A wave of dizziness washed over Evelyn.

Was it her illness, or the sheer horror of the scene?

She couldn't watch any longer.

"Miss Sterling..." Miriam's voice was strained. "The birthday celebration will begin soon. You should go and prepare."

Amelia withdrew her foot instantly.

Her interest had vanished.

She stood with a casual, almost bored posture.

Miriam's gaze fell upon Evelyn's injured hand.

She froze for a second.

Evelyn instinctively tried to pull her hand back.

But the wound on her arm made every movement agonizingly slow.

A fresh wave of pain shot through her.

Her fingers trembled uncontrollably.

Her vision blurred for a moment.

She cradled her injured hand against her chest.

Her breathing was ragged.

A single tear escaped, tracing a path through the grime and blood on her skin.

Amelia let out a soft, satisfied hum. "You're right. I shouldn't keep my guests waiting."

She turned away, humming a light tune as if she'd just finished a pleasant stroll.

"Stay here. Watch her. I'll deal with this after the party."

"Yes, Miss Sterling," Miriam murmured, her head bowed.

Amelia swept out of the storage room, her attendants following like a silent parade.

The heavy door clicked shut.

Thick, suffocating silence descended, leaving only Evelyn and Miriam.

Miriam stood rigidly by the door.

She forced herself to remember her mission.

Protect her daughter.

That singular thought was the only anchor against the tidal wave of guilt threatening to drown her.

Years ago, she had made a choice.

A choice that irrevocably altered Evelyn's destiny.

She had personally swapped the Sterling family's true heiress—Evelyn—with her own child.

After the switch, she hadn't even bothered to raise the girl she'd condemned.

She had abandoned her without a backward glance.

But fate had a vicious sense of humor.

Miriam was lost in the bitter past.

Evelyn's hoarse voice suddenly cut through the silence, sharp as broken glass. "At the last Sterling family banquet. You tried to kill me, didn't you?"

Miriam's breath caught in her throat.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, panicked rhythm.

So she remembered...

Evelyn studied Miriam's horrified expression.

She then shifted her gaze to the dusty floor, her voice low but steady. "When I saw you tonight, it all came back. You're just a servant in the Sterling household. We should have no connection. And yet... you wanted me dead."

Miriam forced air into her lungs.

She had to remain calm. "You are mistaken. You are here because you offended Miss Sterling."

Evelyn turned her head, her piercing eyes locking onto Miriam's. "Then tell me, how did I offend Amelia?"

She didn't wait for a reply.

She continued, her voice slow and deliberate, like someone assembling clues. "The first time I met Amelia was at the Sterling banquet. Initially, it was just an accident—a simple collision. She's spoiled and volatile, so she lashed out. I understood that. But everything changed the moment she saw the invitation in my hand. That's when her dislike turned into pure hatred."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is there something about the Sterling family's invitation that I don't know?"

Her mind flashed back to that night.

Because of that accident, she had sprained her ankle.

She never got the chance to ask Alexander about it.

But now, she was certain.

There was a secret tied to that invitation.

A secret that explained why Amelia's hostility had escalated into murderous intent.