Chapter 2 - Once Chosen, Now Forgotten

Amelia’s POV

“Victoria is lying to you!” I cried, using up what little strength I had left.

My fiancé—the man I once believed would protect me—had sacrificed me in the name of what he called justice.

But I knew Victoria too well. She wasn’t fragile and innocent. She had mastered her mother’s art of manipulation. If she got her way now, I would never know peace again.

This was my last chance to save my marriage.

“I saw Victoria at a bar just a few days ago—please, Tristan, believe me, I—”

But Victoria’s sobs burst through the air like sirens. “I… I’m sorry…” she whimpered, crumbling as if my words had physically wounded her.

“Enough!”

Tristan’s voice cut through the room like a blade. It jolted me.

He turned on me, eyes blazing with fury. “Amelia, why can’t you just let it go?”

Then, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something precious, something fragile.

The sight of them together sent my world spinning. A nauseating ache spread through my chest, tightening with every second.

I stood there, stiff and silent, as memories crashed into me.

I had loved Tristan for years. Secretly.

He was one of the most influential men in Wexton. With wealth and power. I’d already admired him before we met.

The media praised his achievements as nearly rivaling those of his uncle, Rowan Lancaster—the true power behind the Lancaster family.

When our families arranged the engagement all those years ago, I remember the tension in the air. There were two daughters—me and Victoria. 

But Tristan had chosen me. Without hesitation. 

That moment had changed something inside me. For the first time, I had been chosen—truly chosen. Not as the leftover, not the second-best. He looked at both of us and said my name.

It was the first time anyone had ever done that for me.

That was the beginning of my quiet, unwavering love. I had believed that Tristan would be different from the cold, distant world I had grown up in. That he would be my safe place.

But now, he was glaring at me like I was the villain—while cradling the girl who had spent her life taking things that were meant to be mine.

My voice trembled. "I’ve done nothing but tell the truth, Tristan."

Tristan’s features softened, but only slightly. "Amelia, don’t be like this. Try to be more generous."

I wanted to laugh. Loud and bitter. Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek.

Victoria still nestled in the safety of his arms. "It’s all my fault," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"I knew you were supposed to be my brother-in-law. I knew it was wrong, but—I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop my feelings…" Her voice broke with a shuddering breath, followed by a delicate cough.

Of course.

The weak, trembling act. Enough to deceive everyone.

I even had no idea when she had started falling for my fiancé. 

Suddenly, the doors burst open and my stepmother rushed in, her arms immediately encircling Victoria.

"Oh, sweetheart, are you alright?" she cried, her voice a dramatic tremble. The two of them looked like the final act of a tragic play, tears streaming, gasps echoing through the room.

"You hypocrite!" she spat, her voice trembling with fury. "Victoria is running out of time, and you're still slandering her? You... why couldn't it have been you who died?"

Victoria clutched Tristan’s hand, eyes glassy with tears. "I wish… I wish I hadn’t fallen for you," she whispered. "I never meant to. I regret it so much."

Tristan’s jaw tightened. He looked at her—really looked—and something shifted in his eyes. Something soft. Dangerous.

He squeezed her hand gently, his voice low and solemn. "Your dream will come true."

Then he turned to me.

"Why can’t you think of your sister for once?"

My breath caught. That sentence echoed in my mind, bouncing off every wound I thought had already scarred over.

Think of her?

Has anyone ever thought of me?

Not since my stepmother married my father and replaced my mother’s warmth with ice.

When her and my father had Victoria, everything really went downhill. She was their favorite. She stole all my most precious belongings as a child and never once apologized.

I remembered the day she took my mother’s necklace—the only thing I had left of her. It meant the world to me.

Victoria had admired it for a moment before casually declaring, "It suits me so much better, don’t you think?"

I’d clutched it in my hands, refusing to let go.

But then her mother disappeared into my father's office, using that polished, persuasive tone she always reserved for him.

It didn’t take long—minutes later, he came out and told me to hand the necklace over to Victoria.

And so Victoria kept it.

After that, my music box, my backpack… everything that she liked was taken away from me.

Only left me with a sentence, "Daddy said I could have it."

And now?

Even my fiancé?

I looked at Tristan, my eyes burning. "What about me?" I whispered, the words torn from somewhere deep and hollow.

He didn’t flinch. His expression was unreadable.

"You’re still going to be my wife once Victoria passes," he said flatly. "I’m just letting her sit in that spot for a little while. It’s her final wish. This is already decided."

Like I was a piece of property to be rescheduled.

The pain cut deeper than I could have imagined. I had been reduced to a backup plan. A placeholder. A future convenience. Not a person. Not a partner.

I watched as he turned away from me, his focus returning to Victoria.

He wiped her tears gently, his fingers brushing her cheek with infuriating tenderness.

Something about their closeness didn’t sit right. 

The way she leaned into him. The way he didn’t pull away. I always thought they barely knew each other—that their interactions were limited to polite smiles at family gatherings.

So why did they seem so familiar now? Was there something more between them?

I took a shaky breath, heart pounding, and asked the one question I’d buried deep since this nightmare began:

"When our families arranged the marriage… and you chose me—did you actually want to marry me?"