An Ocean Between Hearts

By six, Amelia had whipped up a six-dish dinner with soup—Chad Felton's favorites, of course. By seven, she'd prepped his bath, complete with rose petals and candles. By eight, his slippers were perfectly lined up by the door. At nine, Chad finally strolled in. Amelia stepped up, taking his suit jacket. "Eat first or bathe?" she asked, setting the slippers in front of him and hanging the jacket. "Bathe," he muttered, eyes glued to his phone. Chapter 1 By six, Amelia had whipped up a six-dish dinner with soup—Chad Felton's favorites, of course. By seven, she'd prepped his bath, complete with rose petals and candles. By eight, his slippers were perfectly lined up by the door. At nine, Chad finally strolled in. Amelia stepped up, taking his suit jacket. "Eat first or bathe?" she asked, setting the slippers in front of him and hanging the jacket. "Bathe," he muttered, eyes glued to his phone. Thirty minutes later, he came out in his robe, towel in hand. Amelia passed him his pajamas without a word and rushed to reheat the dinner she'd kept waiting. Chad, used to her quiet service, barely looked her way. In a good mood tonight, he stayed fixated on his phone, a faint smile playing on his lips as he typed. Amelia's eyes flicked to his screen, catching the name 'Irina.' Her expression wavered for a split second, but she quickly looked away and kept moving. Her own phone buzzed. It was Miranda. With a sigh, she picked up. "Amelia, are you really divorcing Chad?" She stared out the window, where a single night-blooming flower glowed softly under the lamplight. After a pause, she answered, "You've always known why I stayed. That contract's done now. Irina's back, divorced, and Chad... he doesn't need me anymore." Miranda let out a heavy sigh, her voice laced with regret. "You've been through so much these past years. I hoped your dedication would win his heart, but... never mind. With Irina back, I guess I don't have to worry about him anymore. Five years ago, you gave up studying abroad for Chad. If you're still interested, I can help set it up again." Amelia's gaze stayed on the flower as it fully bloomed, her thoughts quiet. Five years of her life—gone. It was time to move on. "Thanks," she said. "Please make the arrangements. I'm ready to leave." By the time the call ended, the flower outside had already started to wilt—briefly beautiful, now fading fast. Just like her five years with Chad. Her family had struggled financially, but the Feltons' support had given her the chance to stay in school and excel, eventually earning the school's only foreign exchange scholarship. Grateful, she'd gone to the Felton estate to thank them in person—a gesture most would've skipped. Miranda had planned to politely dismiss her, but after a long, thoughtful look, she'd said something that changed everything. "If you really want to repay us, I have a favor to ask." From Miranda, Amelia learned the tangled story of Chad and Irina. Chad was the golden boy, Irina the golden girl—both from prestigious families, childhood friends who grew up side by side. Everyone knew Chad adored her. But when Irina said she wanted a love that grew slowly and deeply, he chose to quietly support her from afar. After college, Chad decided it was finally time to confess. But before he could, Irina introduced her new boyfriend and announced she was leaving Kaldora with him. Stunned, Chad raced to the airport that night, only to crash his car on the way. By the time he woke up after surgery, Irina was already married abroad. The once-proud Chad fell apart, shutting himself away and drowning in alcohol. Miranda, desperate to pull him out of his spiral, saw an opportunity when Amelia showed up to express her gratitude. She asked Amelia for a favor: help Chad move on. In exchange for the Feltons' continued support, Amelia gave up her chance to study abroad and signed a five-year contract with Miranda. At a formal event, Amelia staged a meeting with Chad, acting as though she'd fallen for him at first sight. She pursued him openly, earning a reputation as the woman hopelessly in love with Chad. Over time, Chad grew used to having her around, but his heart stayed cold. One night, during a yacht party with his closest friends, they made a bet: whoever's date could retrieve a ring tossed into the sea would win rights to a prized piece of land in Averville. Chad, exhausted after days of failed negotiations, saw his chance. While the others balked at the stormy waves, Amelia didn't hesitate—she dove straight in. For the first time, Chad lost his cool. When they pulled Amelia from the water, he wrapped her in his arms, his voice shaking. "Amelia, let's get married. I'll try to love you." Only later did she find out his sudden proposal wasn't about her—it was triggered by a social media post. Irina had shared a picture of herself and her husband under the northern lights that same night. Still, Amelia stuck to her role, determined to see the contract through. She cooked his favorite meals, ran the house like clockwork, and even spent six months planning a trip to a mountaintop where they could watch shooting stars—fulfilling his unfulfilled childhood birthday wish. He never showed up. Chad had been with Irina that night. By then, Irina's marriage was falling apart, and Chad began flying out weekly to deliver secret gifts to cheer her up—never once telling her they were from him. When Irina moved back to Kaldora, Chad couldn't stay away. Racing to see her, he drove recklessly and crashed his car. Amelia stayed by his side through three sleepless days, only to hear him call Irina's name over and over—999 times in his unconscious state. That was the moment she knew she'd never be able to replace Irina in his heart. Now, with the contract ending and Irina divorced and back in Kaldora, Chad had everything he wanted. It was time for Amelia to walk away. From here, they could both start over. Chapter 2 "Who were you talking to?" Chad's voice cut through the quiet. Still standing in the kitchen, Amelia snapped back to reality. "No one," she said evenly. That night, with Chad's soft breathing beside her, Amelia lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Sleep felt impossibly far away. ... The next morning, Chad frowned at the breakfast spread. "You know I don't eat this kind of stuff in the morning. Why'd you make it?" Amelia kept her eyes on her plate, cutting into a piece of steak. "It's all we've got left in the fridge." That was a lie. The fridge was full. She'd made this on purpose, prepping herself for the kind of food she'd be eating after she left. Chad didn't push it. Instead, he set his phone on the table, glancing at it every few seconds like he was waiting for something—or someone. When it buzzed, he grabbed it, his face lighting up with a rare smile. She didn't need to guess who it was. Amelia watched him quietly for a moment, then pulled out the divorce papers. She'd been waiting for this day since she signed the contract. Freedom was so close, she could taste it. "Chad, let's get a divorce," she said, her voice steady, like she was asking about the weather. "Mm," he muttered, not looking up, his thumbs flying over his phone. Yeah, she'd expected that. Five years of this—his indifference had been a constant. And now, with Irina back? She didn't even rate as a distraction. She slid the papers across the table, along with a pen, tapping the signature line. "Sign here." "Mm." He grabbed the pen and scribbled his name, still glued to his phone. Amelia tucked the papers away. "I'll be out after the one-month cooling-off period." "Mm." He stood, already moving toward the door like she wasn't even there. That was it. She couldn't hold back anymore. "Chad, do you even know what I just said?" He stopped, turning with a blank look. "Uh, something about donating supplies to the orphanage? That's what I just signed, right? You mentioned it last week." Amelia let out a bitter laugh. The donation contract? That was last month. Of course, he hadn't listened. He never did. But it didn't matter. Not anymore. She was done. Go ahead, Chad. Be with Irina. Forcing a small, practiced smile, she said, "It's nothing." ... That afternoon, Amelia followed the truck carrying the donated supplies to the orphanage. After helping unload everything, she went to the office of Ms. Doherty, the head of the orphanage. "I'm leaving to study abroad," she said. Ms. Doherty's face lit up. Amelia had always been one of the brightest art students, and giving up her scholarship all those years ago had been a regret Ms. Doherty never let go of. "That's amazing, Amelia!" Ms. Doherty squeezed her hand, beaming, but her smile faded. "But won't this mean you and Chad will be apart? Long-distance relationships are so tough." Amelia glanced out the window at the kids playing outside, her expression steady. "It's not long-distance. Chad and I are divorced." Ms. Doherty froze, then let out a heavy sigh. "I had a feeling this would happen. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have gone all these years without coming here even once. It's better this way." She pulled Amelia into a warm hug, patting her back gently. Amelia smiled faintly, leaning into the embrace. Yeah, it really was better this way. Chapter 3 After getting back from the orphanage, Amelia went straight upstairs to her walk-in closet and started packing. It hit her then—she barely owned any clothes. Most of what she had were the outfits Miranda gave her when she first married into the family. In five years, Chad hadn't bought her a single thing. Not once. When her clothes were packed, Amelia turned her attention to the gifts she'd given Chad over the years. Carefully chosen birthday presents, each one meant to make him happy—he hadn't even looked at them. They'd sat in a dusty corner, forgotten. She sold them all for scrap. Watching the truck pull away, Amelia felt a strange sense of relief. She turned to head back to the villa when a car horn blared behind her. A sleek Maybach pulled up, and out stepped Yara, Chad's younger sister, in a striking red dress. Yara's eyes flicked to the departing scrap truck, then back to Amelia with a sneer. "Seriously? Selling scrap? So typical of someone from a small-time family." Amelia didn't bite. She turned to leave without a word. Yara's smirk twisted into anger as she stormed forward and grabbed Amelia's arm. "Amelia!" For years, Amelia had been nothing but quiet and compliant, always trying to stay on everyone's good side. But this cold indifference? It sent Yara over the edge. "Are you deaf?" Yara snapped, her voice sharp with fury. "I'm talking to you!" Amelia turned, pried Yara's hand off her arm, and shot her a look that screamed, 'Enough already.' Yara had hated her from day one, acting like Amelia's background made her unworthy of marrying into the Felton family. For five years, Yara had done everything to make Amelia's life harder—dumping out breakfasts, stomping on freshly washed clothes, you name it. But now? Amelia was done playing nice. Yara looked like she was about to snap again, but then her expression shifted. A smug, nasty smile crept across her face. "Selling scrap suits you," she sneered. "Oh, but you probably don't know yet—Chad's real love is back. Guess the outsider's finally getting kicked out." Before Amelia could respond, another woman stepped out of the car. She wore a simple white dress, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Long hair framed her porcelain skin, and her understated look—no jewelry, no fancy extras—only made her elegance stand out more. It was Amelia's first time seeing Irina. Five years of a broken marriage, five years of waiting for something that never came—none of it had touched this woman. No wonder Chad could never let her go. Irina walked over, gently tugging on Yara's arm. Her voice was soft. "Yara, don't say that. She's still your sister-in-law." Yara scoffed. "Sister-in-law? Please. Irina, I told you in the car—Chad's always loved you. He's been thinking about you for years, flying out every week just to see you. Those gifts? All from him. How can you still not see it?" Yara spun back toward Amelia and barked, "What are you standing there for? Go bring in Irina's luggage! Chad already said she's staying here." Amelia's eyes flicked to the suitcases, but she didn't say a word. She walked past them and headed inside. Yara stomped her foot, glaring after her. Eventually, the driver hauled the luggage inside. Yara, still fuming, was about to storm after Amelia when Chad walked in, his pace quick. His shoulders relaxed the second he spotted Irina sitting on the couch. With a glance toward Amelia, he said, "Irina's house hasn't been lived in for years. It needs renovations, so she'll stay here for a few days." Amelia stayed silent. The tension in the room thickened until Irina stood, biting her lip. "Chad, maybe I should go. This is your home, and... your wife doesn't seem too thrilled about me being here." Chad quickly stopped her. "There's no need for that. Amelia's always been generous. She won't mind something so small." Amelia watched him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You're right. I wouldn't get upset over something so trivial. Stay as long as you like." Why not? This house would belong to Irina eventually anyway. Chapter 4 Afraid Irina might change her mind and leave, Chad immediately ordered the servants to move her luggage into the largest guest room. Yara turned to Amelia with a smug sneer. "What are you standing there for? Go make dinner. Oh, and keep it mild—Irina can't handle spicy food." In this house, even with servants around, it was always Amelia doing the cooking. Chad was impossibly picky, his standards so high that even Michelin-starred chefs failed to impress him. Somehow, he tolerated Amelia's cooking, though he barely ate more than a few bites. Yara would sometimes join but mostly just complained about the food. This time, Amelia didn't move. She shook her head lightly and said something that froze everyone in place. "I can't." Chad turned to her, frowning. In all the years he'd known her, she had never refused a single thing his family asked. Not once. Before he could say anything, Irina's eyes filled with tears. She bit her lip and looked down, her voice trembling. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have come here. I'm just an outsider—it's not fair to make Amelia cook for me." She turned as if to head upstairs, but Chad grabbed her arm. "This isn't about you," he said, his tone firm. He turned back to Amelia, his voice colder now. "You said you weren't upset. So, what's this?" Amelia raised her hand, her fingers wrapped in bandages. Her voice stayed calm. "I'm hurt. I can't touch water for a while." In reality, her hands were fine. But the contract was over, and she had no intention of wasting her energy on Chad or his family anymore. The bandages were an easy way out. The room sank into an awkward silence. Amelia had always handled the chores, so the servants usually left when their shifts ended. Now, with no one to cook, the Feltons were stuck. Even calling the staff back would take too long. Yara scowled. "If you were hurt, why didn't you say something earlier? Were you planning to let us starve?" She stepped forward, ready to snap, but Irina gently held her back. "Yara, don't be like that," she said softly. Irina turned to Chad, her tone soft. "Chad, remember that restaurant by our high school? The one we used to go to after evening classes? How about we eat there tonight?" Chad's irritation melted away instantly. "Yeah, I'll take you." As they headed out, they brought Amelia along. On the drive, Chad kept the conversation lively with Irina and Yara in the backseat. They dove into stories about their high school days, their laughter filling the car. Irina's smile brightened as the memories poured out, and even Yara joined in, cracking jokes here and there. In the middle of it all, Irina suddenly turned to Amelia, who sat quietly in the front seat. Flashing a kind smile, she said, "Amelia, sorry about that. We're not ignoring you—it's just... you weren't part of those memories." 'Not just those memories, ' Amelia thought. 'I won't be part of their future, either.' "Mm," she murmured softly, closing her eyes as she leaned back. Chad glanced at Amelia, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Something about her felt... different. When they got to the restaurant, Amelia quietly excused herself to use the restroom. She splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, wavy hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her pale skin seemed even paler under the harsh lights. But no amount of light could hide the exhaustion etched into her features. Five years of marriage had left Irina radiant and full of life. For Amelia, it had done the opposite. "Just a little longer," she told herself. Soon, she'd be free. When she returned to the private dining room, the others were already ordering. "The soup should be a clear broth. Irina doesn't eat meat, so add extra vegetables—no cilantro," Chad said, glancing over the menu. He still remembered Irina's preferences perfectly, even after all these years. Then, almost like an afterthought, he turned to Amelia. "Amelia, is there anything you don't eat?" It was the first time he'd ever asked in five years. Amelia sat calmly across the table, wiping her plate and utensils with a napkin. "Anything's fine, as long as it's not seafood." Throughout the meal, Chad barely touched his food, his attention fixed on Irina. He kept adding dishes to her plate, making sure she had everything she liked. Midway through, the peaceful atmosphere shattered as an argument broke out at the next table. Voices escalated into shouts, and then fists started flying. Nearby patrons tried to step in, but one of the men, clearly losing control, grabbed a steaming bowl of soup and hurled it at his opponent. The target ducked just in time, and the soup went flying—straight toward Chad's table. Amid the chaos and panicked screams, Chad acted instantly, pulling Irina into his arms to shield her. Amelia, caught completely off guard, had no time to react. She could only watch as the scalding soup hurtled toward her. Chapter 5 "Ah!" The soup drenched Amelia, the boiling liquid searing her skin. Her arms turned bright red as blisters began forming almost instantly. The pain was excruciating. She couldn't even find her voice to cry out. "Amelia!" Chad released Irina and rushed to her, his face twisting with panic—the kind of panic Amelia had never seen from him before. "Does it hurt? I'll take you to the hospital!" Amelia lifted her trembling gaze to him, her whole body shaking from the pain. She wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. "Oh my God, Irina, look how badly you're hurt!" Yara shrieked. Chad's focus snapped back to Irina. He rushed to her side, his panic visibly escalating, only to find a few drops of hot oil on her arm. To Chad, the scene looked "devastating." Irina gently pulled her arm back, tears brimming in her eyes as she shook her head. "I'm fine. Amelia seems worse—take her to the hospital first." Yara stomped her foot. "What do you mean you're fine? You've been pampered your whole life! A scratch leaves you crying for days. Chad, what are you waiting for? Take Irina to the hospital!" She jabbed a finger at the quarreling diners. "Are you insane? If you're going to fight, do it outside! Look at what you've done—you've hurt Irina! My brother will not let this slide!" Irina's soft whimpers started breaking through, though she still insisted, "I'll be okay, Chad. Really. Amelia's hurt worse—you should check on her." Her words might have been selfless, but her frail, teary demeanor hit Chad like a freight train. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the exit. At the door, he paused, glancing back briefly at Amelia, who sat trembling in pain. "Irina's always been delicate, and she's afraid of pain," he said apologetically. "The hospital's not far. You can grab a cab and meet us there." Then he disappeared with Irina in his arms. For a long moment, Amelia sat frozen in disbelief, her skin on fire from the burns. Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to focus through the agony. A server rushed over, clearly shaken, and apologized profusely while helping to treat her wounds with a first aid kit. After taking some painkillers, the worst of the agony dulled to a manageable throb. Borrowing a change of clothes from the restaurant staff, Amelia dressed carefully before stepping outside to hail a cab to the hospital. ... At the hospital, the doctor carefully tended to her burns, pressing a cotton swab to the blisters to drain them. "Apply this medication daily," he instructed, "and it should heal without scarring." Amelia clenched her eyes shut, biting back the pain as he worked. Nearby, two nurses passed by, their conversation carrying through the quiet hallway. "Mr. Felton really dotes on Ms. Baxter," one said. "A few drops of hot oil, and he booked an entire floor, calling in every dermatologist for a consultation." "Right?" the other replied with a soft laugh. "Her injury was so minor it would've healed on its own. If only I could find a man that attentive!" "Keep dreaming," the first nurse joked. "A man like that? One in a million." One in a million. Amelia let out a faint smile. A man who abandoned his severely injured wife to coddle someone with a few drops of oil? He truly was one of a kind. Once her burns were treated and bandaged, she thanked the doctor and walked out of the hospital into the dark night. Alone. The second Amelia walked out of the hospital, her phone buzzed. Ding! An email. It was from the art academy she'd applied to—she got in. Oh, and by the way, they wanted an original piece for enrollment. After five years, she was finally picking up a paintbrush again. She bought some fresh supplies and, instead of heading back to the Felton mansion, she drove straight to Moonridge Peak. The view was straight-up stunning—calm lakes tucked between rolling hills, their glassy surfaces mirroring the mountains like nature showing off. It wasn't just peaceful; it felt like hitting the reset button. Amelia let out a deep breath, and for the first time in years, the weight of everything just... disappeared. All that was left was a long-lost sense of freedom. She let her brush hit the canvas, and the scenery practically painted itself. No noise, no interruptions—just the wind and the birds calling out like they got the memo about peace. Three days flew by in this little bubble of quiet. When she finally climbed down to mail off the painting, she turned her phone back on. Cue the avalanche—missed calls and texts, all from Chad. This was new. She used to be the one doing all the calling and texting, always getting his voicemail or, worse, radio silence. The guy barely cared enough to return a missed call. While she stared at her screen, still processing, Yara's name lit up. The second Amelia answered, Yara's shrill voice exploded. "Amelia! Where the hell have you been? Chad's losing his mind looking for you! "Don't think this little disappearing act will make him care. Keep dreaming! The only 'lady' of my family is Irina!" Before Amelia could even get a word in, Yara hung up. She blinked, frowning. Wait... Chad was frantically looking for her? That couldn't be right. Her eyes drifted to the 108 missed calls. Okay, maybe it was right. Chapter 6 Still trying to piece everything together, Amelia pulled into the driveway and stepped out, sketch board in hand. The second her feet hit the ground, the villa's staff practically mobbed her. Their faces screamed relief, and a few looked like they'd been one bad day away from crying. "You're finally back! The house has been chaos without you. Mr. Felton hasn't liked anything we've done—he's been impossible!" Ah. There it was. This wasn't about her. Chad didn't care where she'd been; he just couldn't function without his built-in caretaker. Too bad for him. He'd better get used to it because soon, she'd be out of his life for good. Amelia gave them a polite smile and headed inside. The villa was dark, not even a lamp on. Chad was sitting alone on the couch, moonlight cutting across his face and throwing half of it into shadow. It made him look as unreadable as ever. When he heard her footsteps, his eyes snapped to hers, lingering for what felt like forever. His voice broke the silence, low and sharp. "Where have you been the last few days?" Amelia shrugged off her coat, her tone as flat as her mood. "Up in the mountains. Sketching." Chad's brows pinched. "Since when are you into painting?" She'd always been good at art. If it weren't for her whole 'sacrificing-my-dreams-for-you phase', she'd have been abroad, living her dream as an artist. But explaining that to Chad? Pointless. She grabbed a glass of water, took a sip, and replied casually, "I just felt like it." Chad pressed his fingers to his temple, his voice softening like he was trying to reason with a stubborn child. "About the soup thing—I didn't leave you on purpose. Irina's always been... delicate. She cries over the tiniest scratch. We grew up together, so I'm used to taking care of her. That's why I took her to the hospital first. "Besides, you didn't say anything at the time, so why make a fuss and leave? Irina's moved out now that her place is ready. Don't blow this out of proportion over something so minor." His tone carried just enough blame to make it clear—he thought this was her fault. Not just for leaving, but for somehow making Irina move out early, too. But Amelia didn't care anymore. She just nodded, set her glass down, and headed for the stairs. "Amelia!" Chad called after her. She stopped and turned, watching as he stood from the couch. "I'm hungry. Make me some pasta." Without a word, Amelia raised her bandaged hand. "Did you forget? My hand's injured too." Chad froze, clearly not expecting that. Not that she stuck around to see his reaction. She turned and walked upstairs without a second glance. ... The next morning, Amelia stepped out of her room and was met with something shiny and gaudy shoved in her face. She blinked and looked up to see Chad standing there, looking a little... awkward. He cleared his throat. "About the soup incident... I didn't check on you because I was busy taking care of Irina. This is to make up for it." Amelia's eyes flicked to the jewelry, her expression shifting ever so slightly. Five years. In all that time, Chad had never given her a gift—not once. And now, this wasn't even a real gift. It was compensation. A shiny bribe for the time he spent doting on Irina instead of even pretending to care about her. Her thoughts wandered to the pile of perfectly curated gifts she'd seen in Chad's study—every single one meant for Irina. Bitterness rose in her chest, sharp and familiar, but she swallowed it back down. She'd never expected anything from him before. She definitely wasn't starting now. Chad misread her hesitation entirely. "If you don't like it..." he started. "I've been busy with Irina's... matters. I asked Leon to grab the most expensive piece at the auction. If it's not your style, then—" Leon. His assistant. Of course. Before he could finish, Yara's voice cut through the room. "Irina! What did I tell you? Chad adores you! You never should've moved out. But even if you did, you should visit more often!" Amelia turned, just in time to see Yara dragging Irina into the room. Then Yara's eyes locked on the jewelry box in Chad's hands, and her entire face lit up. "Oh my God, Chad! Irina just said how much she loved this set, and you actually got it for her!" She turned to Irina, practically vibrating with envy. Irina flushed, her cheeks turning the color of rose quartz as she ducked her head in shy embarrassment. Chad froze. For a split second, something like hesitation flickered in his eyes. Without missing a beat, Amelia took the jewelry box from Chad and handed it to Irina. "Since it's for you, then take it," she said, her voice calm. The decision Chad couldn't make? She'd made it for him. For the first time, Chad didn't look at Irina. His gaze stayed on Amelia instead. There was something about the way she carried herself now—graceful, unbothered. It threw him off. She wasn't the same Amelia anymore, but he couldn't quite figure out how. Chapter 7 A week later, the cooling-off period for the divorce was finally over. Amelia could officially leave. She started packing. Midway through, Leon showed up holding a couture gown, saying it was from Chad. Apparently, Chad wanted her to attend a banquet at the family estate. Amelia stared at the dress, barely holding back a laugh. Their marriage was basically over—legally done. And yet Chad still thought she'd play the role of his wife. She was about to say no but paused, thinking of Miranda. The woman had shown her kindness, and Amelia still needed to grab a few documents for her upcoming trip. After a moment of deliberation, she slipped on the gown and headed to the banquet. ... The grand banquet hall sparkled, alive with chatter and clinking glasses. The scent of wine and expensive perfumes filled the air. At the center of it all stood Irina, soaking up the adoration of a circle of fawning socialites. Every woman's eyes seemed glued to the emerald necklace resting on her collarbone, shimmering under the lights. "Irina, Chad is so devoted to you," one gushed. "Totally! That necklace—wasn't it auctioned off at Sotheby's? Global limited edition, symbolizing a love as rare as it is. Turns out Chad was the mystery buyer! Felton romance goals, right?" "It's insane how he's still hung up on you after all these years. I mean, back in school, he was always waiting to pick you up. All those jelly cups and chocolates in your desk? That was him! And remember when you two fought, and he was a wreck? Asking everyone how to fix it, bloodshot eyes and all, like he hadn't slept for days?" Another chimed in, "Exactly! No one could ever love you like Chad does. He was heartbroken when you married someone else. And when he found out you were miserable abroad? He flew out every week to see you, secretly showering you with gifts to make you smile. "Now that you're divorced, and it's so obvious he doesn't even care about his current wife, why don't you two just get back together?" "Yeah! Get back together! Get back together!" The chorus grew louder, a mix of excitement and champagne-fueled drama. ... Amelia stood in a quiet corner, unnoticed and detached, her eyes fixed on the scene. She listened, calm and unblinking, as the room celebrated her husband's devotion to someone else. "Amelia." The voice yanked her back to reality. She turned, spotting Miranda. Her first instinct was to call her by name, but she pivoted mid-sentence. "Madam Miranda," she said, all formal-like. Miranda sighed and handed Amelia a stack of documents. "Everything's ready for your trip. Classes start early, so I booked your flight—it leaves in three hours. Need anything else?" Amelia stared at the papers, feeling relieved. Freedom—like, actual freedom—was so close she could almost taste it. After a deep breath, she shoved the papers into her bag and shook her head. "Thanks for setting this up. Really. I mean it." Then she hesitated, her voice dipping as she added, "One thing. If Chad ever comes asking about me... just tell him you don't know." Because, honestly, they were better as strangers. Miranda's eyebrow shot up. "Wait. He doesn't know you're leaving?" What was she supposed to say? Should she confess that her whole entrance into his life had been, well, calculated? That the last five years of playing the perfect wife weren't about love but some twisted sense of duty? Or that Miranda herself had recruited her to help Chad get over Irina? Oh, and now she was filing for divorce, skipping the country, and disappearing for good? Yeah, hard pass. And honestly, what would it change? Irina was back, and Chad? He wouldn't care. Heck, he might not even notice. Amelia smiled. "No need. I just want to leave quietly and avoid more drama." "What do you mean, leaving?" The deep voice cut through the air, and Amelia froze. Turning, she found herself locked in Chad's piercing gaze. Her heart did this awkward little stutter as she scrambled for a response, but the words stuck in her throat. Did he hear everything? Some of it? Anything? Luckily, Miranda swooped. "It's nothing," she said smoothly, redirecting. "What brings you here?" Chad didn't press further. His attention drifted to the cake on the table instead. "Mom, it's time for you to cut the cake." Miranda sighed and waved him off. "I'm not feeling well. You all handle it." She gestured for the staff to help her upstairs, exiting stage left with zero fanfare. And then it was just Amelia and Chad. He held out a hand. "Come on, let's go cut the cake." Amelia shook her head, raising her bandaged hand. "Can't. Injured, remember? Ask Irina instead." Chad's face flickered with surprise, like he couldn't process what she'd just said. Something in her tone felt off. "Why would I ask Irina?" he asked. She gave him a look. Seriously? Why? Had he forgotten the last five years? He'd ditched her for Irina more times than she could count, flying halfway across the world just to be with her. And now that she was giving him the green light, he looked... confused? Unbelievable. Her faint smile didn't waver. "Because you two get along so well. It's just cutting a cake—no big deal." Her voice was calm, but something in her tone felt final, like she was slipping out of his reach. Chad hesitated, but eventually turned and walked over to Irina. Leaning down, he whispered something in her ear. Irina's face went pink, but she nodded and looped her arm through Chad's. Together, they stepped onto the stage, their hands clasped as they cut the cake. Cue the piano. Soft and sweet, like they were at a wedding instead of a birthday party. As the night dragged on, the older crowd trickled out, leaving behind Chad and Irina's inner circle—the people who'd grown up watching their on-again, off-again saga unfold. Seeing them up there together? Oh, they ate it up. "Kiss! Kiss!" someone yelled, and the chant caught on like wildfire. "Kiss! Kiss!" "Kiss!" Irina turned the color of a ripe tomato, and even Chad looked flustered, his ears practically glowing. But while he didn't kiss her, he also didn't shut it down. Amelia? She couldn't care less. The whole thing was background noise as she checked her phone, calculating exactly when she needed to leave. With her flight in three hours, it was game over. Time to bounce. Of course, her quiet vibe got completely twisted. The crowd, naturally full of armchair psychologists, decided she must be devastated. Chapter 8 And just as she was gearing up to leave, here came Yara and her entourage, strutting over like the mean girl squad. Amelia glanced up, suddenly boxed in. Yara's grin was all venom. "Amelia, what's it like being Chad's wife all these years, only to watch him drooling over Irina?" she sneered. She didn't stop there. "I've said it before—Chad's heart was always Irina's. You were just his rebound. Honestly, you should've taken the hint and left ages ago. But no, here you are, clinging like some desperate wannabe. Pathetic." Amelia's patience was paper-thin, her mind already on her half-packed suitcase upstairs. She didn't have time for this nonsense. Turning away, she tried to leave. But Yara and her gang weren't done. "Still dreaming of your ugly-duckling-to-swan moment, huh?" "If Irina hadn't left, do you really think someone like you could call yourself Mrs. Felton?" "Know your place." "If you've got half a brain, you'll pack up and disappear from the Felton family for good." Their words were sharp, but their actions were sharper. Hands shoved her, one after another, jerking her back and forth. "Cat got your tongue? We're talking to you!" one of them snapped. When Amelia stayed quiet, refusing to bite, it only made things worse. Finally, one woman—bolder or maybe just angrier—lost it. She shoved Amelia hard. The world tilted. The deafening crash of glass breaking silenced the room. Amelia hit the towering champagne display, and the cascade of shattering flutes and spilling wine was spectacular. She landed on the ground with a sharp gasp, the mix of sparkling white wine and bright red blood turning the scene into a chaotic masterpiece. Then, all eyes locked on her. Chad, still on stage, froze. His pupils shrank. In a heartbeat, he dropped Irina's hand and rushed toward Amelia. "Amelia!" Chad knelt by Amelia, fury etched into every line of his face. He held her close. He turned to the stunned crowd. "Call the doctor," he barked. Then his eyes swept the room. "Who did this?!" Silence. No one dared to move. Chad was about to demand answers again when a bodyguard bolted into the room. "Sir, Ms. Baxter is experiencing stomach pain. She needs you immediately!" Chad's jaw tightened, but he didn't let go of Amelia. "How bad is it?" The bodyguard's urgency spiked. "She is crying, sir. She says the pain is unbearable." For a second, Chad froze. His grip on Amelia faltered as indecision clouded his face. "Amelia, I..." She didn't need to hear the rest. Pushing herself to sit up, she met his gaze. "I get it. She's always been like that—pampered and delicate. A little pain, and it's a crisis. Go ahead. You've always looked out for her." Her calmness stopped him cold. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. By then, Amelia was already on her feet, swaying slightly but steadying herself. "I'm fine," she said. "Go. Let the doctor see her first. I can handle this." Her calm indifference left him unsettled in a way he couldn't quite explain. Amelia had always been generous to a fault. But now, standing there with a fresh injury and blood staining her clothes, that same generosity felt almost too much. It was like he didn't matter to her anymore. This wasn't the Amelia he knew. She used to look at him with eyes that said he was her everything. When had that changed? Chad opened his mouth like he was about to say something groundbreaking, but nope—Irina's dramatic cries cut through the air like clockwork. He hesitated for half a second, guilt flashing across his face before he turned to Amelia. "I'll check on you later. I'll make it up to you," he said. Then, without waiting for a response, he bolted, scooping Irina up, whispering sweet nothings as he dashed off. Amelia just stood there, her lips curving into a smirk. Of course, Yara and her posse saw it differently. To them, it screamed "heartbroken girl" vibes. "Wow," Yara snorted. "Think acting all sad's gonna make my brother feel bad for you? Joke's on you—he still ditched you." "And if you had an ounce of dignity, you'd just leave already," she added. Amelia didn't waste her breath. She found a servant's room, patched herself up, changed into fresh clothes, and walked out—limping. ... Back at the villa, Amelia headed upstairs without a word, finished packing, and hauled her suitcase downstairs. She placed the signed divorce papers—yep, both signatures—right on the table. When she opened the door to leave, she nearly ran smack into Yara, who was waltzing in. "Why are you running around?" Yara huffed. "Chad told me to bring you medicine. Can you believe it? Leaving Irina to worry about you and making me hunt you down all over the place!" "I don't need it. Save it for Irina," Amelia said coolly, brushing Yara's hand aside and heading for the door. That's when Yara's eyes locked on the suitcase. Her face twisted, and she grabbed Amelia's arm. "What are you doing?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Carrying a suitcase. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving. Your brother loves Irina, and you've been dying for her to be your sister-in-law. Congrats—I'm making it easy. I divorced him. I'm done." Yara's eyes went wide. She stood there, completely frozen. Everyone knew Amelia had been head-over-heels for Chad—so how was she walking away like it was no big deal? When it finally clicked, Yara's voice shook. "Amelia, cut the act. You love Chad too much to quit like this. You practically forced your way into this marriage! This is some kind of mind game, right? Trying to make him chase you? Well, newsflash—it's not gonna work!" Amelia didn't even flinch. "If you don't believe me, check the divorce papers on the table. Or"—her voice dripped sarcasm—"is this little hand grab because you'll miss me?" Yara snatched her hand back like she'd touched fire. "Miss you? Please. I can't wait for you to leave! When you're gone, I'll light fireworks. Chad will probably throw a party, too!" Her voice cracked a little at the end, but Amelia didn't bother calling her out. "Then congratulations to you all," she said flatly, stepping outside without looking back. Yara stared after her. For the first time, a weird unease twisted in Yara's chest, panic creeping in. "Amelia!" she called out. "Where are you even going? Aren't you going to tell Chad?" Amelia paused, her suitcase dragging slightly behind her. She turned, her gaze sweeping over Yara and the villa she once called home. For five years, she'd played the role—pretending to love Chad out of gratitude, letting everyone think she was some desperate, clingy woman chasing after a man who never wanted her. Five years of giving up her dreams, sacrificing her future, and erasing who she was to pay back a debt. Five years of being the "perfect" wife—running the house, holding everything together—only to be ignored, disrespected, and completely forgotten. But now? It was over. For the first time, Amelia smiled—an honest, unguarded smile. "I'm going to live a life that's mine and mine alone." Everything behind her? It didn't matter anymore. Goodbye, Felton family. Goodbye, Chad. With a wave that felt like freedom itself, Amelia turned and strode into the moonlit night, her suitcase trailing behind her until the darkness swallowed her whole.