Chapter 187 056
AMELIA didn’t return to the office immediately after leaving the café. She instead asked the chauffeur to take the longer route, the one that wound through the quieter part of the city, where traffic thinned and her thoughts could stretch without interruption. They were headed to the boutique. She sat back, her face composed, her posture relaxed, anyone watching her would casually think it had been just another pleasant afternoon for her.
But inside, every word Shantel had spoken replayed with surgical clarity.
By the time the car pulled into the parking lot of her boutique building, Amelia had already sorted what mattered from what didn’t. She alighted and briskly walked straight to her office, nonchalantly responding to her staff's greetings over her shoulder.
Ryan was waiting.
He always was these days.
He stood when she walked in, tablet tucked under his arm, his expression neutral but attentive. Ryan had worked with Amelia long enough to recognize the difference between her calm moods and her dangerous ones. This… this was neither.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Ryan,” Amelia replied, setting her bag down as she walked past him toward her desk. “Did anything urgent come in while I was out?”
“Nothing that couldn’t wait,” he answered. Then, after a slight pause, “But I did flag something.”
She stopped at her desk, unbuttoned her blazer, and looked at him.
“Go on.”
Ryan activated his tablet.
“A name crossed one of our monitoring filters this afternoon. Not a direct hit, but close enough to trigger a soft alert.”
Amelia lowered herself into her chair.
“Which name?”
“Shantel Moore.”
Ryan watched her carefully.
Amelia didn’t blink.
She simply crossed her legs and reached for the glass of water on her desk.
“What about her?”
“She has been making inquiries,” Ryan continued. “Nothing illegal. Nothing aggressive. Just… curious movements. Background checks. Social circles. She has just been mapping patterns.”
Amelia took a slow sip of water, then set the glass down with deliberate care.
“And?”
“And today,” Ryan said, “she was at the resort café.”
A lesser woman would have reacted, asked questions, demanded details. Amelia didn’t.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “She introduced herself.”
Ryan’s brows lifted before he could stop himself.
“You knew?”
Amelia smiled faintly.
“I know most things before you do.”
Ryan hesitated.
“Do you want me to escalate the surveillance?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly for it to be casual.
Ryan studied her.
“Ma’am… with respect, this woman has a history connected to Charles.”
Amelia leaned back in her chair.
“I’m aware.”
Silence settled between them.
Ryan slowly lowered himself into the chair opposite her. This was getting interesting than he had anticipated.
“How long?”
Amelia glanced toward the glass wall of her office, where the city stretched endlessly beyond.
“Long enough to know she didn’t come here out of admiration.”
Ryan exhaled.
“Then why allow the meeting?”
Amelia turned back to him, her gaze sharp now, all softness gone.
“Because people are most honest when they think they are winning.”
Ryan nodded slowly.
“Do you want me to dig deeper into her past? Financials, connections—”
“I already did,” Amelia interrupted, her tone even.
Ryan froze. Now his boss was beginning to mesmerize him.
She continued, unbothered.
“What I need from you is not discovery. It is confirmation.”
“Confirmation of what?”
“Timelines,” Amelia said. “Patterns and consistency.”
Ryan tapped his tablet nervously.
“And Charles?”
Amelia’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“Charles will continue doing exactly what he thinks he has been doing successfully… he is still my fiancé,” a senile smile played on her lips as she mentioned the word ‘fiancé’.
Ryan understood then. Fully.
“You are letting this play out,” he said quietly.
“I’m allowing it to reveal itself,” Amelia corrected. “There is a difference.”
He leaned forward.
“Ma’am… when this breaks, it won’t be gentle.”
“I’m not aiming for gentle.”
Another pause followed.
Ryan cleared his throat.
“What about Hazel?”
For the first time, Amelia’s expression shifted. Not weakness, but something closer to resolve.
“She is perceptive,” Amelia said. “Too perceptive for her own peace. That is why she is angry. That is why she would be attending a weekly boarding school.”
Ryan gasped lowly.
“Huh! And when she confronts you?”
Amelia stood, smoothing the front of her blouse.
“I will let her believe what she needs to for now.”
Ryan rose as well.
“And Shantel?”
Amelia picked up her bag.
“She will come again.”
“How do you know?”
Amelia walked toward the door, stopping only once, her hand on the handle.
“Because she thinks I admire her,” she said softly. “And people who feel admired always return.”
Ryan watched her leave, a chill running through him.
For the first time since he had begun working with Amelia Harlow, he didn’t worry that she was being played.
He worried for the people who thought they were playing her.
Amelia paused outside Hazel’s door, her hand hovering midair before she knocked. Through the slightly ajar door, the glow from a laptop screen lit the room in soft blue light. Hazel sat cross-legged on her bed, earbuds in, eyes fixed on the screen as her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. Books were spread around her, neat but numerous, a quiet testimony to how seriously she took her studies.
Amelia knocked once.
Hazel didn’t look up.
“Yeah?” She answered the door.
Amelia pushed the door open and stepped in.
“Can you pause that for a moment?”
Hazel sighed, clearly irritated, but she removed one earbud and glanced up.
“I’m studying.”
“I know,” Amelia said calmly. “This won’t take long.”
Hazel shut the laptop halfway, her posture immediately defensive.
“What is it?”
Amelia moved further into the room, the heels of her hairy flip-flop padding soft against the rug. She didn’t sit. She stood by the desk, arms loosely folded, composed as ever.
“I have made a decision,” she began.
Hazel’s eyes narrowed.
“About what?”
“About you,” Amelia replied evenly. “Starting next week, you will be moving into the boarding section of your school.”
For a moment, Hazel just stared at her, as though she hadn’t heard correctly. Then she laughed once, sharp and incredulous.
“What?”
“You are not changing schools,” Amelia continued, her tone unruffled. “You will still attend the same classes. Same teachers. Same friends. You will just be boarding during the week and coming home every weekend.”
Hazel shot to her feet.
“No way! Absolutely not, Mom.”
“This isn’t a discussion,” Amelia said.
Hazel’s chest heaved.
“You can’t just decide that! I live here. With you. With my brothers.”
“And you will still see them every weekend,” Amelia replied. “Nothing about that changes.”
Hazel scoffed.
“Don’t insult me. You know exactly what this is about.”
Amelia’s expression remained unreadable.
“What do you think it is about?”
Hazel laughed again, this time bitter.
“Charles. It is because of him. Ever since he came into our lives, everything has been going downhill. Now you are sending me away so he can play house with you and my brothers.”
“That is not true,” Amelia said calmly.
“Then why me?” Hazel demanded. “Why not the boys? Why am I the one being shipped off?”
“Because you are old enough to benefit from structure and space,” Amelia replied. “And because your behaviour has become a concern.”
“My behaviour?” Hazel’s voice rose. “I’m the problem now?”
“Yes,” Amelia said without flinching. “Right now, you are.”
Hazel’s eyes already filled with tears, but her anger burned hotter.
“I’m trying to protect you! But you are too blind to see it. You are choosing him over me.”
“I am choosing peace,” Amelia said. “And I won’t apologise for that.”
Hazel shook her head wildly.
“I’m telling Dad about this.”
“You are free to,” Amelia said.
“He won’t agree,” Hazel snapped. “He will stop you, you know.”
Amelia met her gaze, unwavering.
“This decision has already been made.”
Hazel’s tears spilled over now.
“You can’t do this to me, Mom. Please. I will change. I will try harder. Just don’t send me away.”
Amelia’s jaw tightened for a brief second, but her voice remained steady.
“This is what is best for you, Hazel.”
Hazel wiped her face angrily.
“You are lying. This is what is best for ‘you’.”
Amelia turned toward the door.
“You will have the rest of the week to prepare.”
“Don’t walk away!” Hazel cried. “Say something!”
Amelia paused at the doorway, her back to her daughter.
“I have,” she said quietly.
Then she opened the door and walked out, her steps measured and regal, leaving Hazel standing in the middle of the room, angry, heartbroken, and very much alone.