Come To Me (Amelia and Patrick)
Chapter 374

The shopkeeper looked at Amelia with a smile. Her sweet smile was contagious.

Just as Amelia was about to say goodbye to him, her cell phone suddenly rang in her pocket. She glanced at the shopkeeper and said, "Sorry, would you take the cake for me, please? I need to answer the phone."

"No problem." The shopkeeper agreed.

After freeing her hands, Amelia hurried to take out her mobile phone. When she saw Cynthia's name, her eyes jumped. She rejected it by instinct.

After thinking for a while, she put it through. "Hey, it's me. What's up?"

Out of Amelia's expectation, this time Cynthia didn't address her by her title in a hypocritical way she had. Instead, Cynthia called her name directly, "Amelia, Patrick is now at a hotel. He wants to see you. Come and pick him up."

Amelia almost blacked out. She asked blankly, "Cynthia, I don't understand what you mean..."

"You don't understand? You'll understand when you come! I've already told you the address just now. If you don't come, I promise you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" With that, Cynthia hung up the phone. Noting Amelia's pale face, the shopkeeper holding the cake couldn't help asking, "Miss Ramsay, are you okay?"

Hearing his voice, Amelia looked at the cake in his hand. This was a birthday gift carefully prepared for Patrick, and now it was such a joke. She took it over slowly and left the cake shop. There was a trash bucket near the cake shop. When Amelia passed by, she threw the cake into it without hesitation.

She got back to the car, unable to forget Cynthia's words. Amelia fretfully hit the steering wheel a few times. She didn't want to pay attention to that godd*mn man and woman who had gotten a room at the hotel, but could she really ignore them?

No! Even if she knew it would be a disaster, as long as Patrick was there, she would have to go even though she was heartbroken!

At the five-star hotel.

"Mrs. Hopper..." Patrick was almost unconscious. His body was feverish, but he wrapped himself up tightly with a quilt, minimizing the possibility of having physical contact with Cynthia.

Cynthia had already given up the idea of sleeping with Patrick, but she couldn't bear to see his hands bleeding. Many times, she had tried to approach him to stop the bleeding, only to replace herself thwarted by his murmur of "you are not her".

Feeling frustrated, Cynthia knelt on the bed and looked at him with tears welling in pain. "If you don't love her, why do you, such an excellent man, have to restrain yourself for her?"

The bell rang!

Hearing the sound from the door, Cynthia wiped tears off her face and returned to her poker face as she went to open the door for Amelia.

The door opened. Two women stood face to face, looking at each other. It was a battlefield without gunpowder or smoke.

When she saw Cynthia, who was disheveled, Amelia remained her usual noble and cold manner as if she had been mentally prepared. Uninterested in explaining, Cynthia just said, "He is inside, in my bed." "Oh." Amelia was not as shrewish as Cynthia had imagined. She nodded slightly and walked past her to Patrick.

Cynthia's expression went stiff.

With Amelia's forbearance alone, Cynthia would never be as good as her!

Stopping at the end of the bed, Amelia coldly said to Patrick, "Hey! Get up."

There was no response.

There was faint impatience in her cold gaze. Amelia shook Patrick's shoulders exposed outside the quilt with dislike, only to replace that the man was surprisingly hot.

She took a closer look at him and found that his face was unusually red. Frowning, she asked as she had her back to Cynthia, "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know!" Cynthia was in a bad mood and didn't want to explain more.

With a sharp nose, Amelia detected the smell of alcohol from Patrick very quickly. She wondered if Patrick was like that because he had drunk too much. If so, did he sleep with Cynthia? "Mrs. Hopper..." Just as Amelia was in a dilemma, she heard Patrick said softly...

Amelia bent down to listen, making sure that he was calling "Mrs. Hopper" instead of "Cynthia" or something hateful. She raised her eyebrows and said to Cynthia, "Thank you for sending this drunk man to the hotel and calling me. I'll take care of him here. Miss Cynthia, you can leave now."

Cynthia asked coldly, "I've stayed with him in the same room so late at night and got dressed like this.

On top of all this, I called you to come here. Aren't you skeptical?"

Amelia said flatly, "Cynthia, I know what kind of man he is. If he really likes you, he would have slept with you long ago. Why should he wait till now?"

It was a lie to say that Amelia was not skeptical at all. But it was a family issue that she would deal with without making it public. Why should she let Cynthia, the shameless home wrecker, to enjoy it?

To Cynthia, Amelia's composure was proof of a wife's absolute trust in her husband. Coupled with Patrick's reaction after he had been drugged, Cynthia was utterly defeated by this couple who loved each othe so much. Her only way out was to disappear forever!

Before leaving, Cynthia told her what had been hidden in her heart for so long. "Amelia, you are right. Patrick has been treating me just as his schoolmate from the very beginning. He doesn't have a desire for me. Tonight, he even hurt his hands for you. If I were you, I would never make him worried, hurt him or allow him to shed tear or blood!"

After finishing that, Cynthia left in dismay.

Hearing what she had said, doubts appeared in Amelia's cold eyes. Why did Cynthia say that? Hadn't she forced Patrick to get a room with her?

Why was it that every time a man did something

wrong, a woman had to bear the responsibility?

Looking away, she saw that Patrick's bed was stained with blood and her face suddenly changed. Following the blood, she found his bloody hands in the quilt!

"What happened?" Amelia gently checked his palms and the back of his hands, wondering where his wound had come.

"Patrick, wake up..." She patted him on the cheek, trying to ask him what had happened.

Patrick opened his bloodshot eyes in annoyance and grabbed Amelia's unruly hand. He glared at her viciously and said, "How dare you! Didn't I tell you that I don't want anyone other than her?" Amelia met his cold eyes fearlessly and said in a flat voice, "It's me."

He almost recognized who the owner of the voice was immediate. Patrick's hand on hers trembled as his dangerous eyes softened a little.

"It's you?"

"Who am I?" To avoid taking it in the wrong way, Amelia decided to induce the drunk man, who would say whatever he was asked.

Patrick frowned. He seemed to be very dissatisfied with Amelia asking such a stupid question. "Who else could you be? Of course, you're my Mrs. Hopper!"

Amelia's red lips curled up. "You're right. It's a pity that there's no reward-!"

Before she could finish her words, she was pulled to the bed skillfully by Patrick, and eager kisses fell on her lips...