Amelia’s lips trembled ever so slightly.
There was zero subtlety in Anselme’s words—just blunt insult, laced with a smirk that said he was enjoying the show.
She thought she’d built up a thick enough skin by now, but his tone still sent a chill down her spine.
Truth was, in their circle, no one ever really treated her like an equal.
Not even Simon.
She stared back at Anselme, steeling herself, trying her best to keep her composure flawless.
“Homewrecker?
What makes you say that?”
“You took Vivian’ spot.
I thought you had some self-awareness, Amelia, but clearly, I overestimated you.”
Amelia let out a short laugh.
“That’s rich.
If Simon still wanted Vivian, do you really think I’d even be here?
Or are you implying I’m that powerful that I can control his decisions?
He chose to keep me, so this position?
It’s mine.
Maybe you guys should mind your own business.”
She paused for a beat, then continued, her voice a shade colder.
“And another thing—if I’m the so-called slut here, then what does that make you, Anselme?
A dog who gets all worked up at the mere scent of me?
Or just a pathetic loser who obsesses over what he can’t have but wouldn’t appreciate even if he did?”
Anselme’s smirk vanished in a flash.
Yeah, he’d been thinking about Amelia.
A lot.
So much that it was driving him nuts.
Especially after that call where Simon basically let him listen in on…
whatever that was.
It had messed with his head big time.
But now that Amelia had called him out straight to his face, all he felt was rage bubbling up.
One day, when she was his, he’d make sure she regretted talking back—he’d grind that sharp tongue of hers right down before tossing her aside.
“Do you not even know what shame means?”
Amelia stood up, her face calm but her eyes cold.
“Why should I bother with shame when talking to someone who clearly doesn’t?”
With that, she turned and walked out without hesitation.
The moment she stepped out of the garden, she exhaled slowly, quietly trying to steady herself.
…
Back at the office, the first thing she saw was Vivian rifling through her desk.
In Vivian’s hand—Amelia’s meds to prevent miscarriage.
“Vivian!
Who told you you could touch my stuff?!”
Amelia’s voice rose as she rushed over and snatched the bottle from Vivian’s hand.
Vivian caught the tension in her face and sneered, “Amelia, what are you taking?
Don’t tell me it’s some terminal illness or something?”
“This has nothing to do with you.” She slipped the medicine back into her bag.
“Miss Collins, even a kid should know not to go rummaging through someone else’s stuff.
Is that what you call manners?”
Vivian let out a careless laugh.
“Manners?
Please.”
That word—bastard—stabbed right into Amelia’s chest.
Back then, Grace had been with William Collins first.
But just because she had no family background, William dumped her without a second thought.
And Amelia had carried the label of an illegitimate child all these years.
Now, it hit her extra hard—her own child might have to bear the same.
She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself.
Arguing with Vivian was pointless.
Getting into it now would only make things worse for her.
“When will you be available to confirm the shooting schedule for the endorsement?
It’d save us all from running in circles.”
Vivian snorted.
“What do you mean ‘us’?
Aren’t all these problems because of your screw-up?”
Amelia kept her cool.
“So, when would be a good time for you?”
“No idea.
Talk to my agent.”
With that, she turned around and walked out.
She stepped outside before looking down at the medicine clenched in her palm.
She didn’t go see Simon either, just gave him a call—and left.
Once she stepped out of the office, she finally made a call.
“Dad, help me find a drug test expert.”
…
Amelia tried to reach Vivian’ agent again, but no one picked up.
She let out a long sigh, pressed her fingers to her temples.
They weren’t even trying to hide they were messing with her at this point.
“What now, boss?
Want me to try talking to Mr.
Johnson again?”
Amelia gave a short laugh, cold and bitter.
“Talk to Simon?
What for?”
Like he’d ever make things hard for his first love.
She stood silent for a beat, then hit another number on her phone.
The line was answered quickly.
“Mr.
Cooper, sorry for the sudden call.
We’re interested in collaborating with Ms.
Smith, but somehow we lost her contact.
Do you think you could ask her to reach out to me?
Yes, that’s right.
Thank you so much.
I’ll treat you to dinner sometime, maybe?”
The man chuckled on the other end.
“Sometime?
Let’s not wait.
I’m free tonight.”
The smile on Amelia’s face froze for a second.
I’ll pick a restaurant and let you know.
Please have Ms.
Smith reach out to me as soon as possible.”
She hung up, fingers gripping the phone so tight her knuckles were pale.
Zachary Cooper.
The notorious boss of Eastvale Media.
Zachary had always been notorious in the circle for being a creep — who knew how many of his artists he’d taken advantage of?
Amelia had been dragged along to dinner with him twice by Simon.
And yeah, both times Zachary was all kinds of handsy.
But with Simon around, the guy never dared cross any real lines.
Today, though?
There’s no way Simon’s coming with her.
He wasn’t going to do her any favors.
If he actually gave a damn, Vivian and her manager wouldn’t have the guts to mess with her like this.
Not only was he not helping — he was clearly letting it happen.
Amelia could vaguely sense it — Simon was still pissed.
But that just didn’t make sense.
After everything that happened last night, if anything, she should be the one mad.
So what exactly had set him off?
That dinner?
She ran through it over and over in her head, but it was a dead end.
Shaking off the thoughts, she shifted focus — now she had to figure out how to deal with Zachary.
In the end, she decided on a private kitchen restaurant known for its open-air seating.
A spot with lots of foot traffic — Zachary would think twice before pulling anything shady.
Just as she wrapped that up, a call came through from Vivian’s manager.
“Didn’t think Miss Clarke was actually connected to Mr.
Cooper.”
Amelia chuckled, voice light but firm.
“We all work in the same industry — everyone’s got a few contacts, right, Ms.
Smith?”
That one line left the agent totally speechless.”
Miss Clarke, is Mr.
Cooper one of your private guests too?”
Amelia ignored the sarcasm in her voice and stayed calm.
“So, has Ms.
Collins’ schedule been confirmed or not?”
The agent replied through gritted teeth, “I checked Vivian’s availability, and she’s free tomorrow.”
“Great, then please make sure she gets to the studio on time.
Also, if anything comes up, just call me directly.
You’ve got my number, right?
Isn’t a quick call easier than playing messenger?”
“Of course.
Goodbye, Miss Clarke.”
After hanging up, Amelia contacted the studio to finalize things.
By then, it was already the end of the workday.
She had booked a private restaurant halfway up the hill.
Surrounded by mountains and water, the place had a unique vibe.
It specialized in dishes inspired by nature, and most guests preferred the open-air seating for the view.
That was exactly why Amelia had chosen this location.
What she didn’t expect was that after giving her name at the front desk, she was led straight to a private room instead.