Chapter 7

Amelia Avila POV:

My head hit the sharp corner of the side table with a sickening thud. A searing pain shot through my skull, and I felt a warm, sticky liquid trickle down my temple. Blood. My vision swam, but through the haze, I saw the faces of my former colleagues. Their eyes, once filled with professional respect, were now burning with contempt, with pure, unadulterated hatred.

"White-eyed wolf!" someone spat. "Traitor!" another yelled.

Then, objects began to fly. A stapler whizzed past my ear. A heavy binder struck my arm. A discarded coffee mug shattered against the wall near my head, spraying ceramic shards. Each blow, each verbal assault, felt like a physical extension of Gabe' s betrayal, chipping away at what little dignity I had left. The pain in my head intensified, a throbbing symphony of agony. My vision blurred. I struggled to breathe, the air thick with their venomous accusations.

I tried to speak, to explain, to tell them Cortney had orchestrated this, that I was innocent. But no words came out. My throat was raw from Gabe' s grip, and even if I could have spoken, no one would have listened. Their minds were already made up, poisoned by Cortney' s lies and Gabe' s fury.

Gabe watched the scene unfold, his face devoid of any emotion other than cold triumph. For a split second, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes-a hint of concern, perhaps, at the sight of my blood. But it was gone faster than a blink, replaced by that same chilling indifference.

"Enough!" he barked, his voice echoing through the room. He pointed at two burly security guards who had just entered. "Get her out of my sight. And make sure she doesn't leave the villa. Not a single step. She has some explaining to do about where those schematics went." His voice was chillingly calm, a stark contrast to his earlier rage.

The guards, grim-faced, grabbed my arms, hauling me roughly to my feet. The pain from my head wound, from the blows, from Gabe's assault, flared, making me cry out. They dragged me through the opulent hallways, past the expensive artwork and designer furniture, until they reached a heavy wooden door. It was the basement. A place Gabe had once joked about turning into a wine cellar, a place that now felt like a tomb.

They shoved me inside. The door slammed shut, plunging me into complete darkness. The cold, damp air instantly enveloped me. My head throbbed, the blood from the gash drying and stiffening in my hair. The untreated wound burned, an insidious fire spreading through my veins. A fever gradually took hold, turning my body into a furnace. Every muscle, every bone ached with a deep, pervasive pain.

Days blurred into a torment of cold, hunger, and feverish delirium. Gabe would come down occasionally, his face grim, demanding to know where the "stolen" schematics were. But I had nothing to tell him. I just stared at him, my eyes burning with a feverish defiance. "I didn't do it, Gabe," I would whisper, my voice hoarse and weak. "I didn't." He would just sneer, shaking his head, convinced of my guilt. He cut off my food and water. Three days passed, each one an eternity of thirst and starvation. I was fading, my consciousness flickering like a dying candle.

Then, the heavy door creaked open again. A sliver of light pierced the darkness, revealing a slender figure silhouetted against the dim hallway. Cortney. She stepped inside, her face illuminated by the faint glow, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. Her eyes glittered with malicious glee.

"Look at you, Amelia," she purred, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Pathetic. All that talent, all that ambition, reduced to this." She knelt beside me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, all of this could have been avoided if you'd just understood your place. Gabe was always meant for me. AG Designs, too. I just needed to... remove your influence entirely." She leaned closer, her breath smelling sickly sweet. "And those schematics? Oh, they're gone. Scattered to the winds. No one will ever trace them back to me. Your little company? It's burning down, Amelia. And you, my dear, are the perfect scapegoat."

A surge of adrenaline, fueled by pure, unadulterated fury, coursed through my weakened body. My company. My legacy. Destroyed. Framed. This conniving snake. I didn't care about the pain, the weakness. I lunged, a guttural cry escaping my lips. My hand connected with her face, a satisfying slap that echoed in the small space. Cortney reeled back, a yelp escaping her lips, her cheek quickly swelling, a red mark blooming on her pale skin. She stumbled, falling backwards onto the cold concrete floor.

Just then, the door burst open. Gabe stood there, his eyes wide with alarm. He had heard Cortney' s yelp.

Cortney, ever the actress, burst into theatrical sobs. She scrambled to her feet, throwing herself into Gabe's arms, burying her face in his chest. Her cries filled the small, suffocating space.