Chapter 5 - Scarlet Scandal

Amelia’s POV

"You did WHAT?!" Liz’s voice boomed through the phone so loudly I had to pull it away from my ear.

I winced. "I don’t know for sure, okay? I thought it was Tristan because of the Lancaster crest. But just now, on the phone, he swore he wasn’t even at the hotel last night."

"Well, I sure hope it wasn’t him," Liz said darkly, "He doesn’t deserve you after what he put you through."

"But Liz… if it wasn’t him—who the hell was I with last night?!"

"We’re going to find out," Liz said firmly. 

Five minutes later, Liz pulled me toward the receptionist. “Hello,  we need access to your hotel’s surveillance footage for last night. ”

“Sorry, that’s not allowed…”

“I know, but—” Liz suddenly put on a mysterious look. “Listen, my bestie’s boyfriend seemed to show up here last night. And it looks like he even booked a room. On the 12th floor. You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you?”

“Liz? ” What was she talking about? Didn’t she notice that the receptionist’s look had already turned rather strange?

I wanted to explain, but the receptionist had already pulled up the footage quickly. “You’ll need to be fast. This isn’t in line with the rules. But I really want to help you two.” The receptionist’s smile with a spark of gossip and curiosity.

She pulled up the footage right away. “I’ll keep an eye on the supervisor. You two, hurry.”

The footage flickered to life, showing the hotel hallway. My breath hitched as I saw myself—stumbling, half-naked, clearly drunk. 

Then a tall figure approached. Broad shoulders, tailored suit, an air of confidence that practically radiated through the screen.

I winced as I saw myself kissing him. A total stranger. Clearly not Tristan.

Who was he? 

Liz leaned in, squinting. "Well… damn. He’s hot."

"Liz!" I hissed, mortified.

"What? I’m just saying—objectively speaking—he’s very good-looking." She smirked, then grew serious. "But you’re right. That’s not Tristan."

I stared at the screen, my emotions a mess—frustration, disbelief, and a flicker of amazement. 

The stranger was undeniably handsome. But the fact that he’d casually kissed a drunk stranger told me all I needed to know. He must be some reckless, frivolous player.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I whispered. "I didn’t even realize he wasn’t Tristan."

Liz put a hand on my shoulder. "You were drunk, honey. Don’t beat yourself up."

But shame burned in my chest anyway. How could I have been so careless? I regretted every drink I had last night.

Just as Liz and I stepped out of the security room, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced at the screen—my father, Richard. My stomach dropped.

I sighed and swiped the call. "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?" Richard’s voice boomed. "You should be at the Lancaster wedding by now, helping your sister prepare."

My chest tightened. "I’m not going, Dad."

"Do you realize the shame you’d bring to this family if you don’t attend?"

I clenched the phone tighter. "You have no right to say that. When Victoria stole my wedding and my fiancé, why didn’t you care about the family’s reputation then?"

"Is that the way you speak to your father?" His voice dropped lower, sharper. "Your childhood house that your mother left you is still in my possession. If you don’t come, I’ll sell it tomorrow. You’d better not challenge me.”

“This is what my mother left me, and you took it under the pretext that I was a minor. What kind of unfit guardian are you?” I couldn’t believe his plundering and threatening. Why would a father treat his own daughter like this?

“Be a good girl.” He said. “This is the only way you live in Hartwell’s home.”

The line went dead.

I closed my eyes. My heart screamed no, but I knew I would be here. 

Richard’s threat was all too effective. I couldn’t accept him selling the house where my mother and I had lived together since my childhood, a place filled with our shared memories. I would do whatever it took to keep it.

When I told Liz about my father’s threat, her reaction was immediate.

"That bastard," she hissed. She grabbed my shoulders, eyes blazing. "If he’s going to drag you there, you’re not walking in like some tragic victim. You’re walking in like fire itself."

Before I could protest, she was already pulling me by the arm. 

Soon we were in her bedroom, surrounded by dresses strewn across her bed. She held up a deep red gown that shimmered under the light.

"This one," she declared.

I let her dress me, her hands quick and determined. "You look like a queen. Now, let’s go remind them you’re not someone to be pitied."

We rushed to the chapel. Just as we pushed the heavy doors open, the priest’s voice rang through the vaulted ceiling: "The groom may kiss the bride."

My breath caught. Tristan leaned in, and Victoria tilted her face up with a smile too sweet to be real. Their lips met.

The sight tore me open. I had to grip the doorframe to stay upright.

Then, as if to twist the knife, Victoria turned her head ever so slightly and locked eyes with me. Her smile sharpened. 

She raised her hand and called sweetly, "My Dear Sister Amelia! Come here. Bring us the rings."

My blood ran cold.

Tristan frowned, but Victoria extended her hand, beckoning me. "It would mean the world if you gave us your blessing," she cooed. “No matter what happens, we’re still loving sisters, right?”

In front of everyone’s eyes, I refused to take the ring from the bridesmaid. “No.”

“Amelia!” Tristan’s voice was heavy with displeasure. “You should think of the bigger picture. Don’t make a scene today—you know Victoria’s health can't handle your provocations.”

The crowd began whispering; gossip about a wealthy family was the kind of drama no one could resist. I couldn’t even care about my reputation anymore, I just wanted to vent. “Victoria had already taken everything I longed for, and now she wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone! You called it as ‘my provocations’? ”

“Amelia, I thought we’ve already reached a consensus. Victoria is a patient. You can’t throw baseless accusations at her like this. ” Tristan scolded me as though I were nothing more than a troublesome teenager.

Those few words pierced my heart. But this wasn’t the end.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria said softly. “I only wanted to fulfill my wish before I die. I never thought Amelia would resist me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tristan reassured her. “It’s Amelia who’s being heartless. She’s your sister, she should be more considerate of you. If she can’t get along with you, that’s her loss.”

Tristan’s words left me trapped amid the murmurs rippling through the chapel, surrounded by the pointed stares of the guests.

A cold, unfeeling, jealous sister. That was the brand they were about to burn into me.

I wanted to resist, but Tristan’s hateful words and my father’s averted gaze made my blood freeze.

Was this truly my fate? To end up a despised wretch, hated by everyone—

"Enough."

A deep, commanding voice rolled through the chapel like thunder. The doors slammed open behind us, and every head turned.

Tristan’s face was drained of color. He stammered, "Uncle Rowan?!"

Gasps and whispers erupted. 

"Rowan Lancaster," I heard a guest whisper next to me. "The true power behind the family. The Lancaster heir."

I spun around—and froze.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. His dark eyes were piercing, his jaw set with authority. He was handsome, imposing. And terrifyingly familiar.

No, No, No.

It couldn’t be real.

Rowan Lancaster—a man who could stir the entire city with a single move, someone said to topple multinational corporations with just a flick of his hand. 

But that’s not the point to make me scream inside.

What was happening now was far more devastating than anything before—

Because the man striding toward me, muscles taut and commanding, was the very same man I had slept with at the hotel last night. 

No one could ever mistake him after seeing that handsome face—not even on a security camera.

Had I actually slept with my ex-boyfriend’s uncle?