The next morning dawned gray and cold, as if the world itself mirrored the unrest in Freda's heart. She hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Edward's face — his confession, his silence before he said Amelia's name.
It wasn't betrayal, she told herself. It was just the past.
But why did it hurt so much?
The air in the Vincent estate was thick with tension. Freda wandered into the conservatory, where sunlight struggled through the misted glass. The orchids Edward had sent earlier in the week sat wilting in their vase — a quiet reflection of her own confusion.
Then, a voice came from behind her. Smooth. Feminine. Confident.
"Beautiful flowers. Shame they're dying so soon."
Freda froze. Slowly, she turned — and there she was.
Amelia.
She was everything Freda wasn't — poised, elegant, effortlessly composed. Her golden hair fell in perfect waves over a cream coat, her heels clicking softly against the marble. Her smile was warm, but her eyes were sharp enough to cut.
"Amelia Hart," she said, extending a hand. "You must be Freda Vincent."
Freda didn't move. "You have some nerve showing up here."
Amelia's smile only deepened. "I suppose I do. But I don't like unfinished stories — and Edward and I had one."
Freda's pulse quickened. "That story ended long ago."
"Did it?" Amelia asked softly, glancing toward the window. "Because from where I stand, it looks like it's only begun again — just not the way either of us planned."
Before Freda could respond, the door opened. Edward entered, and the look on his face said everything.
"Amelia," he breathed, stunned. "What are you doing here?"
She turned toward him with an almost tender smile. "I told you I'd come when you were ready to face the truth."
Freda's eyes narrowed. "What truth?"
Amelia's gaze flicked between them, her tone light but laced with poison. "You didn't tell her? How noble of you, Edward. Or was it cowardice?"
Edward stepped forward, his voice firm. "Don't start this."
"Start what?" she asked, feigning innocence. "The truth? You owe her that much."
Freda's voice trembled. "Someone tell me what's going on."
Edward's jaw clenched. "Amelia and I were engaged — for business reasons. Her family was investing heavily in my company at the time. It wasn't real, Freda."
"Not real?" Amelia scoffed. "You think I stood by you for two years out of charity?"
Freda's breath caught. "Two years?"
Edward turned to her quickly. "Freda, listen—"
But Amelia didn't stop. "I believed in him," she said, stepping closer, eyes glistening. "I helped him build what he has now. When the world turned its back, I stayed. I was there when he was nothing, and I was there when he became everything. Tell me, Freda—where were you?"
The words sliced through the room like a blade.
Freda's throat tightened. "I was here. Waiting. Believing."
Amelia's gaze softened, just slightly. "Then you were both fools. Because love built on waiting and pretending never lasts."
Edward's temper flared. "That's enough, Amelia."
She looked at him then — not with anger, but with heartbreak. "You think you can erase what we had because she's back? Because you still see her as the girl from the garden?"
"Because I never loved you," Edward said quietly.
The words hit like thunder.
Freda flinched, but Amelia's face went still — a mask of calm cracking just enough to reveal the pain beneath. "You'll regret that," she whispered. "Both of you will."
She turned sharply, heels echoing down the corridor as she left. The silence she left behind was deafening.
Edward rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Freda. I should have told you everything sooner."
Freda stared at the doorway where Amelia had disappeared. "You loved her once, didn't you?"
He hesitated. "I cared for her. But not the way I cared for you. It was… survival. After I thought I'd lost you, I needed something — someone — to fill the silence."
Freda's voice was soft, trembling. "And now she's back to fill it again."
"No," Edward said quickly. "You're the only one I want."
But her heart was torn in too many directions — between anger, empathy, and exhaustion. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Edward."
He stepped forward, his hand reaching for hers. "Believe this — I'm not letting her or anyone else stand between us again."
But Freda pulled away. "It's not that simple. You can't just erase people from the past. Especially not someone like her."
He looked at her then, desperation flickering in his eyes. "Then what do I do?"
"Prove it," she said quietly. "Prove that what we have isn't just a memory. Because right now, I can't tell where your heart really belongs."
---
That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Amelia sat in the backseat of a sleek black car parked outside the estate. Her reflection stared back at her from the tinted window — beautiful, calm, and furious.
She dialed a number.
"It's done," she said.
A man's voice answered on the other end. Deep. Cold. "And the papers?"
"Still in his possession. But don't worry. Edward will come to me soon enough. He always does when he's desperate."
"Good," the voice replied. "Make sure he does. We can't afford for Vincent Holdings to merge under his control."
The call ended.
Amelia's fingers tightened around her phone. Her gaze shifted back to the mansion, where light flickered through the windows like dying hope.
"You should've chosen me, Edward," she whispered. "Now you'll lose everything."
---
Upstairs, Freda stood on the balcony, the night wind tugging at her hair. Below, the world was quiet except for the soft hum of the sea.
She wanted to believe Edward. She wanted to erase the doubts. But the look in Amelia's eyes, the venom behind her calm — it wasn't over.
Edward joined her, his presence steady beside her. "You're thinking too much," he said softly.
"I'm thinking just enough," she replied. "We're not alone in this, Edward. Whatever game she's playing… it's only beginning."
He took her hand this time, and she didn't pull away. "Then let her play," he said. "Because I won't lose you again."
Freda met his gaze, her heart heavy yet full of defiance. "I'm not the girl who needed saving anymore. If she wants war, she'll get one."
And for the first time, the fire in her voice matched the strength in her soul.
The wind carried her words out into the night — a warning, a promise, and perhaps, the start of a new battle for both love and power.