- (Amelie's POV) -
I kept telling myself it was nothing.
That the tightness in my chest had nothing to do with the way Dylan leaned slightly
toward Jasmine Hernandez, or how comfortable he looked beside her.
She was beautiful, confident, unafraid to show that she was part of Dylan's world.
I kept convincing myself of that.
Over and over again.
But lies are heavy.
And that afternoon at the mall, it felt as if that weight pressed down on every breath I took.
I stood one step behind Yuri, pretending to be interested in the cars, the applause, the lights, and the cameras, when in truth my gaze kept returning to him, to Dylan, to the quiet authority in the way he moved. He never had to force it, because it came naturally to him.
And to the woman beside him.
Jasmine's hand on his arm looked as if it had always belonged there.
It was too natural.
Too familiar.
I looked away before the ache could grow worse.
You have no right, I reminded myself, because I had given that up a long time ago.
But jealousy does not follow logic.
It arrives silently, it waits patiently, and it settles in without asking permission.
That night, before dinner, I locked my bedroom door and stared at my phone for a long time.
I couldn't call.
In this mansion, it felt as if eyes were watching every movement, as if the walls knew how to listen and the hallways remembered every step. Even silence felt guarded.
So I typed a text message instead.
Sophia/Amelie:
I need to see you. I'll come to Velmore tomorrow.
I can't explain this over the phone.
I deleted the message three times before finally sending it.
When her reply arrived, my hand trembled slightly.
Marie:
What happened? Are you okay?
I wasn't.
But all I replied was:
Tomorrow. Please.
*********
Later that night dinner was quiet.
Just the four of us, Elijah, Yuri, Helena, and me. No guests, no noise,
only the sound of cutlery and the weight of everything left unsaid.
Naturally, Elijah reached for my hand and brushed his thumb over my fingers,
a gesture gentle enough to look real.
I forced myself to calm down.
"I need to go to Velmore tomorrow," I said casually.
"There's something I need to take care of for the wedding preparations."
He nodded immediately. "Alright. I can have someone go with you."
"I'll go alone," I said quickly. "It won't take long."
Yuri shifted in her seat. "Can I come? I could use a break too."
I smiled at her. "I'm meeting some old classmates from Harvard.
You'll probably get bored."
She sighed. "Fine."
Helena remained silent.
Her gaze lingered on me longer than necessary, sharp and calculating,
as if she were counting something.
"Alright," she said at last. "Just don't exhaust yourself."
She smiled, but her eyes were cold.
***********
The next day, Velmore felt like air.
The moment I stepped into Marie's office, everything I had been holding back collapsed.
"You didn't tell me," I said the moment the door closed.
She frowned. "About what?"
"That Elijah has a half-brother."
"And then?" she asked lightly at first.
"And that brother," I said, my voice restrained, "is Dylan."
The entire room went silent.
Marie slowly sat down. "Are you sure?"
"He's a Chen," I said. "Dylan Luis Suarez Chen."
She rubbed her forehead. "I didn't know. I swear. Back then, he was just Suarez."
"I know," I said as I paced the room. "He must have been using his mother's surname.
Maybe that was all he had."
The silence grew heavier.
"This is dangerous," Marie whispered.
"Your real identity could be exposed."
"We can't tell Elijah," I said immediately. "We can't."
She nodded. "Not yet."
After a moment, she hesitated. "What if you talk to him?"
I stopped pacing. "No."
The answer came too quickly.
"If you you only saw the way he looks at me,"
I added quietly.
"If you knew how, I wouldn't survive it."
Marie sighed.
"Then I'll do it," she decided. "I'll talk to him."
"Marie—"
"I'll explain," she interrupted. "We just need to keep him under control.
Or tame him. "
************
The days that followed felt like a performance.
Elijah and I shopped for rings, talked about guest lists,
and drank coffee as if we were a real couple.
One morning, we passed by Café Bulle De Ciel.
Dylan was there.
Of course he was.
I saw the disappointment in his eyes the moment he noticed us.
It hurt more when Jasmine arrived.
Her smile commanded attention, and her movements were practiced.
She walked straight toward Dylan.
And this time, he allowed it.
I hated myself for noticing.
I hated myself more because he noticed that I noticed.
He returned the gesture subtly but deliberately, with a lingering look and a quiet laugh. Jasmine, in turn, looked certain of something that had not yet been promised.
"Hello, you're Dylan's brother, Dr. Elijah Chen, right?" she said brightly.
"I'm Jasmine Hernandez, Dylan's future girlfriend."
The words landed like a slap.
Dylan didn't correct her.
He only looked at me.
And smiled.
"Ah, Simeon Hernandez's youngest daughter," Elijah said politely.
Then he turned to Dylan. "So it's true. You're partnered with Hernandez Holdings."
I couldn't take it anymore.
"We need to go," I said to Elijah. "Marie's agent is waiting for us."
I could feel Dylan's gaze on me until we left.
********
The next day, Marie met Dylan.
She didn't tell me what they talked about.
Only that he was cold and detached, and that he said whatever relationship
I had with Elijah was none of his business.
Something sank deep in my stomach.
"That's it?" I asked.
"We don't know what he's thinking," she replied.
That frightened me more.
Back at the mansion, there was no avoiding him.
I saw him everywhere.
One morning, I was jogging in Alderidge Heights Park when I saw him running toward me,
his shirt clinging to his body, sweat visible as he drank from a bottle in slow motion.
I tried to look away.
I couldn't.
That night, I went swimming, hoping the water would calm my thoughts.
He was there.
He climbed out of the pool, water trailing down his skin, his hair soaked.
He looked up just in time to catch my gaze.
I left immediately.
I didn't sleep that night.
His image replayed in my mind over and over, the way he rose from the water,
the shape of his lips against the bottle, the sweat sliding from his temple
to his jaw and neck, the water tracing his body like memory on a loop.
He is driving me crazy.
I went to the kitchen for fresh milk.
When I opened the refrigerator, I froze.
He was suddenly behind me, reaching for a beer.
His breath brushed my ear and neck, warm, carrying his woody, amber scent.
My heart raced, and heat rushed to my face.
"Careful," he murmured. "You're shaking."
I didn't know if he meant my hands.
Or what was unraveling inside me.
With every encounter, my control cracked a little more.
I felt it before I understood it.
Something was changing.
He no longer avoided me.
He sought me out, deliberately closing the distance.
While Helena remained watchful.
Quiet, observant, her gaze lingering longer,
her questions sharper, the silence heavier.
Cracks were forming.
And I didn't know which one of us would break first.