Amara's POV
A sharp knock jolted me out of restless sleep. I blinked at the pale dawn light spilling through the curtains, my body heavy, my head still foggy from last night. Before I could even sit up, the door swung open and Tessa barged in, her hair a tousled halo, her voice pitched with giddy triumph.
"Amara. Wake up, it worked."
I groaned, dragging the blanket higher over my chest. "What worked? Tessa, it's" I squinted at the clock. "Six in the morning."
She ignored me completely, bouncing to the edge of the bed, her phone clutched like a prize. "My idea. You and Adrian, the date, the wine, do not you get it? It worked. Trey was jealous. Completely, utterly jealous."
My heart tripped in my chest. "Tessa"
"He carried you," she said dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Carried you, Amara. In his arms. And now look" She shoved the phone toward me, screen bright. "It's everywhere. The scandal that will finally stop him from marrying Pauline."
The words slammed into me like a blow. My fingers trembled as I took the phone, dreading what I would see.
And then there it was, picture after picture, captured in merciless clarity. Trey carrying me through the estate's grand doors, my head resting against his chest, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. Not cold. Not dismissive. But different.
Protective. Possessive.
For one fragile heartbeat, my stupid heart betrayed me. It leapt. It hoped. Because the way he looked at me, like I belonged in his arms, was not something you could fake. It was not something a camera could invent.
But that fragile hope was already cracking under the weight of reality. I pressed a shaking hand to my mouth, bile rising with dread.
"Tessa, this is not a game," I whispered, my voice breaking. "He is marrying Pauline. You know how much he wants that wedding perfect. If the press twists this, if Pauline sees this"
"Exactly," Tessa cut in, eyes blazing. "Let Pauline see. Let the world see. This is your chance, Amara. He does not look at her like that. He never has. But you? God, look at these pictures."
I could not. Not again. Not when my chest was already splintering. Because yes, he looked at me differently, but that did not mean it was enough.
By midmorning, the mansion buzzed like a hornet's nest. Staff whispered in the halls. Phones rang nonstop. I stayed hidden in my room, hands clenched tight around my tablet, waiting for the blow I knew was coming.
And it came.
The press conference.
The video streamed live, reporters packed like vultures. Trey stood at the podium, tall and immaculate in his suit, every inch the unshakable heir. Pauline glided beside him, diamonds winking at her throat, her hand tucked neatly into the crook of his arm.
My lungs locked.
He leaned toward the microphones, voice cool and steady, each word deliberate. "I want to clarify the pictures circulating from last night. The woman you saw with me is not my fiancée. She is my younger sister's friend, someone I've known since childhood, the daughter of one of our household staff. She was intoxicated after an evening out, and as her family friend, I did what any responsible man would do. I carried her to safety. Nothing more."
His eyes flicked briefly to Pauline, his hand covering hers on the podium. "This," he said firmly, "is my bride. My wife to be. Pauline."
The cameras flashed like lightning. The applause rose like thunder.
And my heart shattered.
Because in a single breath, he erased everything the pictures had almost promised. Everything my foolish heart had dared to hope. I was nothing but the maid's daughter. A childhood shadow. A scandal to be managed.
I shut the tablet with a snap, pressing it hard against my chest as though it could stop the ache tearing through me.
He had carried me like I belonged to him. Looked at me like I was more. And then, in front of the world, he had chosen her. Declared her his everything, while I was reduced to a mistake in his arms.
My chest heaved, tears stinging hot, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not when the whole world already believed his version.
I had dreamed, for one fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, I was more than the maid's daughter.
But Trey Alvarez had reminded me, with ruthless clarity, exactly who I was.
And who I would never be.
Tessa did not even knock. My door slammed open at six in the morning, the sound making me jolt upright. She was a whirlwind of tangled hair and fury, phone clutched in her hand like it was a weapon.
"I'm sorry, Amara," she blurted, her voice ragged. "I thought it worked. I thought last night would finally push him over the edge, that he'd admit what I know, that he wants you. But Trey" Her throat worked, and she shook her head hard. "Trey's too damn strong willed. He'll never follow his heart."
The words knocked the air out of me. I sank back onto the bed, staring at the blanket pooled around my legs.
"It's fine," I lied, my voice thin. "Can I just leave today, Tess? Cover for me. Tell your brother I went to see the florist. Please. I just I need to be alone."
Her silence pressed on me, and then the question came, the one I could not outrun.
"Do you still love him?"
My laugh was sharp, brittle, and wrong. "Yes. God help me, yes. And I hate myself for it. I'm still that stupid girl from ten years ago who never learned."
Tessa's eyes shimmered as she dropped beside me and pulled me into her arms. "You're not stupid," she whispered fiercely. "You're in love. And I swear to you, Trey loves you too. I've seen it my whole life."
I shook my head against her shoulder, tears hot and unrelenting. "I wanted you as my sister, Tess. But your brother" My chest cracked as I forced the words out. "He'll never have me. No matter what we do, it's impossible."
Her grip tightened, as if holding me together. "Then let me help. Let me pay the fines, take the heat. This was my idea, Amara."
I pulled back, wiping my cheeks with trembling hands. "No. You do not fix this for me. I'll handle it. Just cover for me for one day. That's all I need."
Her jaw flexed, but she nodded. "One day."
I gathered my bag and slipped out of the mansion like a thief, marble halls echoing behind me. The world outside was blinding with sunlight, cruel in its brightness. Every step away from that house felt like dragging a weight that would never lift.
When I reached our small apartment, my mother looked up from the stove in surprise. The scent of garlic and onions hung in the air. The table was too neat, only two place settings instead of three.
"Amara?" she blinked. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the Alvarez mansion until the wedding was over."
I forced a smile, brittle and aching. "I just missed you, Mom. And Crystal."
At her name, my mother's expression softened. "She left early for class. You know how busy college keeps her."
The words hit like a reminder of everything I'd lost, how life kept moving, how Crystal was building her future while I was drowning in a past I could not escape.
"We miss you," Mom said gently. "Even if the house feels emptier these days."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I missed you too."
Her eyes searched mine, then narrowed slightly. "How's the mansion? And Trey?"
My chest caved, but I plastered on a smile that felt like glass about to crack. "He's excited about the wedding. He and Pauline they fit. They belong together. Same circle, same world." The words tasted like splinters, slicing me from the inside out.
She nodded slowly, satisfied with the mask I wore. But when I excused myself to my old room, I did not come out again.
I locked the door and let the silence consume me. The posters were gone, the shelves half empty, but the walls still hummed with the ghosts of my younger self, the girl who sketched love into margins and believed one smile could mean forever.
I curled on the bed, clutching the pillow like it might hold me together. Tomorrow, I'd return to the mansion. Tomorrow, I'd wear the mask Trey could never strip away.
Not the maid's daughter who still loved him.
Not the fool still clinging to a heart he had already crushed in front of the world.
Just the wedding planner.
And no matter how much my heart screamed, no matter how Tessa begged, I would eat alone, work alone, breathe alone if I had to.
Because it was the only way I'd survive.
By the afternoon, the walls of my room felt too tight, too heavy, like they might cave in if I stayed a second longer. So I dragged myself out, forcing my legs to carry me back into a world where I still had control.
The office smelled like fresh paper and coffee the moment I walked in. My staff froze for a second, and then their faces lit up, real smiles, warm, unguarded, not the kind I saw at the mansion where every expression was calculated and polished.
"Boss. You're here," one of them exclaimed, and before I could protest, I was surrounded, questions, updates, laughter spilling into the air. For the first time since that awful morning, I felt the weight in my chest loosen.
I let myself sink into the rhythm of work. Spreadsheets, calls, color palettes, menus. My hands did not stop moving, my voice did not waver. Task after task, I buried the memory of Trey's press conference under deadlines and schedules, as if order could erase the chaos in my heart. And for a while, it worked.
When the clock edged toward late afternoon, I glanced at my phone and texted Crystal. I'll pick you up after class.
Her reply came instantly, three hearts and a smiley face that made me laugh despite myself.
By the time I parked outside the university, the campus buzzed with energy, students pouring out with notebooks tucked under their arms, laughter carrying on the wind. And then there she was, waving wildly, her bag slung across her shoulder, her face lit with excitement.
"Amara," she called, sliding into the passenger seat before I'd even unbuckled. "You won't believe what happened today"
And just like that, she was off. Stories about her professors, her classmates, the drama of group projects and cafeteria gossip spilled out of her in a rush. I barely had to say a word. I just let her voice fill the car, filling the silence that had haunted me all day.
By the time we reached the apartment, my cheeks actually hurt from smiling. Crystal had not stopped talking once, her energy bubbling over, her laughter tugging me back from the edge of the storm I had been drowning in.
The second I unlocked the door, the smell of garlic and rice drifted from the kitchen. Mom peeked out, her face lighting when she saw us. For the first time in what felt like forever, I exhaled, a real exhale.
It was nice, no, it was healing, to be home. To be with people who did not see me as a planner, a pawn, or a mistake. Just Amara. Their Amara. Loved without doubt, without pretense, without conditions.
And for one fragile moment, I let myself lean into it. Because in this tiny apartment, laughter echoing against chipped walls and mismatched furniture, I felt safer than I ever had in all the marble and chandeliers of the Alvarez mansion.
Here, I belonged.
Here, I was enough.