Chris tore down the road, his mind a chaotic whirl of memories. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Amelia—always guarded, always resisting him. He felt a desperate urge to understand why she had such a hold on him, wondering if he had ever truly moved on.

When he arrived at the scene of Leila’s accident, his anxiety turned to irritation. It wasn't the catastrophe she’d described; it was a minor fender bender with a faint scratch on the bumper. Leila stood by the car, looking perfectly fine despite her frantic calls.

"Chris! You’re here!" Leila ran toward him, looking for the comfort of a savior. "That woman was reckless! My knee—I think I’m injured."

Chris glanced at her leg. There wasn't even a bruise. "I’m sure you’ll survive the walk to the car, Leila. The wound will be a memory before we even find a doctor."

Leila froze, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "It hurts, Chris. And I have a performance in two days. This stress... it’s too much."

Her voice was soft and pleading, but Chris felt nothing. He found himself comparing her to Amelia—Amelia, whose anger was a wildfire, but whose tears were silent and rare. He realized with a jolt of clarity that he was drawn to the fire, not the performance.

"Chris, stay with me?" Leila clung to his arm. "I’m shaken up. Or come home with me, just for a little while? I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

Chris remained silent, his silence growing heavier by the second.

"I’ve waited so long," Leila sobbed, her composure finally breaking. "I don't ask for much. Just a meal, a walk... a moment where I’m not being ignored. I proposed to you, and you said 'not now.' But when is 'now'? Just give me something to hold onto."

Chris felt a wave of guilt, but it wasn't enough to override his resolve. "We can't get married, Leila," he said, his voice firm and final. "I’ll ensure you’re taken care of, but the engagement... it ends today. You can no longer use my name as your shield."

Leila went pale, her face contorting in shock. "What? Because of her? Because of Amelia?"

When he didn't deny it, a sharp, bitter pain flared in her chest. "I knew it," she whispered. "I’ve tried for years to build a place for myself, and she destroys it without even trying. Chris, please. Don't leave me. I’ll do anything. I won't even ask you to stop seeing her. Just give me the title of your wife. Let me keep my dignity in public, and I’ll never pester you again. I swear it."

Chris frowned. "You’d trade your life for a hollow title?"

"If it means I don't lose everything, yes," she pleaded.

Two hours later, Chris returned to Amelia’s villa. To his surprise, the front door was ajar. He quickened his pace, sensing trouble.

Inside, a woman named Sable was standing over Amelia, who looked exhausted on the sofa.

"Ms. White, Lucius has searched for you for years," Sable was saying, her tone a mix of pleading and pressure. "Everything he does, he does for you. Once he recovers the assets Chris took, he’ll be able to give you the life you deserve."

"Tell him I don't care about the assets or the life he’s planned," Amelia replied, her voice hoarse.

"Don't be ungrateful!" Sable’s voice rose as she heard Chris’s footsteps behind her. She quickly pivoted her tone to sound more aggressive. "Mr. Howard saved you when you were nothing. You owe him everything! Don't bring trouble on yourself by associating with the wrong people."

"And who decided Lucius was the 'right' person?" Chris walked in, his presence immediately cooling the room. He looked every bit the arrogant CEO, distant and untouchable.

Sable gasped. "Mr. Spencer... I didn't realize you were here."

"Leave," Amelia commanded, her eyes cold. "Go back and tell Lucius there is no future for us. Not in this lifetime."

"You don't mean that," Sable insisted. "He’ll be furious. You know what he’s capable of when he’s crossed..."

In a sudden move that shocked both Chris and Sable, Amelia stood up. She stepped directly into Chris’s personal space, grabbing his lapels and pulling him down toward her. It wasn't a gentle embrace; it was a declaration of war. She leaned in, her lips brushing his in a brief, possessive gesture that looked like a deep kiss to anyone watching from behind.

"Are you satisfied now?" Amelia snapped, pushing Chris back and turning to Sable with a look of pure defiance. "I’ve chosen. I’m with Chris now. Tell Lucius to stay away."

Terrified by the sudden escalation, Sable scrambled out of the villa.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Amelia collapsed back onto the sofa, her strength spent. "I’m sorry," she whispered, not looking at him. "I needed a way to end his hope. I used you. You can leave now."

Chris stood there, the ghost of her touch still lingering. "You used me... and now you’re throwing me out?"

Amelia closed her eyes. "Goodbye, Chris."