your wife so well. Even if you don’t feel romantically for her, please treat her slightly better. She may be glamorous on the outside, but she’s a good-natured person. If you could simply be a little nicer to her, she wouldn’t have to feel so aggrieved.”

Oscar kept quiet once again.

“Mr. Clinton, if you’re not listening, then I’ll hang up now. She’ll go home after she wakes up.”

Right as Tiffany was about to hang up the call, Oscar uttered, “I’ll go pick her up now.”

“What?” Tiffany thought she was hearing things. Before she could ask, though, Oscar hung up without any clarification.

Listening to the automated beeps, Tiffany mumbled under her breath, “What the hell. How rude. If you had been Amelia’s real husband, I wouldn’t have you let off easy.”

Still displeased, she placed Amelia’s phone back into her bag.

It was half an hour later when the doorbell rang. Tiffany had originally wanted to ignore it, but the incessant ringing was giving her a headache. With no alternative, she went to get the door, unsurprisingly seeing Oscar Clinton standing on the other side.

Leaning against the doorframe, Tiffany crossed her arms against her chest with her chin raised. “What an unexpected visit, Mr. Clinton. Your presence brings light to my humble dwelling.”

Oscar stared at her coldly. “Where’s Amelia?”

Tiffany sneered. “First, why don’t you tell me, who is Amelia to you?”

Oscar furrowed his brows. He had always been at odds with Tiffany. Even though she was Amelia’s best friend, he still didn’t like her. She was like a porcupine. As soon as she opened her mouth, pricks would start flying at others.

“Where’s Amelia?” he repeated.

Tiffany sneered once more. “You’ve yet to answer me, Mr. Clinton. In your heart, what exactly is Amelia to you?”

“My wife. Does that suffice?” Oscar answered in annoyance.

“Oh, I see. So you do know she’s your wife. Earlier on the phone, I assumed she was your slave or your toy instead,” Tiffany ridiculed.