Chapter 5 Chapter 5 Take Your Trash and Leave

Watching her mother, Eleanor, get humiliated to the point her face went pale, Calliope felt like something had clenched her heart in a death grip.

Without thinking, she stepped forward, grabbed her mother's icy arm, and protectively pulled her to stand behind her. Lifting her chin, her gaze locked onto Lucien-he looked calm, but she knew he was the one pulling all the strings.

"Lucien," she said, voice sharp as a blade, "does it feel good? Throwing away your fiancée who gave you seven years of her life, dragging her family's dignity through the mud, all just to play out your epic love story with Miss Miller? Real classy move."

Lucien felt a strange jolt under that cold stare-something uneasy stirred in him.

The Calliope standing in front of him was nothing like the sweet, dependent girl he used to know.

"Calliope! Hate me if you must, curse me all you want. But don't take it out on Angie. This... all of this was my choice. I messed up. If you need to blame someone, it should be me."

When she heard that, Calliope actually laughed-it was cold, sharp, and completely void of warmth. "Wow. You really think you're that important, huh? Honestly, I just feel gross. Gross that I was ever blind enough to think you were someone I could trust with my life. Let me be crystal clear-Lucien, even if none of this drama went down today, I wouldn't have gone through with that wedding anyway."

"What?" Lucien completely froze. The grief and guilt he'd carefully rehearsed were instantly wiped from his face, replaced by shock.

He had imagined her crying, yelling, maybe even losing it. But this? This calm, indifferent coldness? This wasn't part of the script.

An absurd, intrusive thought hit him like a truck.

Did Calliope... come back in time, too?

No way. That's ridiculous. And yet-if not, how else could she seem like a totally different person?

Lucien stared at her, searching her face, desperate for any sign that could explain this unrecognizable version of her.

Right then, Angelina, who had been hiding behind Lucien the entire time, finally stepped forward, like she'd barely mustered the courage.

Her eyes welled up with tears in an instant, her voice choked as she said, "Calliope... I'm so sorry. It's all my fault, I know. I get that you probably don't want to hear a word from me right now, but I really value the bond we had like sisters. I never wanted to hurt you... really."

She reached out a hand, trying to grab Calliope's, her posture pitiful and full of guilt.

But Calliope didn't even bat an eye-completely acting like Angelina didn't exist.

That kind of cold shoulder hurt more than any insult. Angelina's hand froze awkwardly mid-air as her face flushed and paled over and over.

"Calliope!" Jonathan finally snapped, his temper flaring again the moment he saw his beloved Angelina being ignored. "How could you be so rude?! She's apologizing to you out of kindness-you call this a proper attitude? Is this what I've taught you?!"

"That's enough, Jonathan!"

Eleanor moved immediately, stepping in front of her daughter protectively. Her back straightened, gaze sharp as a blade, locking directly onto her husband.

"My daughter doesn't need your discipline-especially not for the sake of someone who isn't even family. I've heard enough of your crap today. She doesn't belong here. Not in my home. Not around my daughter. Not while I'm still breathing."

Eleanor turned her eyes on Angelina, whose face had gone ghostly pale. Though her fingers trembled, they pointed firmly toward the door. "Angelina, our home's too small to accommodate someone like you. Out of respect for your mother's memory, I'm giving you a shred of dignity-leave. Now."

With that, she didn't even glance at Jonathan, whose face had gone completely dark. Instead, she called out in a commanding tone to the maids standing in the living room corner: "Dorothy! Lisa! Go pack Miss Miller's things. Show her the door!"

"Eleanor, don't you dare!" Jonathan yelled, trying to stop her.

Eleanor stared straight back, full of defiance. "I've been your wife for twenty-three years. Raised your child, kept this home, never once let you down or disrespected the Godfrey name. And what do I get today? This? You humiliate me and hurt our daughter. If we no longer matter to you, then I don't owe you any more loyalty or face."

When she finished, she never looked at Jonathan again. Her eyes stayed fixed on the staff, her voice snapping like a whip. "Dorothy, go now. And I dare anyone here to get in my way."