Chapter 10

"Who is it?" Emily Carter got up to answer the door. Standing outside was Damien Taylor. "Is Miss Johnson here?" Emily froze for a moment. "Wait… are you—Damien Taylor?" Damien didn’t acknowledge her surprise. Calmly, he said, "I brought a dress for you, Miss Johnson. Try it on. If it doesn’t suit you, we can choose another." Amelia Johnson stepped forward, gently moving Emily aside. "Thank you," she said, accepting the elegantly wrapped box. After Damien left, Emily finally found her voice. "Was that really… the Damien Taylor?" "Told you he lived next door," Amelia replied, already opening the box. Emily stared, wide-eyed. "I genuinely thought I was hallucinating." Amelia rolled her eyes. "I already said he’s my neighbor." Emily narrowed her gaze, suspicion clear. "What’s going on between you two? Spill." Holding up the dress, Amelia brushed it off vaguely, "It’s a long story. I’ll explain another time." Emily moved closer, then gasped. "Amelia—this dress—!" Amelia frowned slightly. "Why would he choose this one?" Emily’s expression turned teasing. "This is one of Joey’s signature designs. Go try it on—I swear no one will wear it better than you." Amelia shot her a look. "Why are you grinning like that?" With a playful smirk, Emily said, "I’m telling you, Damien’s into you." Amelia tossed a cushion at her. "Stop making things up, you gossip!" Five minutes later, Amelia emerged wearing the crimson off-the-shoulder gown—it hugged her curves flawlessly. Emily’s jaw dropped. "Amelia… if you’d dressed like this back then, Ethan Collins would’ve been head over heels for you ages ago. You’ve got the figure—you should own it!" Back then, Amelia either lived in oversized hoodies or wore whatever Sabrina picked out—always deliberately unflattering. "Ugh, men. So shallow. Who even cares about his affection now?" Amelia shrugged. "You used to be obsessed with him. And now you suddenly don’t care?" Emily looked skeptical. Amelia didn’t want to explain further. She glanced at her reflection. "How should I do my hair? Should I put on makeup?" Emily stood behind her and said, "Leave your hair down, skip the makeup. You’re stunning even without it." Amelia blinked. "You sure?" Emily rolled her eyes. "With looks like yours? You could outshine everyone on this street—own it, girl." Ever since Amelia returned to the Johnson family, her confidence had taken hit after hit. She’d developed a habit of people-pleasing—something that never used to be part of her. Her parents divorced when she was two. Her mother simply left, and not long after, her father, Richard Johnson, brought Grace Williams and one-year-old Sabrina into the house. That same year, Amelia went missing. The truth? Grace had abandoned her in a remote area, never expecting her to survive. Fortunately, a kind couple found and raised her as their own. At eighteen, Sabrina was in a car accident and urgently needed a rare blood type. Amelia happened to be at the same hospital—and turned out to be a match. That was how the truth came out: they were biological sisters. Amelia was brought back to the Johnsons. Before her return, she had been betrothed to Ethan Collins since birth. But during her absence, everyone had already begun treating Ethan and Sabrina as the expected couple. So when Amelia reappeared, Sabrina felt threatened and began scheming—constantly making Amelia look bad in subtle ways. It worked. Both families saw her as unrefined, out of place. Grace and Sabrina kept reinforcing the narrative, always referring to her as “that girl from the countryside,” skillfully manipulating perceptions. They convinced Amelia she didn’t need ambition—that staying pretty beside Ethan and playing the perfect future wife was enough. For a time, she almost believed it—and nearly gave up her own path. Before returning to the Johnsons, Amelia’s mentor had warned her: “Don’t trust too easily.” But back then, she was still naive, still kind—she had no idea how ugly people’s hearts could be. Looking back now… she had completely wasted what should have been a winning hand. At 5:30 p.m., Damien Taylor texted her. She grabbed her coat and stepped outside. A sleek black Rolls-Royce was waiting at the curb. Damien stepped out from the back seat. Tall, poised, and radiant—he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a dream. Amelia’s cheeks warmed instantly, because that very dream… was exactly what she’d had the night before.