Chapter 5

The air at the table grew thick with unspoken tension. Edward stared at me, his jaw tight. For a second, a flicker of fear crossed his face. Mark, finally sensing the gravity of his drunken blunder, tried to laugh it off.

"Hey, I was just kidding! C'mon, everyone knows you're crazy about Amelia."

Others quickly joined in, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. But I didn't let up. I just sat there, a serene smile on my face, my eyes boring into my fiancé. I was enjoying watching him squirm.

Dara was the first to break. She placed a hand on her forehead, her face pale. "I'm not feeling well," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I think I need some fresh air."

It was the perfect escape. She stood up and hurried away towards the terrace.

A moment later, Edward's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression shifting. "It's work," he announced to the table, his voice strained. "An emergency. I have to take this." He pushed his chair back and followed Dara out of the room.

"That man is so devoted to you, Amelia," one of the wives at the table said, trying to fill the silence. "Even with a crisis at work, he's always thinking of you."

I didn't reply. I just watched the door he had disappeared through. He expected me to believe his pathetic lie. He expected me to sit here and play the part of the gracious, understanding fiancée.

He was in for a rude awakening.

After a few more minutes of forced, stilted conversation, I excused myself. "I think I'll go check on Dara," I said sweetly. "The night air can be chilly."

I walked away from the table, but I didn't go to the terrace. Instead, I circled around the rooftop bar, my eyes scanning the perimeter. From a darkened corner, through a large glass window, I could see them. They were in his car, parked in the private lot below.

I ducked behind a large potted plant, my heart hammering. This was it. I pulled a small, sleek device from my clutch-a high-powered listening bug Josiah had procured for me. Small enough to be unnoticeable, powerful enough to pick up a conversation from a hundred yards away. I had planted it under the dashboard of Edward's car earlier that day.

I put in a discreet earpiece and turned it on. Their voices filled my ear, clear and damning.

"...I can't do this anymore, Edward!" Dara's voice was sharp, laced with frustration. "Sneaking around, hiding. I want to be with you. I want everyone to know you love me, not her!"

"Patience, Dara," Edward's voice was low, placating. "The plan is in motion. Just a few more days. After the wedding, after the scandal, and after she's... gone... everything will be ours. You just have to play your part."

"My part?" she scoffed. "You mean the part where I pretend to be her loving little sister while you're still engaged to her? Do you know how humiliating that is?"

"It was your idea!" he shot back, his voice hardening. "You were the one who said we needed to destroy her reputation completely. You were the one who said we needed the fake video. You were the one who said her death had to look like an accident born from despair."

My blood ran cold. Hearing them discuss my murder so callously, so clinically...

"She's so arrogant, Edward," Dara's voice turned venomous. "So high and mighty, looking down on everyone. She deserves it. At the wedding, when they play that video, I want to see the look on her face. I want to see her break."

I felt a surge of nausea, but I forced myself to listen, to absorb every poisonous word. I calmly reached into my clutch and hit 'record' on my phone, which was connected to the bug.

The conversation continued, a litany of their plans, their hatred, their greed. When they were finally done, I switched off the device and took a deep breath. I had it. I had the proof.

A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Edward.

"Darling," he said, his voice back to its smooth, charming tone. "So sorry about that. A server at the company went down. I'm taking Dara home, she's really not feeling well. I'll send a car back for you."

"Don't worry about it," I said, my voice as sweet as honey. "I understand. Work comes first."

I hung up and stood there for a moment, the city lights blurring before my eyes. He had left me here. Stranded. In his mind, I was an inconvenience, a problem to be managed and then discarded.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I thought of all the times I had felt loved, cherished. All the quiet moments, the grand gestures. It was all a lie. True affection, I realized, didn't always shout from billboards. Sometimes, it was a quiet, steady presence. A worried phone call in the middle of the night.

I turned away from the window and started walking towards the exit. I would take a taxi. I would go home and sleep in the guest room. The game was afoot, and I had all the winning pieces.

As I walked down the long, winding road from the private club, the cool night air felt good on my skin. A sleek, black car pulled up silently beside me, its window gliding down.

My heart stopped. It was Josiah Craft. He got out of the car and walked towards me, his face a mixture of concern and relief.

"I called your driver," he said, his voice a low rumble. "He said Edward had already left with your sister. I was worried."