Chapter 23

For the first time in several weeks, Catherine Rodriguez beamed—a sly, victorious grin that graced her lips as she took in her reflection in the ornate mirror. The morning sun streaming through the grand windows enveloped her in a gentle radiance, yet it was the news of Amelia’s vanishing that uplifted her spirits.

“She’s gone,” Catherine spoke aloud, testing the phrase on her lips. “The ideal little thorn in my side has finally removed herself from my existence.”

Beatrice, reclining on a chaise by the window, looked up from her cup of tea. “Gone, yes,” she reflected, her tone tinged with pleasure. “But is it for good? That’s what we ought to ponder.”

Catherine pivoted, her silk robe swirling around her legs as she approached. “Oh, come now, Mother. Allow me to relish this moment. Amelia has finally recognized the inevitability of her situation. She couldn’t withstand the stress, the accusations. She understood she was defeated.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk spreading across her face. “You seem awfully sure of yourself for someone who has been outmaneuvered in the past. Remember, darling, the meek often find their strength renewed. You should be vigilant.”

Catherine laughed dismissively, pouring herself a glass of champagne from the crystal decanter on the table. “Let her attempt to come back if she dares. She’ll discover that I am no longer the feeble woman she once left behind.”

Beatrice chuckled quietly, the sound as light as it was treacherous. “Ah, to possess your arrogance, my dear. But let’s not overlook—while Amelia may be out of sight, she is far from out of mind. Ronald, for instance, is more despondent than ever. And the board? They are becoming increasingly uneasy.”

In the vast estate’s west wing, Ronald Wellington sat in his private study, his gaze locked on the same line of text he had been scrutinizing for over an hour. The quarterly reports were strewn across his desk, an outward display of the turmoil swirling in his thoughts.

He had believed that Amelia’s absence would provide clarity—that the tempest would finally subside. Instead, it had left him with a persistent emptiness he couldn’t shake. Her absence wasn’t a solution; it was a sign of the decay that had infected his life.

A knock echoed at the door. Without raising his head, he called, “Come in.”

Catherine entered, her confidence radiating. She wore a tailored dress that exuded authority and control, her every motion purposeful.

“You’re isolating yourself, Ronald,” she noted, taking a seat in the chair across from him. “That doesn’t suit a man overseeing one of the largest enterprises in the nation.”

“I’m managing the company perfectly well,” Ronald replied sharply, his tone making it clear there was no room for debate.

“Are you?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “From my vantage point, it seems things are beginning to slip. The board is second-guessing your decisions. The shareholders are anxious. And you, my dear husband, are... preoccupied.”

Ronald’s gaze finally met hers, his expression inscrutable. “Is there a reason for this lecture, Catherine?”

“Amelia.” Her voice cut through the silence like a whip. “She’s vanished, Ronald. You should be feeling relieved. Instead, you’re sulking like a man who’s lost something invaluable.”

Ronald’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.

Catherine leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. “She was a burden, Ronald. A risk. Her disappearance has been a blessing. Now we can concentrate on what genuinely matters—our legacy.”

He held her gaze for a long time, his face a mask of composed indifference. “Our legacy,” he repeated, his tone emotionless. “And what exactly does that signify to you, Catherine?”

“It signifies securing the future of Wellington Holdings,” she replied smoothly. “It involves severing connections with the past—with individuals who jeopardize everything we’ve established.”

Ronald reclined in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “You speak as though Jake wasn’t part of that heritage.”

For a brief moment, Catherine’s assurance wavered. “Jake’s death was a tragedy,” she stated cautiously. “But lingering on it won’t bring him back. We must progress.”

“Progress,” Ronald repeated, his tone a quiet murmur. “Interesting. That’s precisely what Jake desired—to advance, to rectify the chaos we’ve created.”

Catherine's mouth turned into a tight line. “Don’t idealize him, Ronald. Jake acted recklessly. His death was the consequence of his own decisions.”

“Was it?” Ronald’s stare pierced hers, unwavering. “Or was it due to this family’s fixation on control?”

*******

Later that night, Catherine and Beatrice gathered in the parlor, their laughter resonating through the expansive hall as they toasted to their perceived triumph.

“To Amelia’s wise judgment,” Catherine proclaimed, lifting her glass. “And to our ongoing success without her interference.”

Beatrice tapped her glass against her daughter’s, her smile as keen as a knife. “Absolutely. But let’s not become complacent, dear. Ronald may appear unconcerned now, but his allegiance to Jake—and therefore, Amelia—is a variable we must remain vigilant about.”

Catherine exhaled, leaning back into the plush cushions. “Ronald is manageable. He’s caught between remorse and pride, and I know how to exploit both. Our focus should be on solidifying our control within the company. The board is already anxious—one more misstep, and they’ll be seeking a new leader.”

Beatrice nodded, her keen eyes glinting in the muted light. “Then we must ensure they have faith in you. Organize an event, something to demonstrate your command. Perhaps a charity gala. It will remind everyone who is in charge.”

Catherine beamed, her confidence renewed. “A brilliant suggestion, Mother. And while they’re captivated by our showcase, we’ll strengthen our grip on the company's assets. By the time Amelia contemplates returning—if she ever does—it will be too late for her to reclaim anything.”

Meanwhile, in his humble home, Rodriguez sat by the fireplace, his face lit by the dancing flames. He had spent countless evenings like this, engulfed in thought, reliving the decisions that led him here.

He remembered Amelia—his strong, resilient daughter—and the hurt he had inflicted upon her by siding with Catherine. He had convinced himself it was the right choice, but now, in the solitude of his quietude, he recognized it for what it truly was: a betrayal.

A photograph of Amelia as a little girl rested on the mantelpiece. Rodriguez picked it up, his fingers gliding over the frame. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I let you down.”

The burden of his remorse was a constant presence, a shadow looming over him. He had attempted to call her, to write to her, even to visit the places she used to go, but she had disappeared without a trace.

Rodriguez clenched his fists, a flicker of resolve igniting within him. He had lost his daughter once; he would not allow it to happen again.

Back at the Wellington estate, Catherine reveled in the triumph of her initiatives. The charity gala she had orchestrated was a remarkable success, with esteemed individuals from across the city praising her elegance and leadership.

As she interacted with the guests, her laughter rang out like a siren’s melody, drawing people into her orbit. Beatrice watched from a distance, her pride evident in her poise.

“You’ve exceeded all expectations, Catherine,” Beatrice said as her daughter came closer.

Catherine smirked, sipping her champagne. “This is merely the beginning, Mother. With Amelia out of the picture, we have nothing to hold us back.”

Yet even as she spoke, a feeling of unease lingered at the corners of her thoughts. Ronald’s icy indifference, the murmurs among the board members, the haunting presence of Jake’s legacy—all served as reminders that her success was still unfulfilled.

Amelia’s absence created a void that everyone sought to fill in their own manner—Catherine with her plots, Beatrice with her discreet manipulations, Ronald with his brooding silence, and Rodriguez with his remorse.

However, none of them recognized that the void was not truly empty. Amelia’s influence remained, guiding their actions, decisions, and destinies.

And far away, in a realm beyond their reach, Amelia was observing, waiting, and getting ready.

Her tale was far from finished.