Afraid Irina might change her mind and leave, Chad immediately ordered the servants to move her luggage into the largest guest room.

Yara turned to Amelia with a smug sneer. "What are you standing there for? Go make dinner. Oh, and keep it mild—Irina can't handle spicy food."

In this house, even with servants around, it was always Amelia doing the cooking.

Chad was impossibly picky, his standards so high that even Michelin-starred chefs failed to impress him. Somehow, he tolerated Amelia's cooking, though he barely ate more than a few bites. Yara would sometimes join but mostly just complained about the food.

This time, Amelia didn't move. She shook her head lightly and said something that froze everyone in place.

"I can't."

Chad turned to her, frowning. In all the years he'd known her, she had never refused a single thing his family asked. Not once.

Before he could say anything, Irina's eyes filled with tears. She bit her lip and looked down, her voice trembling. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have come here. I'm just an outsider—it's not fair to make Amelia cook for me."

She turned as if to head upstairs, but Chad grabbed her arm.

"This isn't about you," he said, his tone firm.

He turned back to Amelia, his voice colder now. "You said you weren't upset. So, what's this?"

Amelia raised her hand, her fingers wrapped in bandages. Her voice stayed calm. "I'm hurt. I can't touch water for a while."

In reality, her hands were fine. But the contract was over, and she had no intention of wasting her energy on Chad or his family anymore. The bandages were an easy way out.

The room sank into an awkward silence.

Amelia had always handled the chores, so the servants usually left when their shifts ended. Now, with no one to cook, the Feltons were stuck. Even calling the staff back would take too long.

Yara scowled. "If you were hurt, why didn't you say something earlier? Were you planning to let us starve?"

She stepped forward, ready to snap, but Irina gently held her back. "Yara, don't be like that," she said softly.

Irina turned to Chad, her tone soft. "Chad, remember that restaurant by our high school? The one we used to go to after evening classes? How about we eat there tonight?"

Chad's irritation melted away instantly. "Yeah, I'll take you."

As they headed out, they brought Amelia along.

On the drive, Chad kept the conversation lively with Irina and Yara in the backseat.

They dove into stories about their high school days, their laughter filling the car. Irina's smile brightened as the memories poured out, and even Yara joined in, cracking jokes here and there.

In the middle of it all, Irina suddenly turned to Amelia, who sat quietly in the front seat. Flashing a kind smile, she said, "Amelia, sorry about that. We're not ignoring you—it's just... you weren't part of those memories."

'Not just those memories, ' Amelia thought. 'I won't be part of their future, either.'

"Mm," she murmured softly, closing her eyes as she leaned back.

Chad glanced at Amelia, a flicker of unease crossing his face. Something about her felt... different.

When they got to the restaurant, Amelia quietly excused herself to use the restroom.

She splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her long, wavy hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her pale skin seemed even paler under the harsh lights. But no amount of light could hide the exhaustion etched into her features.

Five years of marriage had left Irina radiant and full of life. For Amelia, it had done the opposite.

"Just a little longer," she told herself. Soon, she'd be free.

When she returned to the private dining room, the others were already ordering.

"The soup should be a clear broth. Irina doesn't eat meat, so add extra vegetables—no cilantro," Chad said, glancing over the menu.

He still remembered Irina's preferences perfectly, even after all these years.

Then, almost like an afterthought, he turned to Amelia. "Amelia, is there anything you don't eat?"

It was the first time he'd ever asked in five years.

Amelia sat calmly across the table, wiping her plate and utensils with a napkin. "Anything's fine, as long as it's not seafood."

Throughout the meal, Chad barely touched his food, his attention fixed on Irina. He kept adding dishes to her plate, making sure she had everything she liked.

Midway through, the peaceful atmosphere shattered as an argument broke out at the next table. Voices escalated into shouts, and then fists started flying.

Nearby patrons tried to step in, but one of the men, clearly losing control, grabbed a steaming bowl of soup and hurled it at his opponent.

The target ducked just in time, and the soup went flying—straight toward Chad's table.

Amid the chaos and panicked screams, Chad acted instantly, pulling Irina into his arms to shield her.

Amelia, caught completely off guard, had no time to react. She could only watch as the scalding soup hurtled toward her.

"Ah!"

The soup drenched Amelia, the boiling liquid searing her skin. Her arms turned bright red as blisters began forming almost instantly. The pain was excruciating. She couldn't even find her voice to cry out.

"Amelia!"

Chad released Irina and rushed to her, his face twisting with panic—the kind of panic Amelia had never seen from him before. "Does it hurt? I'll take you to the hospital!"

Amelia lifted her trembling gaze to him, her whole body shaking from the pain. She wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't come.

"Oh my God, Irina, look how badly you're hurt!" Yara shrieked.

Chad's focus snapped back to Irina. He rushed to her side, his panic visibly escalating, only to find a few drops of hot oil on her arm.

To Chad, the scene looked "devastating."

Irina gently pulled her arm back, tears brimming in her eyes as she shook her head. "I'm fine. Amelia seems worse—take her to the hospital first."

Yara stomped her foot. "What do you mean you're fine? You've been pampered your whole life! A scratch leaves you crying for days. Chad, what are you waiting for? Take Irina to the hospital!"

She jabbed a finger at the quarreling diners. "Are you insane? If you're going to fight, do it outside! Look at what you've done—you've hurt Irina! My brother will not let this slide!"

Irina's soft whimpers started breaking through, though she still insisted, "I'll be okay, Chad. Really. Amelia's hurt worse—you should check on her."

Her words might have been selfless, but her frail, teary demeanor hit Chad like a freight train. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and headed for the exit.

At the door, he paused, glancing back briefly at Amelia, who sat trembling in pain. "Irina's always been delicate, and she's afraid of pain," he said apologetically. "The hospital's not far. You can grab a cab and meet us there."

Then he disappeared with Irina in his arms.

For a long moment, Amelia sat frozen in disbelief, her skin on fire from the burns. Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to focus through the agony.

A server rushed over, clearly shaken, and apologized profusely while helping to treat her wounds with a first aid kit.

After taking some painkillers, the worst of the agony dulled to a manageable throb. Borrowing a change of clothes from the restaurant staff, Amelia dressed carefully before stepping outside to hail a cab to the hospital.

...

At the hospital, the doctor carefully tended to her burns, pressing a cotton swab to the blisters to drain them. "Apply this medication daily," he instructed, "and it should heal without scarring."

Amelia clenched her eyes shut, biting back the pain as he worked. Nearby, two nurses passed by, their conversation carrying through the quiet hallway.

"Mr. Felton really dotes on Ms. Baxter," one said. "A few drops of hot oil, and he booked an entire floor, calling in every dermatologist for a consultation."

"Right?" the other replied with a soft laugh. "Her injury was so minor it would've healed on its own. If only I could find a man that attentive!"

"Keep dreaming," the first nurse joked. "A man like that? One in a million."

One in a million.

Amelia let out a faint smile.

A man who abandoned his severely injured wife to coddle someone with a few drops of oil? He truly was one of a kind.

Once her burns were treated and bandaged, she thanked the doctor and walked out of the hospital into the dark night. Alone.

The second Amelia walked out of the hospital, her phone buzzed. Ding! An email.

It was from the art academy she'd applied to—she got in. Oh, and by the way, they wanted an original piece for enrollment.

After five years, she was finally picking up a paintbrush again.

She bought some fresh supplies and, instead of heading back to the Felton mansion, she drove straight to Moonridge Peak.

The view was straight-up stunning—calm lakes tucked between rolling hills, their glassy surfaces mirroring the mountains like nature showing off.

It wasn't just peaceful; it felt like hitting the reset button.

Amelia let out a deep breath, and for the first time in years, the weight of everything just... disappeared. All that was left was a long-lost sense of freedom.

She let her brush hit the canvas, and the scenery practically painted itself. No noise, no interruptions—just the wind and the birds calling out like they got the memo about peace.

Three days flew by in this little bubble of quiet.

When she finally climbed down to mail off the painting, she turned her phone back on.

Cue the avalanche—missed calls and texts, all from Chad.

This was new.

She used to be the one doing all the calling and texting, always getting his voicemail or, worse, radio silence. The guy barely cared enough to return a missed call.

While she stared at her screen, still processing, Yara's name lit up.

The second Amelia answered, Yara's shrill voice exploded. "Amelia! Where the hell have you been? Chad's losing his mind looking for you!

"Don't think this little disappearing act will make him care. Keep dreaming! The only 'lady' of my family is Irina!"

Before Amelia could even get a word in, Yara hung up.

She blinked, frowning.

Wait... Chad was frantically looking for her? That couldn't be right.

Her eyes drifted to the 108 missed calls. Okay, maybe it was right.

Still trying to piece everything together, Amelia pulled into the driveway and stepped out, sketch board in hand.

The second her feet hit the ground, the villa's staff practically mobbed her. Their faces screamed relief, and a few looked like they'd been one bad day away from crying.

"You're finally back! The house has been chaos without you. Mr. Felton hasn't liked anything we've done—he's been impossible!"

Ah. There it was.

This wasn't about her. Chad didn't care where she'd been; he just couldn't function without his built-in caretaker.

Too bad for him. He'd better get used to it because soon, she'd be out of his life for good.

Amelia gave them a polite smile and headed inside.

The villa was dark, not even a lamp on. Chad was sitting alone on the couch, moonlight cutting across his face and throwing half of it into shadow. It made him look as unreadable as ever.

When he heard her footsteps, his eyes snapped to hers, lingering for what felt like forever. His voice broke the silence, low and sharp. "Where have you been the last few days?"

Amelia shrugged off her coat, her tone as flat as her mood. "Up in the mountains. Sketching."

Chad's brows pinched. "Since when are you into painting?"

She'd always been good at art. If it weren't for her whole 'sacrificing-my-dreams-for-you phase', she'd have been abroad, living her dream as an artist.

But explaining that to Chad? Pointless.

She grabbed a glass of water, took a sip, and replied casually, "I just felt like it."

Chad pressed his fingers to his temple, his voice softening like he was trying to reason with a stubborn child. "About the soup thing—I didn't leave you on purpose. Irina's always been... delicate. She cries over the tiniest scratch. We grew up together, so I'm used to taking care of her. That's why I took her to the hospital first.

"Besides, you didn't say anything at the time, so why make a fuss and leave? Irina's moved out now that her place is ready. Don't blow this out of proportion over something so minor."

His tone carried just enough blame to make it clear—he thought this was her fault. Not just for leaving, but for somehow making Irina move out early, too.

But Amelia didn't care anymore. She just nodded, set her glass down, and headed for the stairs.

"Amelia!" Chad called after her.

She stopped and turned, watching as he stood from the couch. "I'm hungry. Make me some pasta."

Without a word, Amelia raised her bandaged hand. "Did you forget? My hand's injured too."

Chad froze, clearly not expecting that.

Not that she stuck around to see his reaction. She turned and walked upstairs without a second glance.

...

The next morning, Amelia stepped out of her room and was met with something shiny and gaudy shoved in her face.

She blinked and looked up to see Chad standing there, looking a little... awkward.

He cleared his throat. "About the soup incident... I didn't check on you because I was busy taking care of Irina. This is to make up for it."

Amelia's eyes flicked to the jewelry, her expression shifting ever so slightly.

Five years.

In all that time, Chad had never given her a gift—not once.

And now, this wasn't even a real gift. It was compensation. A shiny bribe for the time he spent doting on Irina instead of even pretending to care about her.

Her thoughts wandered to the pile of perfectly curated gifts she'd seen in Chad's study—every single one meant for Irina. Bitterness rose in her chest, sharp and familiar, but she swallowed it back down.

She'd never expected anything from him before. She definitely wasn't starting now.

Chad misread her hesitation entirely.

"If you don't like it..." he started. "I've been busy with Irina's... matters. I asked Leon to grab the most expensive piece at the auction. If it's not your style, then—"

Leon. His assistant. Of course.

Before he could finish, Yara's voice cut through the room.

"Irina! What did I tell you? Chad adores you! You never should've moved out. But even if you did, you should visit more often!"

Amelia turned, just in time to see Yara dragging Irina into the room.

Then Yara's eyes locked on the jewelry box in Chad's hands, and her entire face lit up.

"Oh my God, Chad! Irina just said how much she loved this set, and you actually got it for her!"

She turned to Irina, practically vibrating with envy.

Irina flushed, her cheeks turning the color of rose quartz as she ducked her head in shy embarrassment.

Chad froze. For a split second, something like hesitation flickered in his eyes.

Without missing a beat, Amelia took the jewelry box from Chad and handed it to Irina.

"Since it's for you, then take it," she said, her voice calm.

The decision Chad couldn't make? She'd made it for him.

For the first time, Chad didn't look at Irina. His gaze stayed on Amelia instead.

There was something about the way she carried herself now—graceful, unbothered. It threw him off.

She wasn't the same Amelia anymore, but he couldn't quite figure out how.