Chapter 22

The Wellington estate was alive with hustle and bustle as the staff hurried to get ready for the upcoming weekend gala—a charity event orchestrated by Catherine to cement her status as the future Mrs. Wellington. Ronald had insisted on overseeing every detail, though his thoughts were scattered, flitting between Catherine’s expanding belly and the brewing storm within his family.

Amelia, for her part, had her own conflicts to confront. She had spent the morning sequestered in her study, immersed in the files Jake had given her—information regarding the Wellington estate’s shares, board members, and the clandestine power struggles that coursed like veins through the empire’s shiny exterior.

Melissa walked into the study with a tray of tea and biscuits, placing it down with an understanding smile. “You’ve been at this all morning,” she teased lightly. “Even the mightiest warriors need to refuel.”

Amelia smiled weakly. “I’ll take a break soon, Melissa. I’m just trying to piece all this together.”

Melissa's expression softened as she pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “You’ve endured so much, Amelia. Perhaps it’s time to stop shouldering everything alone.”

Amelia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t. Not with Beatrice and Catherine scheming at every turn. And Ronald...” She trailed off, her fingers instinctively brushing against her belly.

Melissa reached out, placing a soothing hand on hers. “You possess more strength than you realize, dear. But remember—you’re not in this by yourself.”

As if in response, Jake entered the room, his presence filling the space with a quiet authority. He held a tablet in one hand, his expression serious.

“Amelia,” he started, glancing at Melissa before directing his attention to her. “We need to discuss something.”

Melissa took the cue and stood to leave, but not before giving Jake a significant look. “Look after her,” she said gently, then exited the room.

Jake waited for the door to click shut before pulling up a chair next to Amelia. “I’ve been investigating the family’s financial activities and connections,” he said, pushing the tablet toward her. “You need to see this.”

Amelia frowned as she looked over the screen. “What is this about?”

“It’s a record of all the recent transactions through Wellington Holdings,” Jake explained. “Catherine and Beatrice have been diverting funds into a private account under a shell corporation. They’re organizing something significant.”

Amelia felt a knot form in her stomach. “What are they planning?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Jake confessed, his jaw tightening. “But it doesn’t bode well. With the fundraiser tomorrow, it provides the perfect opportunity for them to make their move.”

Amelia pushed the tablet away, her heart racing. “This is overwhelming, Jake. How can I possibly counter them when they’ve already taken so much from me?”

Jake reached out, placing his hand over hers. “You don’t have to face this fight alone. We will handle this together.”

She searched his eyes for reassurance. “What if I don’t succeed?”

“You will prevail,” he said resolutely. “Because you’re standing up for more than just yourself now.”

The grand ballroom was a display of extravagance, with crystal chandeliers illuminating the polished marble floors with a warm glow. Guests adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits mingled, their discussions merging into a melodious hum.

Catherine stood by the entrance, her hand resting on her prominent belly as she welcomed each guest with a rehearsed smile. Ronald hovered beside her, his expression inscrutable as he scanned the crowd.

Amelia entered with Jake, her elegant yet simple gown catching the eyes of onlookers as she walked in. Whispers trailed her like a shadow, but she maintained her composure, her gaze firmly set on Catherine.

Beatrice moved closer, her eyes narrowing. “Enjoy the evening, Amelia. This may be your final opportunity to mix with the elite.”

Jake interjected, his presence authoritative. “I believe you’ve said enough, Mrs. Beatrice.”

Catherine’s glance shifted between Amelia and Jake, her smile sharpening. “Don’t worry, Amelia. We’ll ensure you’re unforgettable... one way or another.”

Amelia balled her fists yet stood firm. “You don’t scare me, Catherine. Not anymore.”

Catherine’s eyes sparkled with malice, but before she could reply, Ronald approached, his hand resting protectively on her back.

“Ladies,” he said smoothly, momentarily locking eyes with Amelia before looking away. “Let’s keep things civil.”

Jake guided Amelia away, his hand gently placed on her lower back. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay,” she responded, although her voice slightly trembled. “I just want this evening to end.”

As the night progressed, Amelia found herself in the garden, seeking a moment of peace. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the suffocating tension indoors.

“Amelia,” a familiar voice called.

She turned to see Ronald approaching, his expression torn. Ronald stopped in front of her, his presence dominating and cold. The warmth that once flickered in his eyes when he looked at her had now turned to an icy detachment.

“What are you doing here!?” he snapped, his tone brisk.

She held his gaze, refusing to flinch under the weight of his stare. “It’s a charity gala, Ronald. I didn’t know my attendance would be a problem.”

“It is when you turn it into one,” he shot back, his voice dropping. “This isn’t your realm anymore, Amelia. You don’t fit in here.”

Her jaw clenched, but she stood her ground. “I have just as much right to be here as anyone else.”

His eyes narrowed. “You once belonged in this world, but you threw it away. Don’t assume you can waltz back in and erase the damage you created.”

Amelia's chest constricted, the impact of his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “I didn’t come here to stir up trouble, Ronald. But I won’t apologize for standing my ground.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Then be prepared for the repercussions.”

Before she could reply, Catherine appeared at his side, her hand slipping possessively around his arm. “Is everything alright here?” she asked sweetly, although her eyes shone with malice.

“Absolutely fine,” Ronald replied, his tone smooth as he turned to lead Catherine away. But not before casting one last frosty glance in Amelia’s direction.

As soon as they were gone, Jake stepped beside her, his presence a calming reassurance. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, though her hands quivered slightly. “I’m fine. Let’s just get through this evening.”

The grand ballroom was a display of wealth. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the polished marble floors with a warm light, and soft classical music floated through the atmosphere. Guests mingled, their laughter and conversations blending into a harmonious background.

Catherine moved gracefully through the crowd, her hand occasionally brushing against her rounded belly. Yet beneath her polished demeanor, she was filled with rage. The mere sight of Amelia in her seemingly perfect world was enough to tarnish even the finest champagne.

Beatrice approached her, a glass of wine in hand. “She’s up to something,” she murmured, her gaze locked on Amelia. “She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Catherine's smile became strained. “Let her try. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

However, her composure wavered when she saw Jake at the bar, conversing with one of the board members. Paranoia flooded her thoughts—was he sharing information? Undermining her plans?

Unable to hold back, she stormed across the room, the sound of her heels sharply echoing against the marble floor.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, her voice slicing through the air and attracting several curious glances.

Jake turned, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “Enjoying the party. Isn’t that what everyone’s meant to be doing?”

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Don’t feign innocence with me, Jake. I know you’re up to something.”

Before he could reply, the sudden crash of glass splintering rang out. Catherine had toppled a tray of champagne flutes in her anger, causing gasps and whispers to ripple through the crowd.

Almost instantly, Ronald was at her side, a steadying hand moving to support her. “What’s happening?” he questioned, his tone low but authoritative.

Catherine glanced at the broken glass, then back at Jake. “He’s been snooping all evening,” she spat. “You need to take action against him.”

Ronald’s expression clouded, but he maintained a composed tone. “Let’s avoid creating a scene, Catherine.”

“But—”

“Enough,” he interrupted firmly. “We’ll address this later.”

Later that evening, as the attendees started to leave, Amelia quietly slipped into the study to collect her thoughts. The room was softly illuminated, the shadows casting strange shapes against the walls.

Just as she was about to exit, she spied a folder resting on the desk. Curiosity overtook her, and she opened it.

Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the contents inside. Bank statements, property deeds, and legal contracts—all linked to Catherine and Beatrice’s shell company.

Before she could fully comprehend the ramifications, the door creaked open behind her. She turned to see Catherine standing in the doorway, her expression icy and calculating.

“What are you doing here?” Catherine inquired, her tone deceptively soothing.

“I could ask you the same,” Amelia replied, holding out the folder.

Catherine’s eyes darkened as she entered the room, shutting the door behind her. “You have no clue what you’re getting into, Amelia. If you think you can outmaneuver me, you’re gravely mistaken.”

Amelia stood her ground, her heart racing. “Perhaps it’s time someone brought your games to an end.”

Catherine flashed a smile, though it lacked any warmth. “Oh, Amelia. You have no idea what’s coming your way.”