CHAPTER TWO: THE WRONG BROTHER

“Interesting choice of revenge, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Amelia’s breath caught.

For one brief, horrifying second, she stayed exactly where she was, close enough to feel the warmth of the stranger’s hand at her waist and the steady rise of his chest beneath her fingers.

Then reality returned.

The hotel entrance.

The guests.

The phones pointed at her.

Adrian standing a few feet away with murder in his eyes.

Amelia jerked back immediately, shame and panic rushing through her so fast she almost tripped over the hem of her dress. The stranger’s hand tightened before she could fall, his grip firm and controlled, but instead of letting her go, he pulled her back against him.

Amelia froze.

His palm settled at her waist again like it belonged there.

“Easy, babe,” he said quietly.

The words were soft.

The effect was not.

The crowd erupted.

Whispers sharpened into gasps. Camera flashes multiplied. Somewhere behind her, Sofia made a strangled sound, but Amelia could barely process it. She was too busy staring at the man who had just called her babe in front of the same people who had watched her wedding collapse five minutes ago.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

His gaze flicked over her face, unreadable. “Helping you make a point.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“No,” he said. “You asked for trouble.”

Before Amelia could respond, Adrian stepped forward.

“Get your hands off her.”

The stranger didn’t move.

Not even slightly.

That made Adrian look even more furious. His face was flushed, his tie loose, his perfect groom image ruined beyond repair. He looked nothing like the man who had been smiling beside her at the altar minutes ago.

He looked cornered.

And cornered men always looked for someone else to blame.

“Are you deaf?” Adrian snapped. “I said get your hands off my fiancée.”

Amelia almost laughed.

Fiancée.

The word sounded ridiculous now.

“You lost the right to call me that when you had your tongue down my sister’s throat,” she said.

A few guests gasped again.

Sofia burst into fresh tears. “Amelia, please don’t make it sound like that.”

Amelia turned her head slowly.

For the first time since leaving the ballroom, she really looked at her sister. Sofia stood a few steps behind Adrian, still in her bridesmaid dress, mascara streaked beneath her eyes as if she were the one whose life had been dragged apart in public.

“Like what?” Amelia asked. “True?”

Sofia flinched.

Adrian’s jaw clenched. “Don’t twist this.”

Amelia stared at him.

“Twist this?” she repeated.

“You kissed him,” Adrian shot back, pointing at the man behind her. “In front of everyone.”

“After you cheated on me with my sister.”

“One mistake,” he snapped. “You’re acting like one stupid mistake means you can throw yourself at another man.”

The stranger’s fingers pressed once against Amelia’s waist.

Not painfully.

Just enough to remind her he was still there.

Just enough for everyone else to notice too.

Adrian noticed.

His eyes dropped to the man’s hand, and something ugly crossed his face.

“So that’s what this is,” he said, his voice turning colder. “You were waiting for a chance to humiliate me.”

Amelia frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Adrian let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t stand there pretending. You knew exactly who you were kissing.”

The crowd shifted.

Amelia’s stomach tightened.

The stranger behind her still hadn’t said a word.

That silence suddenly felt deliberate.

Someone near the stairs whispered, “Is that Lucien Saint?”

Another voice answered, lower but clear enough to reach Amelia.

“It is.”

Lucien Saint.

The name moved through the crowd like a spark through dry paper.

Amelia went still.

Of course she had heard of him.

Everyone had.

The billionaire who had returned to New York after years away and bought his way into half the city before anyone could stop him. The man business magazines called brilliant and old money families called dangerous when they thought no one was listening.

Lucien Saint.

Adrian’s stepbrother.

The man nobody expected to attend the wedding.

The man she had just kissed.

Amelia’s mouth went dry.

She tried to step away again, but Lucien’s arm stayed exactly where it was, anchoring her against him with terrifying ease.

“Let go of me,” she said under her breath.

“Not yet.”

Her pulse jumped.

Not yet?

Adrian’s expression darkened as he watched them. “How long has this been going on?”

“It hasn’t,” Amelia said immediately.

Lucien said nothing.

The silence was worse than any lie.

Amelia twisted her head toward him, disbelief flashing through her panic. “Say something.”

Lucien looked down at her.

For a moment, she thought he would deny it. Explain. Push her away and leave her to the mess she had created.

Instead, his mouth curved faintly.

“Would it matter?”

The crowd exploded again.

Amelia’s heart slammed against her ribs.

Adrian took another step forward. “You bastard.”

Lucien finally looked at him.

The change was subtle, but instant. The faint amusement vanished from his face, replaced by something cold enough to make even the nearest guests fall silent.

“Careful,” Lucien said.

Adrian laughed, but it sounded forced. “You show up after years of ignoring this family, and this is the first thing you do?”

Lucien’s gaze stayed steady. “You made it easy.”

The words landed cleanly.

Adrian’s face twisted.

Before he could respond, Amelia’s father pushed through the small crowd gathering near the staircase.

“Amelia.”

His voice was low, sharp, and unlike anything she had heard from him all night.

She turned.

Jonathan Carter’s face had lost all color.

He wasn’t looking at Adrian.

He wasn’t looking at Sofia.

He was looking at Lucien’s hand on Amelia’s waist as if it were a knife pressed to her throat.

“Come here,” her father said.

Something about his tone made Amelia’s anger falter.

Not soften.

Falter.

“Dad—”

“Now,” he said.

Lucien’s arm remained around her.

Amelia felt it then, the strange shift beneath all the public chaos. Her father wasn’t merely embarrassed. He wasn’t worried about gossip or headlines or the investors seated inside the ballroom.

He was afraid.

Lucien seemed to notice it too.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to Jonathan Carter.

“Good evening, Mr. Carter.”

Two simple words.

Yet her father reacted like Lucien had opened a grave.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asked.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I was invited.”

“No, you weren’t.”

The tension shifted again.

Sharper now.

Older.

Amelia looked between them, confusion pressing against the ache in her chest.

They knew each other.

Not socially.

Not casually.

There was something else here.

Something buried.

Lucien’s thumb moved once against the side of her waist, almost absentmindedly, and Amelia hated the way her body noticed despite everything happening around her.

“Amelia,” her father said again, more urgently. “Move away from him.”

Adrian laughed bitterly. “Too late for that, Mr. Carter. Looks like she’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Sofia wiped at her cheeks. “Amelia, please stop. Everyone is watching.”

That did it.

Amelia turned on her sister fully.

“Everyone was watching when you climbed onto my fiancé’s lap too.”

Sofia’s mouth fell open.

A few guests murmured.

Adrian stepped in front of Sofia instinctively, and the small movement told Amelia more than any confession could have.

He protected her.

Even now.

Even after everything.

Something cold settled inside Amelia’s chest.

Adrian saw her looking and scoffed. “Don’t look at me like that. You don’t get to play saint while standing in his arms.”

“I don’t even know him,” Amelia snapped.

The second the words left her mouth, Lucien looked down at her.

Not surprised.

Not offended.

Almost amused.

“That’s not what it looks like,” Adrian said.

“Because you’re choosing what it looks like.”

“No,” Adrian said, voice rising again. “Because Lucien Saint doesn’t touch women in public unless he wants people to know they belong to him.”

The sentence sent a new ripple through the crowd.

Amelia’s throat tightened.

Lucien’s expression didn’t change.

That was the worst part.

He didn’t deny that either.

Adrian’s pride, already bleeding, finally broke open.

“You know what?” he said, laughing under his breath as he looked from Amelia to Lucien. “Fine. If this is what you want, take her.”

“Adrian,” Sofia whispered.

“No, let’s not pretend anymore.” Adrian spread his arms slightly, turning toward the guests like he was performing now. “She came dressed for a wedding, didn’t she?”

Amelia’s stomach dropped.

“Stop talking,” she said.

But Adrian kept going.

His eyes were on Lucien now, full of resentment.

“You want to humiliate me in front of everyone? Then finish it.” He smiled, sharp and ugly. “The priest is still inside. The flowers are paid for. The guests are already here.”

A nervous silence spread across the entrance.

Adrian’s smile widened when Lucien didn’t respond.

“What?” he taunted. “You want my bride so badly? Marry her.”

Amelia stopped breathing.

Her father took one step forward. “Adrian, enough.”

But Adrian wasn’t looking at him.

He was looking at Lucien, certain he had finally found a way to make the cold, untouchable man standing behind Amelia look ridiculous.

“Go on,” Adrian said. “Wedding’s still on.”

The guests were silent now.

Sofia looked horrified.

Jonathan Carter looked like he might be sick.

Amelia turned slowly toward Lucien, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Surely he would let go now.

Surely even a man like him would not entertain madness just because Adrian had thrown it like an insult.

Lucien looked at Adrian for a long moment.

Then his gaze dropped to Amelia.

Unreadable.

Dangerous.

Calm.

Finally, he said, “Fine.”

For one second, nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Even the cameras seemed to freeze in the air.

Amelia stared at him, certain she had heard wrong.

But Lucien’s hand tightened slightly at her waist as he looked back at Adrian.

“If the bride agrees,” he said, “I’ll marry her.”