Chapter 39: The Aura of an Empress

“Oh,” Lara said casually, meeting Amelia’s eyes in the mirror, “it’s you.”

“You know me?” Amelia asked as she straightened her back.

Lara hesitated as she looked at the reflection of the girl in the mirror whose eyes had turned red from crying.

“I just heard some comments about you.”

“What kind of comments?” Amelia raised her eyebrows.

Lara glanced at her as if she were assessing her.

“That you and Liam are not a good match and that he deserves someone better.”

Amelia froze and looked at Lara with an unfathomable expression.

If Liam had chosen her, maybe she could fight for him.

But how could she compete with someone he already loved?

“They are right,” she whispered. “I don’t deserve him…”

The words felt heavy but they are the truth.

She slid down slowly until her back hit the cold tiled wall.

Then she hugged her knees like a child.

The sobs came harder.

Her body shook with each one, thin shoulders trembling, breaths breaking apart in her throat. She looked small. Too small for the restroom around her.

Like she didn’t fit anywhere.

Minutes passed. Or maybe just seconds.

She didn’t know.

All she knew was the ache.

She wiped her face quickly with her sleeve, but it was useless. Her eyes were swollen, nose red, breath still hitching.

Amelia looked up and found Lara looking down at her.

Still perfectly composed. Still immaculate. Not a single strand of hair out of place.

Even under harsh restroom lights, she looked sharp and untouchable.

Like someone carved from glass and steel.

The contrast made Amelia want to cry again.

“I’m sorry…” Amelia muttered, scrambling to her feet. “I—I’ll leave—”

“Stay.”

Amelia stopped automatically.

Lara studied her for a moment, eyes clear and assessing—not cruel, just direct.

“That Summer, are you intimidated by her?” Lara asked.

Amelia blinked. “Intimidated?”

Lara leaned lightly against the counter, crossing her arms.

“She is getting on you on purpose.”

The words landed like stones.

Amelia’s stomach dropped.

“I know. She likes Liam.”

Lara nodded.

“The guests think you’re clinging to Liam because your grandfather saved him.”

Each sentence was calm. Matter-of-fact. No sugarcoating.

Every word sliced cleanly.

And the worst part?

They sounded exactly like Amelia’s own thoughts.

Her vision blurred again.

“I…” Her voice cracked. “I know. But I am not clinging to him. It’s Grandpa’s arrangement.”

Lara’s brow lifted slightly.

Silence filled the room as Lara simply watched her.

As if measuring something Amelia couldn’t see.

“You really believe that?” Lara asked quietly.

Amelia nodded.

Of course she did.

How could she not?

Lara exhaled softly through her nose.

“Well,” she said at last, “no wonder they’re bold enough to gossip.”

Amelia looked up, confused.

“If you already think you don’t deserve him,” Lara continued evenly, “then you’ve surrendered before anyone even fought you.”

The words weren’t cruel. But they weren’t gentle either. They were sharp.

And they hurt in a completely different way.

Amelia stared at Lara. She did not see the nanny that they were talking about. Instead, she was exuding an aura akin to that of an empress.

The restroom felt smaller.

Like the walls had crept inward while Amelia wasn’t looking.

Lara’s words didn’t fade after she said them.

They echoed.

Unworthy.Plain.Too soft.Summer suits him better.

Over and over.

Like whispers trapped inside her skull.

Amelia stared at the floor tiles.

She suddenly felt dirty standing there.

“… I didn’t ask for this,” she murmured.

Lara didn’t respond.

“I didn’t ask to be his fiancée just as he did not choose me. I didn’t ask for our grandfathers to arrange anything. I didn’t ask for him to feel responsible for me.”

Her voice shook harder with every sentence.

“But everyone looks at me like I stole something, that I tricked him.”

Her throat tightened, and her nails dug into her palms.

“I didn’t do anything.”

That was the problem. She’d never done anything. She hadn’t fought for Liam. Hadn’t chased him.

Hadn’t even confessed properly.

She had just existed, and somehow ended up in a place everyone else thought she didn’t deserve.

A hollow laugh slipped out. It was small and broken.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if we never met,” she whispered.

The moment the words left her mouth, something inside her chest twisted painfully.

But she didn’t take them back.

“If I and Grandpa hadn’t found them that day… Liam would’ve gone home eventually. He would’ve met Summer again. Everything would’ve gone back to normal.”

Her breathing turned uneven.

Lara’s reflection watched her through the mirror.

Still quiet.

Still unreadable.

The silence made Amelia ramble more, like she was falling and grabbing for anything to hold onto.

“Summer’s pretty,” she said numbly. “She knows how to talk to people. Everyone likes her. When she stands next to him, they look right together.”

She swallowed.

“When I stand next to him… I feel like a charity case.”

There it was. The ugliest thought. The one she never dared say out loud.

Her vision blurred again.

“He’s just being kind to me,” she whispered. “Because he feels indebted. Not because he—”

Her voice snapped.

She couldn’t even say likes me. Because what if that was a lie too? What if every smile Liam gave her in the past was just an obligation?

What if every gentle word was pity?

The idea crawled under her skin.

“I don’t want his pity,” she choked. “I don’t want something forced. I don’t want to beg someone to stay with me.”

Her shoulders started shaking again.

“But if he leaves…”

Her fingers clutched the fabric over her chest.

It hurt to breathe.

“I don’t think I can handle it.”

There was no pride left. No dignity. Just raw and ugly fear.

Like a child terrified of being abandoned.

She slowly slid down the wall again, knees folding beneath her.

“I’m tired,” she whispered.

Not physically, but emotionally. She was soul-deep tired.

Hope was the worst part.

Hope made everything hurt more.

Maybe… maybe if she stopped expecting anything, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Maybe if she stepped away first—

Before he could choose Summer.

Before people could laugh.

Before she embarrassed herself further—

Then at least she’d keep a shred of dignity.

Right?

Her mind clung to that thought desperately.

Leave first.

If she left first, it wouldn’t count as being abandoned.

It would be her choice.

“… maybe I should just break it off,” she murmured blankly.

The words sounded distant. Like someone else said them.

“Tell Grandpa it won’t work. Tell Liam he doesn’t have to feel responsible anymore.”

Her chest tightened so hard she thought she might be sick.

“But… that’s better, isn’t it?”

Her voice cracked into a whisper.

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