Chapter Eleven
Adrenaline slid through Amelia's veins — sharp, intoxicating, far more potent than the lavender oil perfuming the spa room.
Secrets like this weren't just secrets in their world.
They were weapons.
And among the elite, weapons weren't hidden away. They were polished. Sharpened. Prepared carefully until the moment they could draw blood.
For a split second, that ruthless calculation flickered in Amelia's eyes.
Then she looked at the girl beside her.
Annabella Rodriguez — usually poised, untouchable, the golden daughter of a ruthless dynasty — was crumbling on the massage table like glass shattered under too much pressure.
Amelia's expression shifted instantly.
The calculating glint vanished, replaced by something softer.
A mask of shimmering empathy.
"Oh, Bella…" Amelia breathed gently, her voice melting into a melody of concern.
She reached across the narrow space between their tables, her fingers closing around Annabella's trembling hand.
Her touch was warm.
Steady.
Entirely deceptive.
"Don't cry," she murmured. "Please… look at me."
For a moment, Annabella didn't move.
Then slowly - hesitantly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes were red-rimmed. Raw vulnerability flickered there… the kind she had never allowed anyone to see.
"Amelia…" Her voice cracked. "I'm a monster, aren't I?"
The words trembled out like a confession dragged from the deepest corner of her soul.
"To feel this way… about him."
Amelia squeezed her hand immediately.
"No," she whispered with soft urgency. "No, Bella. Never say that."
Her thumb brushed gently across Annabella's knuckles, the gesture sisterly. Reassuring.
"The heart doesn't follow rules," Amelia continued tenderly. "Especially not the ridiculous rules society makes."
She tilted her head, speaking slowly, thoughtfully — like someone trying to guide a wounded friend back from the edge.
"You've lived under the same roof. He's protected you. He's cared for you… cherished you."
Her voice softened further.
"It's only natural your heart would get… confused."
Inside, Amelia was practically purring.
*Confused?*
Please.
*This isn't confusion.*
*This is obsession.*
Her pulse thrummed with wicked delight.
*This is scandal.*
*The kind that could rot the Rodriguez name from the inside out.*
The thought thrilled her.
She could already see it unfolding like a slow-motion catastrophe — headlines splashed across tabloids, the whispers at galas, the quiet, horrified distance of their so-called friends.
The mighty Rodriguez family collapsing under the weight of its own disgrace.
And in the hollow space left behind…
Someone would have to step forward.
Someone ambitious.
Someone clever.
Someone like 'her'.
"You really think so?" Annabella asked quietly. snapping Amelia out of her daydream.
A fragile spark of hope flickered in her dark eyes.
It was almost painful to watch.
Almost.
"I know so," Amelia replied without hesitation.
The lie slipped from her lips as smooth as silk.
"And honestly?" she added with a gentle shrug. "Maxwell is a man, Bella."
She offered a small, sympathetic smile.
"A very powerful… very handsome man."
Her tone turned lightly teasing, as if trying to lift the heaviness from the room.
"Any woman would lose her mind over him."
Amelia leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial murmur.
"It just happens that you're the one who has to see him every day."
Annabella swallowed hard.
The truth of that seemed to weigh on her chest like a stone.
Amelia studied her carefully, then sighed softly.
"But we have to be careful."
Her voice dropped another notch, suddenly serious.
"If your father found out… or if anyone else in the circle even *suspected* something like this…"
She let the sentence hang, heavy with implication.
"You know how they are."
Her lips curved faintly.
"They're vultures."
Inside her mind, Amelia almost laughed.
*And I'm the lead vulture.*
Her thoughts were already racing ahead — calculating possibilities, imagining opportunities.
Who would pay the most for a secret like this?
The press?
Or perhaps Martin Rodriguez himself… if she played the role of the loyal, concerned friend trying to "protect" his daughter from her own dangerous emotions.
Yes.
That could be 'very' profitable.
"I'm so scared," Annabella whispered.
Her voice was barely audible now, thin as thread.
"I don't even know how to act around him anymore."
Amelia's expression softened again instantly.
"Oh, Bella," she said gently.
"You'll get through this."
Her eyes widened with perfectly practiced innocence.
She gave Annabella's hand one final reassuring squeeze before letting go.
"Your secret is buried in my heart," Amelia promised solemnly. "I would die before I let anyone hurt you with it."
Inside, her thoughts corrected the statement with chilling clarity.
*I wouldn't die.*
Amelia settled comfortably back onto her own massage table, the corners of her lips curling into a tiny, satisfied smirk hidden safely from view.
*But you might.*
☆
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[Felix's Villa - 8:00 PM]
Steam still clung faintly to Felix's skin as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror, adjusting the sleek black belt around his waist.
His hair was still damp from the shower, dark strands falling carelessly across his forehead. Droplets traced slow paths down his muscular chest before disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.
Behind him, the bedroom lights cast a golden glow across the marble floor and polished wood walls of the villa.
Felix studied his reflection with the calm confidence of a man who knew exactly the effect he had on a room.
Tonight would be important.
Mr. Moretti's birthday party was never just a celebration — it was a battlefield disguised as champagne and laughter.
The city's most powerful elites would be there. Deals would be whispered between handshakes, alliances forged between glasses of vintage wine.
And Felix never missed an opportunity.
Especially if it meant pushing the Morales Corporation one step further ahead.
The door opened quietly behind him.
Amelia slipped into the room like a shadow.
Her heels barely made a sound against the polished floor as she stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her.
Her gaze lifted…
…. and froze.
Felix stood shirtless in front of the mirror, broad shoulders flexing slightly as he adjusted the belt.
The sight made her smile.
Slow.
Satisfied.
She placed her bag on the small table near the door and walked toward him, each step deliberate and silent.
Like a predator approaching prey.
Before he could notice her reflection behind him, Amelia slid her arms around his waist from behind, hugging him tightly.
Her cheek brushed the warm skin of his back.
"Babe…"
Felix turned abruptly, catching her wrists and pulling her hands away.
But Amelia was already leaning in.
Her lips pressed against his, soft and confident, while her fingers glided over the firm planes of his chest as if they belonged there.
Felix kissed her back automatically at first.
Then deeper.
Until he felt her hands drifting lower.
Her fingers brushed the buckle of his belt.
"No, babe."
He broke the kiss, catching her wrists again before she could undo it.
"Not now," he said, his voice low but firm. "I have somewhere to be."
Amelia blinked.
"Oh… okay."
She walked to the bed and sat down slowly, crossing one leg over the other.
For a moment, silence hung in the room.
Then she sighed softly.
"I shouldn't be here," she murmured.
Felix frowned, glancing at her reflection through the mirror.
"If Annabella knew I was telling you this… she'd never forgive me."
That caught his attention.
Felix turned fully now.
"What do you mean?"
Amelia tilted her head slightly, studying him like someone savoring a private joke.
"I have a piece of news," she said slowly.
"A secret so dark… it could turn that 'friendship' you have with Maxwell into something far more interesting."
A small, wicked smirk touched her lips.
Felix walked toward her immediately.
Curiosity had always been one of his most dangerous weaknesses.
He stopped between her knees and pulled her closer by the waist until her soft breasts pressed against his bare chest.
"Tell me," he murmured near her ear. "I'm in the mood for a scandal."
Amelia's eyes sparkled.
"Oh? I thought you were in a rush to go somewhere."
"It can wait," Felix replied without hesitation.
Her lips curved slowly.
"But if I told you…" she said, biting her lower lip in deliberate temptation.
"What would I get in return?"
Her hand slid casually inside the waistband of his trousers.
"Tell me first," he said with a crooked smile. "Then I'll decide."
Amelia leaned closer.
Her breath brushed against his ear.
Her voice dropped into a silky whisper laced with venom.
"My dearest friend… Annabella…"
She paused for effect.
"…is in love with her brother."
Felix's body went completely still.
"Not like a sister," Amelia continued softly. "She's obsessed with Maxwell."
Her fingers trailed lazily along his stomach as she spoke.
"She cried in my arms today at the spa… terrified he's pushing her away because he can sense the filth in her heart."
The air in the room seemed to thicken.
Felix stared at her.
His mind began connecting pieces he hadn't understood before.
Annabella's strange behavior earlier.
The tension that always sparked whenever Maxwell's name came up.
The way Maxwell's jaw tightened whenever someone mentioned her.
It hadn't been simple protectiveness.
It had been resistance.
A war against something dangerous.
"In love with her brother?" Felix repeated slowly.
Then a dark laugh rumbled from his chest.
Low.
Disbelieving.
"The untouchable Rodriguez princess…" he said, shaking his head.
"…pining for a man who shares her blood?"
His grin widened.
"This is better than a merger."
Amelia smiled against his neck.
"It's our leverage," she purred.
Her lips brushed the pulse point there.
"Imagine the look on Maxwell's face when he realizes his 'friend' knows exactly what's happening in his own house… or what 'wants' to happen there."
Her smile turned wicked.
"You could break him, Felix."
Felix gripped her chin suddenly, forcing her to look up at him.
His eyes burned now — bright with ambition and something far more primal.
"And what do you want in return, my little spy?"
He kissed the curve of her neck lightly.
Amelia's eyes gleamed.
"I want to see her fall," she whispered.
"I want her throne."
Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulders.
"I want the Rodriguez name dragged through the mud until there's nothing left."
Felix studied her for a moment.
Then his lips curved slowly.
"A fair price."
He pushed her gently back onto the bed.
Amelia laughed softly, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.
His hands moved over her body with impatient hunger — possessive, rough, celebratory.
He captured her mouth in a deep, chaotic kiss.
Not tender.
Not careful.
Just pure, reckless indulgence.
Amelia arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as a soft sound escaped her lips.
The room grew warmer.
Darker.
The villa itself seemed to retreat into silence as shadows gathered around them.
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, betrayal was sealed in sweats.
And even as Felix lost himself in the moment…
his mind kept returning to one thought.
Maxwell.
The party tonight.
The moment he would walk into that room carrying a secret powerful enough to shatter a dynasty.
Felix smiled against Amelia's lips.
He could already imagine Maxwell's face when everything finally came crashing down.
☆
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[Rodriguez Mansion]
•
Annabella walked into the mansion like a ghost haunting her own life.
Her steps were slow, almost mechanical, as the grand doors closed behind her with a soft, echoing thud. The marble floors gleamed beneath the chandelier lights, the vast entrance hall as elegant and imposing as ever.
Yet tonight, it felt strangely hollow.
She felt lighter after confessing everything to Amelia.
For the first time in weeks, the suffocating secret inside her chest had cracked open just enough for air to slip in.
But relief didn't mean peace.
Her heart was still tangled in knots she didn't know how to undo.
"Welcome home, my lady."
Karen's gentle voice broke through her thoughts.
The househelp appeared from the hallway, wiping her hands on a neatly folded cloth.
"Is Brother Max back yet?" Annabella asked softly.
Karen shook her head.
"Not yet, my lady."
Annabella's gaze drifted to the antique clock hanging on the wall.
8:20 PM.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
"I guess he must be on his way," she murmured more to herself than to anyone else.
She straightened slightly, trying to shake off the heaviness clinging to her chest.
"Prepare dinner for us," she said gently. "I'll take a shower before he returns."
Karen nodded immediately.
"Yes, my lady."
Annabella turned and began climbing the sweeping staircase, her fingers trailing lightly along the polished wooden railing.
The mansion was silent except for the soft rhythm of her steps.
Halfway up the stairs, her expression softened.
A fragile determination flickered in her eyes.
*I'll fix this.*
Her fingers tightened slightly on the railing.
*I will definitely bring back our good old days, Brother Max.*
The days before things had become strange.
Before her heart had betrayed her so completely.
She climbed the last step.
And disappeared down the quiet hallway.
…
Thirty minutes later, Annabella returned downstairs.
Fresh from the shower, her damp hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She wore simple silk pajamas — soft, comfortable, and modest.
The warm scent of food filled the dining hall.
Karen was arranging the last dishes carefully across the long dining table.
Annabella glanced toward the entrance instinctively.
Still empty.
Her brows pulled together slightly.
"Isn't he back yet?"
Karen froze for a brief moment.
Then she lowered her head.
"He… isn't."
Her voice came out softer than usual.
Almost hesitant.
Annabella noticed the tone but didn't question it.
Not tonight. She isn't in the mood.
"I'll just wait for him then," she said quietly.
She pulled out a chair and sat down at the long dining table.
The room felt too large for one person.
The empty chair across from her seemed to stare back like a silent reminder.
Annabella folded her hands in her lap.
And waited.
☆
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[Moretti's Birthday Gala — 9:56 PM]
The Moretti's estate glittered like a kingdom carved from light.
Marble columns rose toward vaulted ceilings where crystal chandeliers poured golden fire over the ballroom. Diamonds flashed with every movement, reflecting the glow like tiny stars caught in silk gowns and polished cufflinks.
The scent of expensive perfume lingered thickly in the air — sweet, suffocating, intoxicating.
Spain's elite filled the hall.
Power laughed over champagne.
Fortunes shook hands.
Maxwell Rodriguez sat among them like a king carved from ice.
His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the velvet sofa while a glass of champagne rested loosely in his hand.
His eyes were closed, his expression composed into the cold, flawless mask the world expected from him.
Beside him, Javier leaned slightly closer, whispering quiet updates about investors and introductions waiting to happen.
Maxwell barely listened.
His mind had already wandered somewhere far more dangerous.
Annabella.
He could still picture her ever morning morning — her sleepy face, the soft warmth of her good-morning hug.
He had left without it today.
Without the morning hugs.
And the absence felt wrong in ways he didn't want to examine.
*Is she okay?*
The thought slipped through his defenses like a blade.
He hadn't even been gone a full day, yet the quiet ache of missing her had already settled in his chest.
"Maxwell! You actually came."
The voice cut through the noise of the gala.
Maxwell opened his eyes slowly.
Felix Morales stood before him, emerging from the crowd like a wolf stepping into the light.
His midnight-blue tuxedo fit him perfectly, sharp and elegant, his smile easy and charming.
Too charming.
"Felix," Maxwell greeted smoothly.
The smile that appeared on his lips was flawless.
And completely fake.
"You're looking like a prince tonight, Felix," Maxwell added lightly. "Trying to catch the ladies' attention?"
Felix laughed.
"And you look like you haven't slept, Max."
His tone was casual, friendly.
But his eyes were sharp.
He stepped closer and clapped Maxwell on the shoulder — a gesture meant to look like friendship.
One that had always been hollow.
"Running the Diamond Enterprise alone must be exhausting," Felix continued cheerfully.
He leaned slightly closer.
"Lucky for you, I'm taking care of Annabella. She's a quick learner."
The champagne flute in Maxwell's hand tightened.
His knuckles slowly turned white.
"She's an intern, Felix," Maxwell replied coolly.
"Don't overstate her importance."
Felix's smile deepened.
"Oh, she's very important to me."
He said it softly.
Too softly.
Maxwell's eyes darkened instantly.
He knew Felix.
And right now, every instinct inside him screamed the same warning.
*He's upto something.*
"Don't start, Felix," Maxwell said coldly.
"Start what?" Felix laughed.
The sound was short.
Sharp.
"Come on, Max. We're friends, aren't we?"
He leaned closer then.
Close enough that his voice dropped into a whisper only Maxwell could hear.
A whisper that slid through the air like a snake's hiss.
"She has a very expressive face, Maxwell."
Maxwell's grip tightened further.
Felix's smile didn't waver.
"Especially when she talks about you."
A pause.
A slow, cruel pause.
"It's a shame, really," Felix murmured.
"Such a beautiful girl… with such a diseased little heart."
The world stopped.
Maxwell didn't breathe.
The champagne glass exploded in his hand.
Crystal shattered between his fingers, slicing into his palm as red liquid spilled down his wrist.
He didn't feel the pain.
He didn't feel anything.
His eyes were locked on Felix's.
Those dark, mocking eyes.
"What did you just say?"
Maxwell's voice came out low.
Rough.
The sound of a predator barely holding back violence.
Felix didn't step away.
Instead, he reached down calmly and plucked a shard of glass from Maxwell's bleeding hand.
His touch was almost gentle.
"You heard me, Max."
His voice softened dangerously.
"The 'sisterly act'? It's failing."
Felix tilted his head slightly.
"She's transparent."
His lips curved.
"One mention of your name and she looks like she's starving… for a touch you'll never give her."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath Maxwell's feet.
The ballroom disappeared.
The music.
The laughter.
The glittering lights.
All of it faded until only Felix's smirk remained.
*He knows.*
The realization slammed into Maxwell like a bullet.
The secret he had buried under years of discipline.
The longing he had suffocated with cold showers, harsh words, and distance.
The one thing he would rather die than expose…
Now lived in the hands of a man who specialized in destruction.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Maxwell growled.
His vision was narrowing.
Dark.
Dangerous.
He tried to pull his hand back.
Felix's grip tightened.
"Don't I?" Felix whispered.
He leaned closer.
So close Maxwell could smell the faint burn of bourbon on his breath…
…. and something else.
Amelia's perfume.
Felix's smile widened slightly.
"I see the way your jaw locks when I say her name."
Another pause.
"I see the way you're bleeding right now… and don't even notice."
His voice dropped lower.
"You're terrified, Maxwell."
Felix's eyes gleamed.
"Because you want her just as badly."
"She is my sister," Maxwell hissed.
The word tore through his chest like broken glass.
Felix's smile vanished.
And when he spoke again, his voice was colder.
"She's a woman who belongs to me now."
Maxwell froze.
"I've made her my Assistant CEO," Felix continued calmly.
"I've put her in my office."
Each sentence landed like a hammer.
"We'll be working late nights together."
A pause.
"Business trips."
Felix leaned in just enough for the final blow.
"I'm going to make sure she finally gets exactly what she's been craving…"
His voice dropped into something dark.
"…from a man who isn't her brother."
Felix released Maxwell's hand with a casual flick.
Blood dripped slowly from Maxwell's palm onto the polished white marble floor.
"Fix yourself, Max," Felix said lightly.
"You're making a mess."
Then he turned.
And walked away.
His stride relaxed.
Arrogant.
Like a man who had just lit a fuse and walked calmly away from the bomb.
Maxwell stood frozen in the center of the ballroom.
His breathing had turned sharp.
Unsteady.
He stared down at his hand.
The blood was hot.
Real.
Undeniable.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
One thought echoed in his mind, louder than everything else.
*I have to get her out.*
He wiped the blood against a napkin without even noticing the pain.
"I have to find her before he touches her."
The words came out like a vow.
Maxwell lifted his head slowly.
His eyes burned now.
Wild. Possessive. Terrifying.
"I would never let you lay a hand on Ana."
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
But it carried the weight of something unstoppable.
"She is…"
His jaw clenched.
"…mine."
Then Maxwell Rodriguez stormed out of the gala.
Behind him, the party continued.
Music.
Laughter.
Champagne.
None of them knew the war that had just begun.
And far away…
Inside the quiet Rodriguez mansion…
Annabella falls asleep waiting at the dinner table.
For a brother… .
Who meant the world to her.