Chapter 3

"How dare you?" Amelia' s voice was low, trembling with a fury she hadn't felt since her rebirth.

"Eleanor respected you, even if no one else in this family did. Ethan would be furious if he knew you' d desecrated her memory like this."

She knew Ethan still held a complex reverence for his grandmother.

Jessica laughed, a high, brittle sound.

"Ethan? He' ll believe whatever I tell him. He always does."

She stepped closer, her eyes glinting. "And Eleanor? She was an old fool. Just like your mother, I suppose. Weak women, both of them, clinging to men who didn't want them."

The mention of her mother, who had died heartbroken and alone years ago, was a deliberate, vicious stab.

Amelia snapped.

The sound of her palm connecting with Jessica' s cheek echoed in the small alcove.

Jessica gasped, her hand flying to her face, her eyes wide with shock and then, fury.

"You bitch!" Jessica shrieked, lunging at Amelia, nails outstretched.

Amelia sidestepped, but Jessica, off-balance, stumbled.

Jessica' s hand flailed, grasping for purchase. It found the smooth, cold marble of Eleanor' s urn.

With a horrifying crash, the urn toppled, spilling Eleanor' s ashes across the floor in a sickening grey cloud.

Amelia froze, horror washing over her.

Jessica stared at the scattered ashes, her face a mask of panic.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God, no."

The crash, Jessica's shriek – it brought them running.

Ethan was the first to arrive, his face thunderous. His aunts and uncles crowded behind him.

He took in the scene: Amelia standing, Jessica on the floor, tears streaming down her face, and Eleanor' s ashes... everywhere.

"Amelia!" Ethan roared, his voice raw with pain and rage. "What in God's name have you done?"

He didn't ask. He accused. Instantly.

Jessica, ever the actress, burst into theatrical sobs.

"Ethan, oh, Ethan!" she cried, pointing a trembling finger at Amelia. "She attacked me! I tried to stop her, but she... she knocked over Grandmother' s urn! She said... she said Eleanor deserved it for forcing you to marry her!"

The lie was monstrous, but delivered with such convincing hysteria that the onlookers gasped.

Amelia opened her mouth to speak, to deny, but no words came. The audacity of the lie, the sheer malice, stole her breath.

The Caldwell clan erupted.

"Monstrous!"

"She needs to be punished!"

"Call the police!"

Aunt Caroline, her face contorted with rage, pointed at Amelia. "In my day, a woman like this would be horsewhipped!"

The venom in their voices was palpable. They had always wanted to believe the worst of her. Jessica had just handed them the justification on a silver platter.

Ethan strode towards Amelia, his eyes blazing with a cold fire she had seen too many times in her past life.

"You will pay for this, Amelia," he said, his voice dangerously low.

He listed her supposed crimes, his voice ringing with condemnation: "Disrespecting my grandmother' s memory. Assaulting Jessica. Desecrating this sacred space."

He grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh. "You are a disgrace to this family, to Eleanor's name."

He didn't even consider her side. He never did.

"Ethan, no, listen to me," Amelia pleaded, trying to pull her arm free. "Jessica is lying! She broke the flower, she-"

Ethan' s face hardened. "Silence!"

He shoved her, hard. Amelia stumbled back, her head connecting sharply with the stone wall.

Stars exploded behind her eyes.

The pain was immediate, intense.

Through a haze of dizziness, she saw Ethan turn away from her.

He knelt beside Jessica, his expression softening instantly.

"Are you alright, Jess?" he murmured, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. "Did she hurt you?"

His tenderness towards Jessica, even as Amelia' s head throbbed, was a deeper wound than any physical blow.

That gentle touch, that concerned gaze – it was everything Amelia had ever yearned for, and it was directed at the woman who had just orchestrated her utter humiliation.

The injustice of it all was a bitter pill.

Amelia slid down the wall, the strength ebbing from her limbs.

The room swam.

Ethan' s voice, cold and distant, cut through the fog. "Get her out of here. I don't want to see her face again."

Rough hands hauled her to her feet.

She was dragged, unceremoniously, from the alcove, past the horrified, judgmental stares of the Caldwells.

The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Ethan cradling Jessica' s hand.

Amelia awoke hours later, alone, in a guest room she didn't recognize.

Her head throbbed relentlessly. A large, tender bruise was forming on her temple.

The physical pain was a stark, brutal reminder of Ethan' s cruelty, his blind devotion to Jessica, and her own utter isolation within the Caldwell family.

She was truly, utterly alone in this.

But a cold resolve settled in her heart. This was the final straw. There would be no more chances, no more hope for Ethan.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from an unknown number.

It was a picture: Ethan and Jessica, champagne glasses raised, a luxurious hotel suite in the background.

The caption: "Celebrating new beginnings. Some people just can't handle it when others are happy. ;) - J"

Another message followed: "Ethan says to tell you he hopes you learned your lesson. He' s so sweet when he' s protective."

Amelia stared at the messages, no tears, no anger. Just a profound, weary emptiness.

Jessica wouldn' t stop. Ethan wouldn' t see.

Amelia rose, wincing. She found a trash can.

One by one, she began to discard the remnants of her past life with Ethan that she still carried, even in this reborn one.

A small, framed photo of them on their wedding day – Eleanor had insisted. Amelia smashed the glass and tore the photo in half.

A delicate gold locket Ethan had given her on their first (and only) anniversary, a perfunctory gift. She snapped the chain.

Letters she had written to him, filled with unexpressed love and hope, never sent. She tore them into tiny pieces.

Each act was a severing, a letting go.

The door opened without a knock. Ethan stood there, his suit jacket off, tie loosened.

He surveyed the room, the discarded items, Amelia by the trash can.

A sneer touched his lips. "More dramatics, Amelia? Trying to make me feel guilty by destroying your little trinkets? It won't work."

He thought this was another plea for his attention, another manipulative game.

He still didn't understand. He never would.

Amelia looked at him, a genuine smile, faint but real, touching her lips.

"Actually, Ethan," she said, her voice calm, almost light. "I'm just tidying up."

She met his gaze directly. "I'm rather looking forward to the divorce being finalized. The thought of being completely free of you, of all of this... it' s quite exhilarating."

The smile widened, and for the first time, it reached her eyes, shining with a cold, hard brilliance.

Ethan' s sneer faltered. He took a step into the room, his eyes narrowing.

"What did you say?" he demanded, grabbing her arm, his grip tight.

Amelia didn't flinch. She looked down at his hand on her arm, then back up at his face.

"I said," she enunciated clearly, "I. Want. You. Out. Of. My. Life. Forever."

She pulled her arm free, not with force, but with a quiet, unshakeable resolve that seemed to momentarily stun him.

"Is that clear enough for you, Ethan?"