Chapter 4 - THE GIRL THEY CALLED TRASH
Luna Jones had spent her entire life making sure Amelia felt inferior.
When Amelia arrived at Austin University's concert hall wearing a simple maternity dress, Luna smiled.
“Well, look who decided to show up.”
Amelia ignored her.
Luna stepped in front of the doors.
“Are you seriously performing like that?”
“Move.”
“You can barely afford groceries. And now you're trying to embarrass the university?”
Amelia looked directly at her.
“I'm here to graduate.”
Luna laughed.
“You should be more worried about finding the father of those babies.”
A small crowd gathered.
Amelia felt their eyes.
Their whispers.
Their judgment.
But she refused to lower her head.
“My children are not your business.”
Luna stepped closer.
“Everything about you is embarrassing.”
Then she whispered:
“Just like your mother.”
Amelia's expression changed.
“Don't talk about her.”
“Why? She's dead.”
Amelia slapped her.
The sound echoed through the hallway.
Luna stared at her in disbelief.
Then smiled.
“Perfect.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I'll make sure the dean sees that.”
Twenty minutes later, Amelia was summoned to the administration office.
Luna had accused her of assault.
The dean looked uncomfortable.
“Miss Jones, we may have to postpone your performance.”
Amelia's stomach tightened.
“Please. This is my last requirement.”
“I'm sorry.”
Then the office door opened.
Christian Ryder stepped inside.
The dean stood immediately.
“Mr. Ryder.”
Christian ignored him.
His eyes found Amelia.
She went still.
He had changed into a black suit.
His face looked exhausted.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Christian turned toward the dean.
“Is there a problem with her graduation?”
The dean cleared his throat.
“A disciplinary complaint.”
Christian looked at Amelia.
“What happened?”
She folded her arms.
“Nothing you need to fix.”
Christian's jaw tightened.
“Amelia—”
“I said I can handle it.”
He studied her.
Then slowly nodded.
“Fine.”
He stepped aside.
And for the first time, he allowed her to fight her own battle.
Amelia presented the messages Luna had sent over the previous months.
Threats.
Insults.
Proof that Luna had stolen money from her tuition account.
The dean's expression changed.
Luna was summoned.
And by the time the investigation ended, Amelia was cleared to perform.
That afternoon, she walked onto the stage.
Not in designer silk.
Not wearing expensive diamonds.
Just a dark blue dress Freya had chosen.
She sat at the grand piano.
Closed her eyes.
And began to play.
The music was beautiful.
Painful.
Filled with everything she had lost.
Her mother.
Her home.
Her childhood.
The love she had never received.
Christian stood at the back of the auditorium.
He had heard countless professional musicians.
But he had never heard anything like this.
When Amelia finished, the audience rose to its feet.
Christian didn't applaud immediately.
He was staring at her.
As though seeing her for the first time.
Henry leaned toward him.
“She's incredible.”
Christian whispered:
“I know.”
After the performance, Amelia found Christian waiting outside.
“You played beautifully,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“I owe you an apology.”
She looked at him.
“For which part?”
He said nothing.
“The hospital?” she continued. “The money? The way you spoke to me at the club? Or the fact that you never once looked for me?”
Christian swallowed.
“All of it.”
Amelia's eyes filled.
“You don't get to erase eight months with two words.”
“I know.”
“Then stop following me.”
She turned to leave.
Christian caught sight of the chain around her neck.
The wedding ring.
His ring.
He stared.
“Amelia.”
She stopped.
“Why did you keep it?”
Her fingers closed around the necklace.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered:
“Because when everyone else abandoned me, I wanted to believe my husband might come back.”
Christian's face changed.
But before he could answer, a young man hurried toward them.
“Amelia!”
Lucian Brooks.
Her oldest friend.
He wrapped his arms around her carefully.
Christian's expression hardened.
“Who is he?”
Amelia looked at Christian.
“Someone who was there when you weren't.”
May you like
And for the first time, Christian Ryder felt something more painful than anger.
Jealousy.
