Chapter 4 Shattered Glass, Silent Goodbyes

Amelia didn't remember how she got home.

The world outside the cab was a blur of lights and London drizzle, but inside, her silence screamed. The tears had stopped, her body had run dry, but her chest ached like something had caved in. She clutched her bag tightly, as though it were the last thread holding her together.

Alexander was going to marry Lady Isabella Wycliffe. Of course he was. She was everything Amelia wasn't. Elegant. Untouched by hardship. Born into money, adored by his family. They'd attended the same private schools, vacationed in the same elite circles, probably even drank tea with the Queen.

Amelia was just the mistake he made before committing to perfection.

She pressed her forehead against the cold cab window, heart raw.

How could someone make you feel like the center of their universe and then replace you in a blink?

How could he?

She let herself into her shared flat quietly. Her flatmate wasn't home, a small blessing. Amelia walked into her room, pulled off her coat, and stared blankly at the floor.

His touch was still on her skin.

His words still echoed in her mind.

"You're not just anyone to me, Amelia."

"You make me forget everything else."

Lies. Every last one of them.

Without thinking, she reached for the bedside table and pulled out the small silver bracelet he had given her the night he kissed her for the first time. The memory crashed into her like a wave.

They were in his penthouse, laughing over wine. He'd reached across the marble counter, brushed hair from her face, and clipped the bracelet onto her wrist.

"Something simple," he had said. "But it suits you. Honest. Beautiful."

She had smiled like a girl in a dream. She had believed him.

Now, she tore it off.

It clinked onto the wooden floor like shattered glass. She stared at it, daring herself to pick it up, but her arms refused to move.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Lucy, her flatmate.

You okay? I saw something online... Alexander is engaged??"

Amelia swallowed hard. News travels fast when you're London's youngest billionaire.

"I'm fine," she typed, fingers trembling. "Long day."

The next morning, Amelia sat curled on the sofa with a mug of tea gone cold. Her eyes were hollow from lack of sleep.

And then it hit her.

She had no job.

She had lied her way into Langford Enterprises, posing as an assistant, slipping into the role when the real PA had called in sick. A few white lies, a lot of nerve, and a little desperation had landed her the chance of a lifetime.

And now, it was over.

She couldn't go back. Not after the kiss. Not after the night they spent tangled in each other's arms.

Not after the press conference.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time, it was from a blocked number.

"Amelia. We need to talk. Please. "

She stared at the message, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

No. Not now.

She blocked the number.

Outside, London moved on. Taxis honked, umbrellas bumped along the sidewalk, and somewhere in the distance, church bells rang.

But in Amelia's world, everything had come to a standstill.

She curled her knees to her chest.

If she ever saw Alexander Langford again, she swore she wouldn't fall for that voice, those eyes, or that charm.

She would remember how it felt to be discarded.

And the next time she gave her heart away, it wouldn't be to someone who saw her as a secret.

But fate... fate had already started working on the next twist in her story.

And it had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with what she didn't know was growing inside her.