Julian looked at Amelia and Victoria with a meaningful smile and asked slyly, "Could it be that Mr. Charleston's wife is-"
"It's none of your business," Damien interrupted, clearly unwilling to discuss his family affairs.
Julian nodded calmly, responding, "I apologize. These days, open marriages are quite common. Mr. Charleston, you must be..."
He paused and smirked before sarcastically saying, "Don't worry, I know when to stop."
Before Damien could get angry, Julian turned to leave. As he walked away, he added, "If you ever need a divorce, come to me. I'll give you a discount."
Damien instinctively glanced at Amelia, his voice cold as he spoke, "My wife and I have a good relationship."
Julian was already gone, so it was unclear if he had heard.
But Victoria definitely did.
She leaned against Damien, pretending to be drunk. Her eyes were watery as she whispered, "Damien ... Am I disturbing you and your wife?"
Before he could answer, her eyes turned red and she struggled to pull away.
"You’re not my brother anymore ... You have your own family now ... I shouldn’t interfere. I should go back to my hotel instead."
Damien held her tighter.
His voice was so soft it could melt ice as he responded, "I’m not your brother anymore ... But you are always welcome to be with me."
His burning gaze made Victoria’s face turn even redder. Meanwhile, Amelia stood aside. She watched them as if she were just an outsider.
Finally, Damien seemed to remember her presence. Letting go of Victoria, he looked at Amelia with guilt.
"Baby ... You don’t mind, do you? Victoria is my sister, after all."
He had already planned how to comfort Amelia if she got jealous.
But she only smiled faintly and said, "I don’t mind."
Those three words were light, but they felt like a knife stabbing into her own heart.
The next morning, Amelia woke up and instinctively reached for the other side of the bed. Damien was already gone. She put on her nightgown and walked barefoot to the third-floor hallway, looking down toward Victoria’s room on the second floor.
Through the half-open door, she saw Damien carefully feeding Victoria a bowl of hangover juice.
When Victoria frowned and pouted, Damien gently blew on the spoon to cool it. When she complained about her messy hair, he picked up a comb and skillfully tied a beautiful ponytail for her.
Amelia’s nails dug deep into her palm when she saw it.
Then, Amelia remembered when she had stomach bleeding after a drinking party. The next morning, Damien only asked the maid to make her chicken noodle soup. She had once asked him to tie her hair into a simple ponytail, but he had said, "I don’t know how to do it."
Amelia stood frozen in place until Damien finally took Victoria out of the room.
Her legs were numb, but she stubbornly refused to move.
She didn’t want to go downstairs and see them. She didn’t want to feel like a foolish extra, a useless villain in their so-called love story. It was just like those romance novels she hated the most.
Perhaps because she was lost in thought, Amelia didn’t see the steps clearly as she walked downstairs. She stumbled. Then, she fell heavily.
"Ah!"
A sharp pain spread through her abdomen. She curled up on the ground, feeling a warm liquid slowly flowing from between her legs.
Her face turned pale instantly. With trembling fingers, she touched her lower abdomen. A terrifying thought crossed her mind.
"Madam!"
The maid rushed over in panic. When the maid saw the blood spreading on the floor, she became flustered.
"I-I’ll call an ambulance right away!"
The sound of sirens broke the quiet morning.
At the hospital, a nurse anxiously asked, "Where is the patient’s guardian? We need a family member to sign the consent form!"
The maid stomped her foot in frustration as she answered the nurse, "I-I called her husband over ten times, but he didn’t answer … "
She quickly picked up Amelia’s phone and continued, "I even called him seventeen times using my mistress’ phone ... but still, no answer … "
On the hospital bed, Amelia weakly opened her eyes and grabbed the nurse’s sleeve.
"I ... will sign it myself … I don’t want the child … "
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried a crushing weight.
Amelia remembered how Damien had told her to prepare for pregnancy just two months ago. She hadn’t been careful with contraception. This child had come unexpectedly.
Now, it was leaving unexpectedly.
The doctor spoke seriously, "The situation is very dangerous. The child may not survive, but we can try-"
"There’s no need," Amelia whispered, closing her eyes.
Tears slipped silently down her face. On the cold operating table, the bright surgical light burned her eyes. The instruments made sharp, mechanical sounds and every movement felt like a piece of her flesh was being cut away.
Amelia bit her lip until she tasted blood, refusing to make a sound. She refused to cry. She refused to feel.
