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Chapter 111

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Chapter 111

Third Person POV.

Richard stirred from his sleep, a faint sense of irritation tugging at the edges of his consciousness

as the insistent ring of his phone pierced through his quiet morning. With a frustrated sigh, he

forced his tired eyes open, half–expecting to find Amber nestled beside him in bed. But the empty

space beside him only served to deepen his confusion as he began to wonder where she went.

Picking up his phone from the bedside table, Richard’s frown deepened when he saw that it was Elena

calling. A sharp hiss escaped his lips as he swiftly dismissed the call, his discomfort at the mere

sight of her name evident. He had a sinking suspicion about the reason for her call, but the last

thing he wanted was to engage in any conversation with her at that moment.

He didn’t think he had the strength to deal with her problems, and he had also been avoiding her

after the scene she pulled in Italy.

“Amber?” Richard called out, the echo of his voice bouncing off the empty walls of his room. He was

hoping that she would be in the bathroom, but when he didn’t get a response after calling out her name a few more times, he realized that she wasn’t in the room.

Driven by instincts, Richard pushed aside any thoughts of putting on a shirt as he swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. With quick steps, he left his room and made his way to Amber’s room,

so he’d know if she was there or not.

On getting to her room door, he’d knock on it a few times, expecting to hear a response, but he’d get

nothing.

While he was still knocking and waiting. Jolene, a servant who had a basket of laundry in her hands. and was going her way, would catch attention, and he’d quickly stop her. “Jolene, have you seen my

wife?” he asked.

Jolene would immediately bow her head in respect to Richard before responding. “Your wife is in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, sir,” she informed him.

Richard’s eyes widened in disbelief at the revelation, a mixture of shock and concern flickering across his features. “In the kitchen? Preparing breakfast?” he echoed, wondering if Jolene had it all

wrong.

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The idea of Amber being in the kitchen was very scary to him because he knew that she was an absolutely tenible cook

“Why on earth would anyone allow her in the kitchen?” he muttered to himself while shaking his head

in disbelief.

Jolene, her expression contused, simply replied that Amber had taken it upon herself to oversee the morning meal, prompting the kitchen staff to vacate their usual position.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Richard wasted no time in rushing the stairs with haste. He didn’t know how far she had gone, but he knew that he needed to stop her so she wouldn’t end up blowing the kitchen up like she almost did at a point during their vacation.

As Richard tentatively stepped into the kitchen, his eyes fell on the sight of Amber standing behind a sizzling pan, her focus intent on the eggs she was expertly frying.

Clearing his throat to announce his presence. Richard’s gaze met Amber’s, and a warm, wild smile blossomed on her face at the sight of him.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence!” Amber chimed as she playfully nudged a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I was beginning to think you planned on sleeping through until tomorrow.”

Richard’s gaze flitted back and forth between Amber and the pan, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering in his eyes. “Breakfast, huh? That’s surprising!” he remarked.

Amber let out a giggle in response to his questioning gaze, a lightness in her tone as she explained, “I woke up feeling good today, so I thought, why not whip up something special for us?”

“I tried to make something real fancy,” she revealed with a playful twinkle in her eye, her words laced with a hint of self–deprecating humor. “But let’s just say, YouTube cooking tutorials are harder to follow than they seem,” she said, her admission accompanied by a sheepish shrug.

Richard’s brow quirked in curiosity as he glanced around the kitchen. “YouTube videos for frying eggs?” he teased.

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“Not for the eggs, silly. I initially wanted to make something grand and really nice. You know,

breakfast for a king and his queen,” Amber quipped with a playful grin. “But alas, French toast and

eggs seemed like a safer bet in the end. Sorry, my king.”

Noticing the hint of disbelief that lingered in Richard’s gaze, alongside his evident urge to laugh

at her, Amber’s grin widened into a playful challenge. “Alright, Mr. Romero, the kitchen’s off–limits

for you,” she declared with mock seriousness, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Go back up, freshen

up, and by the time you’re back, breakfast will be ready.”

With a resigned sigh and a teasing roll of his eyes, he agreed to her playful command. “Alright,

chef. I’ll leave you to your cooking.” he relented, his voice tinged with amusement as he made his

retreat from the kitchen as she had requested.

Despite the tiring task of rounding up her cooking, Amber couldn’t help but feel a spark of

excitement as she recalled the news that had greeted her that very morning. The article she had

stumbled on had set the wheels of gossip and scandal in motion, painting a vivid picture of how

messed up Kayden’s family really was.

With a wry smile playing on her lips, Amber remembered the headline that had captured her

attention–Anthony Black was arrested for assault, with a damning video of his altercation with

Antoinette making waves online.

The scandalous revelation had thrust the family into the unforgiving spotlight of public scrutiny,

setting off a chain reaction of speculation and gossip that pleased Amber very much.

The news of Marlene’s reckless behavior–her audacity to run into her and then proceed to slap her in

the face, along with the video evidence–had also made headlines, which only added to the growing problems within the Black Estate.

As she finished plating their breakfast–a simple spread of French toast, eggs, and bacon–she felt a

sense of relief and pride mingled with a strange thrill.

Carrying the plates with care to the dining area, Amber’s thoughts were interrupted by the hasty

approach of a servant who seemed to be waiting for her. A sense of urgency emanated from her demeanor

as she delivered the unexpected news of a letter addressed to her that had been mysteriously

delivered to the estate.

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she turned her attention to the unfamiliar envelope being offered to her. “Mail for me? What could this be about?” she mused aloud, her curiosity piqued by the

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The servant handed her the envelope, their expression calm and respectful. “It arrived in the morning

post, Madam, and it was addressed to you,” she explained.

Taking the envelope with anticipation and apprehension, Amber pondered who could have sent it to her. Thank you,” she murmured gratefully, dismissing the servant with a nod as she turned her focus to the

mysterious envelope in her hands.

The quietness of the dining area was shattered by the rustle of paper as Amber gingerly removed the

first contents of the mysterious envelope. A sense of intrigue mingled with trepidation as she

unfolded the letter, her eyes widening in surprise as she came face to face with the unexpected

salutation: “From Alison to Amber.”

The mere reminder of Alison’s name sent a shiver down Amber’s spine, a wave of disbelieving confusion

washing over her at the improbable sight in front of her. She wondered how it was possible that

Alison, who had been dead for nearly two weeks now, was sending her a letter.

“How is this possible?” Amber murmured to herself, her heart pounding in her chest. With trembling

hands, she proceeded to open the letter, her curiosity outweighing her shock as she delved into the

contents within. As her eyes scanned the first line of the letter, the words etched on the page

seemed to leap out at her, sending a chill down her spine.

“Amber, if you’re reading this letter, it means I’m no longer a part of this world because one has had me silenced for good. I have been murdered, and the people behind my death are people you

know very well…”

–

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