Chapter 4

The Vance mansion library was Ethan' s preferred place for difficult conversations. It felt like a courtroom.

Cassie was already there, perched on a velvet armchair, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Feigned vulnerability. It was her best weapon.

Ethan stood by the fireplace, his back to me when I entered. He turned, his face grim.

He didn't look at my sprained ankle, still tender from the fire incident weeks ago, an incident where he' d saved Cassie first. He didn't ask about my ribs, still aching from his careless champagne flute.

His concern was solely for Cassie.

"Amelia," he began, his voice tight. "Cassie is very distressed."

The dramatic irony was thick enough to choke on. My suffering was invisible.

"She says you filed a complaint against her with the Historical Society," Ethan accused, his eyes hard. "Claiming she had you fired. She showed me her hand, Amelia. She says you pushed her during an argument about it, and she scraped it trying to catch her balance."

Cassie sniffled, holding out a delicate hand that showed a faint red mark, barely a scratch. "I wouldn't dream of interfering with your... hobbies, Amelia. I was just so shocked you'd accuse me."

Her voice was a masterpiece of wounded innocence.

"Ethan, I just want this to stop," Cassie whispered, looking at him with wide, tearful eyes.

He turned to me. "Did you push her, Amelia? Did you cause this?"

The pressure was immense. He wanted a confession. He wanted me to be the villain.

My righteous anger flared. The injustice was suffocating.

"Pushed her?" I repeated, my voice rising. "She orchestrates my public humiliation, gets me fired from something I love, and I' m the one on trial for a scratch on her hand?"

I looked directly at Ethan. "What about my life, Ethan? What about the constant undermining? The isolation? You see her supposed pain so clearly. Are you blind to mine?"

I turned the accusation back. "And how did she even know I filed a complaint so quickly unless she was involved? Are you so sure she' s the innocent victim here, Ethan?"

His hypocrisy, his lack of empathy, it was a gaping wound.

Ethan dismissed my counter-accusations with a wave of his hand.

"Cassie would never lie to me about something like this. She' s been through enough." His loyalty to her was absolute, unshakeable.

Cassie then rose, a picture of magnanimity. She walked towards me.

"Amelia, dear," she said, her voice soft, but her eyes held a glint of triumph. "Perhaps we both said things we regret. Let' s not trouble Ethan with this further."

She lightly touched his arm as she passed him, a subtle reminder of her power, her connection. "I' m sure Amelia didn' t mean any real harm."

It was a superficial act of reconciliation, but it reeked of her continued manipulation. I felt unheard, my anger turning to frustration.

Cassie, feigning a need for fresh air, excused herself, leaving me alone with Ethan. Strategic.

He sighed, the stern mask dropping slightly, replaced by a weary look.

"Amelia," he said, his voice softer now, attempting to coerce. "Cassie is... fragile right now. My father' s passing, the estate... it' s a lot for her to handle. She needs support, not conflict."

He stepped closer. "Can' t you just... apologize? For the misunderstanding? Smooth things over. For me?"

He was promising conditional affection with his eyes, with the slight softening of his tone. If I played along, if I accommodated Cassie, maybe he' d be kind to me.

The cynicism tasted bitter. "And what about me, Ethan? Who supports me?"

"Do you even love me, Ethan?" The question slipped out, raw and desperate.

He looked surprised, then his expression softened into something that almost resembled affection. "Of course, I do, Amelia. You know that." A superficial affirmation.

Just then, his phone rang. Urgent.

His face changed instantly. "What? Is she okay?"

He listened, his knuckles white as he gripped the phone. "A small fire? In the guest wing? Cassie was there?"

He didn't even glance at me.

"I'm on my way."

He hung up, already moving towards the door.

His first instinct, his only instinct, was Cassie.

He rushed out, leaving me standing alone in the vast library, his superficial "I love you" echoing mockingly in the silence.

Abandonment. Again. Shock, then despair. This was my life.