Chapter 190 The Boy's Wound

Amelia smiled after she finished.

Lucian relaxed as he saw the soft curve on her lips. "Put Mark in the crib. Lily has prepared the dinner."

"Where's Claire?" Amelia asked tentatively.

"She was resting in her room earlier. She's in the dining room downstairs now," Lucian replied.

Truth be told, Amelia felt no desire to eat, but she was worried that Lily might tell Lucian that Mark was hurt because of her refusal, so she acquiesced quietly and promised to go downstairs later on to have her meal.

"Amelia, you can't be watching our son every minute of the day. If you indulge him this much, he might grow up spoiled. We're just going to be downstairs, and you're already this reluctant to leave him? Honestly, I'm getting a little jealous now," Lucian teased. He watched Amelia plant a gentle kiss on Mark's forehead. The image warmed him, like temperate sunlight touching his skin, but with it came a slight worry.

When Mark was born, Lucian and Amelia had talked about parenthood. Their son would live in comfort, but he was adamant that Mark would not be raised spoiled.

Amelia shared this sentiment. Mark would certainly come from a privileged background, but she did not want him to be conceited or entitled like the others from the same social status. Above all else, she wanted their son to grow into a responsible and upright man.

"No, my Mark won't." Amelia bent down and kissed her son tenderly.

Lucian couldn't help but poke fun at her. He moved closer to Amelia and said, "Is it my turn now, my dear wife?" His eyes gleamed with mischief.

Amelia rolled her eyes at her husband's antics, but gave in. "You are such a kid," she said, then stood on tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. It was a simple, nonchalant gesture, but Amelia's cheeks burned as she went back down on her feet.

Perhaps it was because of what had happened that afternoon

continued to speak, it would lead to an even bigger argument.

"Lucian, Mark is just a little boy. I have no idea what your wife is thinking," Claire threw in, stoking the flames of their anger.

Lucian said nothing and merely held Mark in his arms, throwing a cold look towards Amelia.

That one look, wrought with unspoken accusation, spoke more than words ever could. Suddenly, Amelia could no longer control herself and shook with anger. Lucian had no idea of the torment she had gone through. She had been punishing herself ever since the accident, and he only added salt to her wounds.

Claire smiled to herself. Tonight was her victory.

In their room, Amelia wordlessly made the bed.

Lucian had never reproached her, and the image of his furious glare was still fresh in her mind, bringing another wave of sadness over her. When she turned around, she found him staring at her.

She turned her gaze away from him.

She didn't know what that look meant, and she had already had enough of fighting. If he threw harsh words at her again, she might break.

"Amelia, I'm sorry..." Lucian said softly.

I'm sorry? Amelia was taken aback at his words.

He was apologizing, but her heart remained closed from pain. "You're Mark's father. Of course you would feel angry," she said in a flat voice.

She understood why Lucian got mad, and even she agreed that he had the right to be, but Amelia was in too much pain to be forgiving.

Walking up behind her, Lucian put his arms around her waist and held her close. "Tell me whatever you want to say. I'll listen to all of it," he said softly.

His warm breath brushed her neck and her skin tingled from the sensation. She pushed Lucian away and said, "I have nothing else to say."

"You must be thinking that I have changed since Claire moved in," he said.

"I didn't say anything. You did," Amelia answered back.