Chapter 13

Threads of Deception.

The toast lingered in the atmosphere long after Jake stepped off the stage, its undertones simmering just beneath the surface of polite applause. Glasses clinked nervously, the crowd’s whispers growing as individuals exchanged inquisitive looks.

Amelia remained frozen by the entrance, her heart racing. Jake’s calculated remarks resonated in her mind: “Family secrets and new beginnings.” A pointed strike at the Wellingtons' veneer. She understood Jake well enough to know when he was playing a strategic game—but that evening, he had unleashed the first explosive attack.

Catherine’s smile had turned brittle, her fingers clutching her champagne flute with such intensity that Amelia feared it might break. Ronald’s face, in contrast, wore a facade of composure, yet the slight twitch in his jaw revealed his annoyance.

This is going to escalate, Amelia thought, steeling herself.

*******

As the orchestra picked up again, Jake made his way back to Amelia’s side. He offered her a glass of champagne, his demeanor unapologetic.

“That was unwarranted,” she murmured, glancing at Ronald and Catherine.

“Warranted,” Jake countered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do you think they needed to be reminded that secrets never stay hidden for long,” he said casually.

“You’re handling a dangerous game,” she whispered back.

He gave a smirk. “Lucky for me, I enjoy the intensity.”

Catherine made her way through the crowd, excusing herself with fluid and purposeful movements. Amelia watched her intently, sensing the brewing tempest. Moments later, Catherine slipped into a narrow corridor, engulfed by darkness.

Ronald maintained his composure, raising his glass to the guests. “Here’s to my lovely bride and the future we’re building,” he declared, his tone unwavering, though he briefly glanced at Jake. “Let’s have a wonderful evening.”

The attendees clapped politely, but the tension hung in the air.

******

Amelia hadn’t planned on following Catherine, yet her feet seemed to guide her toward the corridor instinctively. Maybe it was pure curiosity, or perhaps a persistent feeling told her that the night’s turmoil wasn't finished.

She discovered Catherine in a poorly lit alcove, her back to Amelia as she downed the final sips of her champagne. The glass met the marble windowsill with a sharp clink.

“You’ve got guts being here,” Catherine said without turning around.

Amelia crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “I could say the same about you. But then again, manipulation seems to be your forte.”

Catherine slowly turned around, her eyes sparkling with icy rage. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Playing the victim while trying to worm your way back into Ronald’s life.”

“I’m not pretending at all,” Amelia retorted. “I’m not the one living in a fabrication.”

Catherine’s lips twisted into a threatening smile. “You really think Ronald cares for you still? Poor Amelia, always chasing after phantoms. He’s mine now, and we’re expecting a child. You’re just a piece of his past.”

Her words hit hard, but Amelia stood her ground. “We’ll see how long your little dream lasts," she replied coolly.

Before Catherine could shoot back, Jake’s voice interrupted. “Ladies,” he said, stepping into the alcove. “Is this a civil conversation, or do I need to step in?”

“Stay out of this,” Catherine shot back, losing control.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Touchy, aren’t we?” He turned toward Amelia. “Come on, let’s not waste any more breath on her.”

Reluctantly, Amelia permitted Jake to lead her back to the main hall, leaving Catherine simmering in the shadows.

*******

Meanwhile, Ronald retreated to his private study, the heaviness of the evening weighing on him. The crackling fire offered a false warmth, failing to thaw the chill within. He poured himself a whiskey, the amber liquid swirling as his mind raced.

Jake’s words during the toast were strategic, designed to unsettle him—and it had succeeded. Ronald took pride in his composure, but tonight he felt the carefully woven threads of his life starting to come apart.

A knock at the door caught his attention. “Come in,” he called, his tone sharp.

It was Ethan, his loyal assistant. “Sir, everything seems to be under control outside,” Ethan informed him. “But Jake’s toast has raised some questions.”

Ronald scoffed, downing his drink in one quick motion. “He feeds on chaos. Let them chatter; it doesn’t change a thing.”

Ethan hesitated. “What about Amelia? She appears… preoccupied.”

Ronald tightened his grip on the glass. “Amelia is no longer my concern.”

“Of course, sir,” Ethan replied, though his tone implied doubt.

After Ethan left, Ronald stared into the now empty glass, his thoughts drifting back to Amelia’s expression. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase her from his mind.

******

Back in the main hall, Beatrice confronted Catherine near the bar, her face tight with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Beatrice urged in a whisper. “You look like you’re about to burst.”

“Amelia,” Catherine spat. “She’s trying to sabotage everything. And Jake—he’s even worse. Did you catch what he said during the toast?”

Beatrice grimly nodded. “He’s definitely pushing Ronald’s limits. We should be cautious.”

Catherine disagreed, shaking her head. “No. We must take action. Amelia is the issue, and I won’t allow her to threaten what I’ve worked for.”

Beatrice looked troubled. “What do you have in mind?”

Catherine’s eyes narrowed, a spark of ruthlessness in them. “Something that will guarantee she stays away from this family forever.”

*********

As the evening progressed, the party began to slow down. Guests lingered near the buffet, their discussions quieter, their movements more languid. Yet for Amelia, the tension remained high.

She stood on the balcony, gazing out at the vast gardens below. The cool breeze was a refreshing change, but it did little to calm her frayed nerves.

Jake approached her, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You alright?” he asked, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

“I’m fine,” she replied, although the quiver in her voice revealed the truth.

“You’re not,” he observed, moving closer. “You’re thinking about Ronald.”

Amelia sighed. “It’s difficult not to. Being here—seeing him, seeing her—it brings everything rushing back.”

Jake leaned against the railing, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve more than this, Amelia. You know that, right?”

She looked into his eyes, searching for honesty. “Do I?”

Before he could respond, the sound of raised voices from the hall caught their attention.

**********

Amelia and Jake rushed back inside to find a small crowd gathered near the center of the room. Catherine was at the center, her face reddened with anger as she argued with an older gentleman who seemed to be an investor.

“Is everything okay?” Ronald’s voice sliced through the tension as he approached, his presence commanding immediate silence.

Catherine faced him, her expression softening. “Just a misunderstanding,” she quickly replied.

The man shook his head. “Your brother’s comments earlier were… troubling. If there are hidden issues within this family, it could impact our faith in the company’s stability.”

Ronald's jaw clenched. “There are no secrets,” he stated resolutely, his gaze momentarily darting to Jake.

The man appeared unconvinced, yet he nodded and walked away.

As the crowd began to break up, Catherine faced Ronald. “We need to have a conversation,” she stressed, her voice low but urgent.

“Not now,” he answered, moving past her.

Catherine's attention shifted to Amelia, who was observing the situation unfold. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, Catherine's determination solidified.

This isn’t finished, her glare seemed to convey.

Amelia stood her ground, unwilling to be cowed.

*******

As the attendees started to depart, the Wellington estate fell into a stillness, though the tension lingered like the remnants of a extinguished blaze. Amelia and Jake left together, their presence still the topic of hushed discussions.

In the dim light under the grand staircase, Catherine remained with Beatrice, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “This means war,” she declared, her demeanor chillingly composed.

Beatrice placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Just keep in mind—maintaining control is crucial. Don’t allow your rage to disrupt the plan.”

However, Catherine's thoughts raced ahead, scheming her next action. She would not find peace until Amelia was completely out of her way.

As Amelia and Jake drove off, the estate receded behind them, a bastion of obscured truths and deceptions. Amelia gazed out the window, her reflection blending with the shimmering cityscape.

“Something is brewing,” she murmured softly, more to herself than to Jake.

He turned to her. “Let it come. We are prepared.”

Yet as the car vanished into the darkness, neither could dismiss the intuition that the tempest was only just beginning.