Chapter 2

Amelia contacted a lawyer, who told her that the paperwork would take about a month to process. She replied flatly, "Got it." The moment she ended the call, there was a noise at the door. Matthew had returned, with Sierra in tow. When he saw her in the living room, his brows drew together instinctively. "Perfect timing. You have 15 minutes to move your things out of the main bedroom. Sisi was shaken up recently, so she needs the best environment to rest in. The main bedroom has the best light and ventilation, so she'll stay there." Sierra stood behind him in an elegant dress, her expression soft, but her eyes betrayed a trace of unconcealed smugness. "Matt, is that a good idea?" Matthew didn't even spare Amelia a glance. He only looked at Sierra, his tone carrying a rare patience. "Don't mind her. She's just a maid Grandpa hired to look after me. If not for his sake, she wouldn't even be worthy of living here." When Amelia heard those cruel words, her heart was in so much agony that she felt numb. She didn't say anything or even look in their direction. She merely walked to the main bedroom and silently packed her belongings. Sierra followed her, pretending to help. "Ms. Caldwell, let me give you a hand." Amelia was just about to refuse when she looked up and found Sierra holding an old but well-preserved wooden box. That was the only keepsake her late grandmother had left her. "Don't touch that!" Amelia's head snapped up, her voice sharp with urgency. Sierra's hand jerked as if startled, and the lid flew open. A silver hairpin tumbled out, and the delicate cherry blossom at its tip instantly became crushed upon impact. Amelia's eyes grew wide. She lunged forward, pushed Sierra aside, and picked up the hairpin. With trembling fingers, she yelled, "Who said you could touch my things?" Sierra stumbled backward, and her eyes instantly reddened as she looked pitifully at Matthew, who was standing at the door. He strode in and yanked Amelia away with such force that she nearly fell. "Amelia Caldwell! What's wrong with you?" he snarled, his eyes terrifyingly icy, as if he were staring at an enemy. "It's just a worthless trinket! How is it worth assaulting someone over?" "That's my grandma's keepsake!" Amelia cried out, clutching the hairpin and glaring at him with reddened eyes. "So? It's just an object. So what if it's broken?" His tone was cold and filled with impatience. "Either way, pushing someone is wrong. Apologize to Sisi!" Amelia only found it all ridiculous as tears flooded her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?" "Are you not going to apologize?" Matthew asked, his expression turning colder still. He barked toward the door, "Bodyguards! Drag her out to the yard and make her kneel there. She can only get up when she admits her mistake!" Two bodyguards entered immediately, their faces blank as they dragged Amelia out. The late autumn ground was hard and cold. She was forced to kneel on the pebble path, pain shooting through her knees. She gritted her teeth and kept her back straight, refusing to give in. As night fell, the temperature dropped. Eventually, a cold drizzle began to fall. Rain soaked her hair and clothes, the chill biting into her bones. Her knees went numb with pain, and her whole body trembled uncontrollably from the cold, her face as pale as a sheet. But she remained silent, biting down on her lip. Amelia didn't know how long she'd knelt there. Eventually, her vision blurred, and everything went black. She collapsed into the icy rainwater. When she woke up, it was already morning. She was still lying in the drenched yard, her body frozen, her bones aching as if they were about to fall apart. Matthew stood under the porch roof, looking down his nose at her, his eyes utterly devoid of sympathy. "Sisi is kind-hearted, and she's decided not to hold it against you. We'll let it go this time. But, Amelia, put away those cheap little schemes of yours. Don't test my patience again." Amelia tried to stand, but she just collapsed again. She was just too weak and too cold. She looked up at the man she had spent her entire youth loving, and her heart splintered into a thousand pieces. Lowering her lashes to hide all emotion, she said in a hoarse but calm voice, "Understood." She dragged her exhausted, frozen body back to the room. With reddened eyes, she stared at the massive wedding photo hanging on the wall. In the picture, Matthew's face was blank, his gaze distant and cold—just like how he'd been with her all these years. What a joke. They hadn't had a wedding ceremony, nor had they received any blessings from guests. There was only this one wedding photo that Leonard had forced Matthew to take. Even during the photoshoot, Matthew had refused to cooperate. The smile in the final framed photo had been edited in by the photographer after much effort. Suddenly, everything felt absurd beyond measure to her. She found some tools and, after a bit of a struggle, took the massive frame down. Then, with a pair of scissors, she cut the photo into so many pieces that it could never be put together. Since she was leaving, there was no reason to leave behind these empty illusions.