Amelia couldn't sleep the entire night.

At dawn, she got up and made breakfast. This time, it was only for herself. She no longer prepared anything for Damien like before.

When Damien came out of the bedroom, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered his head to kiss her forehead.

Amelia turned her head slightly, avoiding his touch.

"What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?" Damien asked, noticing her change right away.

Amelia lowered her head, feeling a lump in her throat. She almost couldn’t hold back her tears. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to stay calm.

"I'm just hungry," she said.

Damien didn’t ask any further. He never cared much about the morning kiss anyway. It was always Amelia who wanted it, not him.

He sat down, picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

"By the way, which company did you work with for yesterday’s deal? I don’t think I asked."

Amelia remained calm. "It was the Weston Corporation. Do you want to see the contract?"

Damien paused for a moment. Just when Amelia’s palms started to sweat, he suddenly smiled and ruffled her hair.

"I trust you," he said casually.

Amelia lowered her gaze, feeling an ache in her chest.

For a long time, she had wished that Damien would care about her work, that he would take the time to guide her, ask about the risks, or offer advice. But that was only a dream.

After breakfast, as they got into the car, Damien’s phone rang. It was Victoria.

On the other end, her voice trembled as she sobbed, "Damien, my husband’s family is blocking the hotel entrance. They’re on their knees, refusing to let me divorce him. I… I don’t know what to do…"

Damien’s expression darkened immediately. He pressed down on the accelerator, making the car lurch forward.

"Don’t be scared. Stay in your room and don’t come out. I’m on my way," he reassured her.

Amelia tightened her grip on her seatbelt, her face turning pale.

"Damien, slow down! It’s too dangerous!"

Damien seemed to remember she was there. He slammed the brakes and turned to her.

"Take a taxi to the company by yourself. I have to go."

Before Amelia could respond, he sped off again, running a red light in his rush to get to Victoria. Amelia stood by the side of the road, feeling like a discarded doll. She took a deep breath, flagged down a taxi and headed to the office.

The entire day, she stayed busy.

Amelia worked as usual, but at the same time, she slowly started letting go of her responsibilities, of her attachment to Damien and of the life she had clung to for five years.

By the time it was nearly evening, Damien returned to the office. He seemed happy, as if all his worries had vanished. Meanwhile, Amelia entered his office to report work. As she stepped closer, she caught the faint scent of Victoria’s perfume on him.

While flipping through the documents, Damien suddenly glanced at her empty ring finger and asked, "Why did you take off your ring?"

Amelia remained calm as she answered his question, "Didn’t you ask me not to wear it? You didn’t want anyone to find out. And you never wore yours."

"Really?" Damien responded in turn and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

If Damien had thought about it carefully, he would have realized how unusual it was for Amelia who always wanted people to know they were married—to take off her ring.

But he didn’t think much of it. Instead, he simply smiled, his mind clearly elsewhere. His mind might be still lingering on his time with Victoria.

Amelia chuckled to herself, left his office and took out her phone. Victoria had just posted a vlog on her social account. In one clip, Damien stood in the kitchen, wearing an apron, cooking with a focused expression.

Damien never liked to cook. Amelia had been the one to learn, putting in effort to make his meals just right. Now, she realized the truth. The truth was that Damien wasn’t unwilling to cook. It was because he just didn’t want to cook for her.

After that, Amelia walked to the lake behind the company. The water sparkled under the fading sunlight, but she only felt cold. She then pulled the ring from her pocket, holding it in her palm, feeling the last remnants of its warmth.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

With all her strength, she threw the ring into the lake. It arced through the air before sinking into the water, disappearing forever.

Taking a deep breath, Amelia turned away. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked forward, her head held high. She was done looking back.

After a meeting, Damien looked at the unfamiliar woman standing beside him and frowned slightly.

"Who is this?" he asked Amelia, who was organizing the documents.

His voice carried a hint of surprise.

"Miss Witt, a new employee I trained," Amelia replied calmly. "She will handle the meeting records from now on."

Damien nodded thoughtfully and said in a relaxed tone, "That’s good. You won’t have to worry about small tasks like this anymore."

Small tasks.

Amelia laughed bitterly in her heart.

These so-called ‘small tasks’ were things she had carefully done for him in the past. She used to sort out the most important points from long and complicated meetings so he could understand them easily.

But to him, all her efforts had been unnecessary.

Miss Witt nervously handed him the meeting notes. Damien quickly flipped through a few pages, his frown deepening.

After Miss Witt left the office, he turned to Amelia and said in a friendly tone, "You know me best. The new employee's summary is too complicated."

He waited for Amelia to take the document and redo it, as she always did. But instead, she just smiled and said, "Give her a chance to improve."

Damien looked surprised for a moment as if he felt uncomfortable. but he quickly returned to normal. Just then, his phone lit up with a message.

Amelia glanced at the screen and saw an invitation to an engagement party from Damien’s best friend. The message specifically said he should bring a female companion.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Amelia’s voice was soft, but there was a hidden meaning in her words.

Damien’s expression became conflicted.

He reached out and pulled Amelia into his arms, speaking in a gentle tone, "That kind of event isn’t for you. The people there are troublemakers. I don’t want you to be around them."

Amelia gently pulled away from his embrace.

"That’s fine. I have something to do tonight anyway," she said.

Then, as if feeling her words were too cold, she added, "Come home early."

Damien looked relieved. He kissed her cheek lightly and smiled.

"You’re so understanding. Next time, when there’s a more formal event, I’ll take you with me so everyone can know who you are."

Amelia stared at his sincere expression and suddenly found it ridiculous.

This was the first time in five years that he had said he wanted to make their relationship public. But it happened at the very moment she had decided to leave him.

She turned to leave the office and, without looking back, said, "Alright, next time."

But in her heart, she knew there would never be a next time.

As Amelia had expected, Damien’s "female companion" for the night was Victoria.

At the party, Victoria wore an elegant white dress and held Damien’s arm in front of everyone. Her cheeks were slightly red and she leaned toward Damien from time to time, making the people around them whisper.

"Victoria looks more beautiful these days."

"Yes, she and Damien are a perfect match!"

No one mentioned their past as siblings.

After all, Victoria was no longer legally part of the Charleston Family. To outsiders, they were just a normal couple.

After the party, Victoria, who was drunk, sat in the passenger seat of Damien’s car. She held onto his sleeve and whispered, "Damien ... I really don’t want to go back to that hotel. Can I stay at your house until my divorce is final?"

Damien tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

His mind told him to refuse. If Amelia found out, it would be hard to explain. His family might even get involved.

But when he saw Victoria’s tearful eyes and slightly flushed face, he couldn’t say no. He turned the car toward home. However, when he arrived, an unexpected scene was waiting for him.

Amelia stood at the front door, talking to Julian Weston, a wealthy lawyer known for handling divorce cases. They were holding a document between them.

Damien’s heart suddenly pounded. He quickly got out of the car and helped Victoria forward.

"What are you doing?"

His eyes were fixed on the document.

"Who wants a divorce?"

The papers looked familiar, but before he could get a clear look, Amelia calmly put them into her bag.

"Elizabeth and her husband are getting a divorce. I’m helping her with legal advice," she said.

Elizabeth was Amelia’s best friend. She was using her name to avoid suspicion. Amelia then turned her attention to Victoria, who was clearly drunk.

"What happened to Victoria?" she asked.

"Is she okay?"

Damien hesitated and then replied, "Her ex-husband’s family made a scene. She’ll stay here for a few days."

Then, as if trying to regain control of the situation, he looked at Amelia with concern and softly berated her, "Even if you’re helping a friend, you shouldn’t meet a man so late at night."

His tone was the usual one he used when lecturing her.

Amelia looked at Victoria, who was leaning against Damien, her chest pressed against his arm. The situation was beyond ironic. This man, who treated her like a sister, treated his real sister like a lover.

Julian suddenly smirked and said, "Now that I think about it, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Charleston’s wife yet."

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.