The next morning, the sun filtered through Amelia's windows, casting a warm glow across the room. Grace stood behind her, carefully pinning her hair in place, but Amelia's mind was elsewhere — sharp, focused.
No more nice. No more cunning smiles or pretending to be weak. That version of Amelia is gone.
She had made up her mind. Today was the day she would stop playing defense.
"Grace," she said calmly, her tone firm. "Send for Beatrice. We're going to pay Lady Celina a visit."
Grace blinked but said nothing. Within minutes, Beatrice arrived, surprised to be summoned so early. Amelia didn't explain — she simply stood, composed and collected, and walked straight out of her room, Beatrice trailing behind her like a silent shadow.
They reached Celina's chamber without delay. As expected, Celina was preening in front of her mirror, being laced into a pale lavender gown by her handmaid.
The moment she saw Amelia walk in, Celina raised a brow. "What a surprise. I didn't know you were—"
"Out," Amelia said coldly.
The maid hesitated.
"I said out," Celina repeated, sharper now, but her eyes narrowed when she realized Amelia wasn't smiling.
The maid still didn't move. Beatrice stepped forward.
"You heard her lady. Leave," she said, and with a final glare, the maid curtsied and slipped out.
Celina turned around slowly, folding her arms. "To what do I owe the honor—"
Before she could finish, Amelia gave a quiet order: "Beatrice. Hold her hands."
"What?" Celina blinked in disbelief as Beatrice grabbed both her wrists and pinned them behind her back.
Amelia stepped forward, pulling out a folded cloth from her sleeve. "Just in case you try screaming. Can't have your reputation ruined by shrieking like a madwoman."
Celina jerked but froze when Amelia leaned in, her voice low and icy. "Now answer me. Was it you? Did you kill my rabbit and destroy my garden?"
Celina smirked, rolling her eyes like it was all beneath her.
Slap.
The sound cracked through the room.
Amelia's palm stung, but her anger was hotter. Celina's head jerked to the side, and her lips parted in shock.
"I'm not here to play games," Amelia said, her voice tight. "Did you send your friends to push me off the balcony?"
Celina swallowed, blinking away tears of rage as her cheek turned red. "You're mad—!"
"You better pray I never find proof," Amelia cut in. "Because if I do, Celina, I'll make sure you're not just disgraced—you'll wish you'd been exiled instead."
There was no more action. No trembling damsel. No mild smile.
This was Lady Amelia of the Arrowwinds. And she was done being soft.
Beatrice released Celina's hands. Amelia didn't say another word. She adjusted her sleeves, turned around, and walked out as if nothing had happened.
Amelia strolled into the dining room with all the grace expected of a noble daughter, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"Good morning," she greeted with a polite smile.
The Viscount looked up from his tea. "Ah, Lady Amelia. You're early today."
Lady Geneva merely glanced her way, feigning a smile of civility. "Good morning, dear."
"She won't be joining us," Amelia said smoothly, taking her seat without invitation. "Celina is resting. She had a… long night."
Lady Geneva's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. "Oh. Is that so?"
"Yes." Amelia poured herself a cup of tea, her tone calm, her face unreadable.
The Viscount dabbed his lips with a napkin and asked, "Did your coming-of-age ceremony go well yesterday? I hear the King was generous."
"Yes, it went as expected," Amelia replied with a measured nod. "The King gave his blessing, and Princess Julia was kind enough to greet me personally."
"Hmm. Good. Good." The Viscount didn't press further, already moving on to buttering his bread, unconcerned.
Amelia kept her expression poised, chewing slowly, nodding when needed. Inside, she was boiling.
These two sat here last night knowing full well what happened. Knowing that their favorite child tried to kill me. And they didn't even flinch. Not even a single word of concern.
She finished the rest of her meal in silence, then stood with a soft smile. "Please excuse me. I'll be retiring to my room."
They barely responded.
Back in her chamber, the smile dropped the moment the door closed.
She flung off her shoes, pacing the room with clenched fists.
"Useless, miserable Viscount," she hissed under her breath. "Stupid, scheming stepmother. You think I don't know what you're doing? You all saw me nearly fall to my death, and you're still pretending nothing happened."
She stood by the window, taking a deep breath.
But not this time. I'm not going to let it slide. One by one, I'll deal with all of you.
Then she paused.
Right. Lord Edwin.
He didn't have to catch her. He didn't have to help her. But he did. He even carried her to the carriage like a proper gentleman. She owed him at least a word of gratitude.
She sat down at her desk, pulled out her finest parchment, and dipped the quill in ink.
Dear Lord Edwin,
I hope this message reaches you in good health.
I wanted to express my sincerest gratitude for what you did yesterday. Your timely intervention not only spared me injury but saved me from a far more tragic incident.
Though we barely know one another, I am deeply grateful for your kindness. Please accept my thanks, and I hope to have the opportunity to return the favor someday.
Warm regards,
Lady Amelia of the Harrowwinds
She sealed the letter and handed it to Grace.
"Make sure this is delivered to Lord Edwin. And I mean directly to him, not his servants. Make it clear it's personal."
Grace nodded. "Yes, milady."
As the door closed behind her, Amelia leaned back in her chair, her expression calm once more.
But her eyes burned cold.
From now on, no one touches me without consequences. Not Selina. Not Geneva. Not even the Viscount himself.