Chapter 3 The Night Everything Changed

The invitation came in a white envelope, crisp and formal, resting on Amelia's desk like it didn't belong there.

"Mr. Langford requests your presence at tonight's charity gala," the note read in perfect serif font. No signature. No explanation. Just an expectation.

She reread it twice. Was this a mistake? Assistants didn't attend billion-dollar galas in gowns. They managed phone calls, not champagne flutes.

And yet... he had asked.

Later that night, The Royal Glasshouse shimmered with lights and opulence. Laughter floated in the air. Paparazzi buzzed at the entrance as London's elite spilled onto the red carpet in gowns and tuxedos worth more than Amelia's life savings.

She stood near the edge of the crowd, clutching a borrowed clutch and wearing a midnight blue dress she'd found in the back of a consignment boutique. It hugged her waist and flared at the hem, simple but elegant. She felt like an imposter in velvet skin.

And then, he appeared.

Alexander emerged from a sleek black Rolls-Royce, every inch of him sculpted in a tailored tux. The photographers roared his name, but he barely glanced their way.

His eyes found her instantly.

"Amelia," he said as he approached, voice lower than usual. "You clean up well."

She blushed. "You invited me."

"I did. But I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I wasn't sure either."

He offered her his arm. She took it.

Inside the Gala, Chandeliers glowed above them as a string quartet played a soft waltz. Everything sparkled the walls, the wine, the women. But to Amelia, it all faded behind the man beside her.

They didn't talk about work, just a man and a woman surrounded by strangers.

"I don't usually do this," he admitted as they stood near the balcony.

"Do what?"

"Talk. Feel." He looked out over the city. "My world's full of deals and deception. People love me for my name, not who I am. But with you... it's quiet."

Amelia's heart pounded. "You don't even know who I really am."

"Then tell me."

She opened her mouth. The truth hovered on her tongue, the lie about the job, the fake resume, the assistant she wasn't supposed to be.

But he stepped closer. His hand brushed her cheek.

"Don't," he whispered. "Let's just have tonight."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't urgent or showy. It was slow, searching, like a man trying to remember how it felt to be human.

The next morning, Amelia arrived at the office early, her heart still fluttering from the night before. But the mood had changed.

People whispered.

Isabella walked past her with a smug smile.

Then came the intercom buzz. "Amelia. My office. Now."

She entered, her stomach tightening. Alexander stood at the window, stiff and unreadable.

He turned.

"We need to talk," he said coldly. "About boundaries. About professionalism. About last night."

She blinked. "What-?"

"It shouldn't have happened. I crossed a line. And... I'm getting engaged."

Her world cracked.

"To who?"

He hesitated.

"Lady Isabella."

Amelia staggered. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"You kissed me."

"And I regret it."

"No," she whispered, "you don't."

He looked away.

"It's for the company. The board approves. The family expects it. I have responsibilities, Amelia. And I can't throw them away for a mistake."

She stood in silence, her heart splintering.

Then she nodded.

"I understand."

But inside, she didn't understand anything.

As she stepped out of the office, pale and trembling, Isabella leaned against the wall with a satisfied smile.

"Poor girl," she said softly. "Next time, don't reach for things above your station."

Amelia didn't reply.

She walked straight to the elevator, face blank