Chapter 78 –Misunderstood Loyalty
Amber told herself she didn't care.
She repeated it like a mantra.
Like a prayer.
Like something that might become true if she said it enough times.
It's a contract.
It's business.
He's not yours.
Then why did it feel like something had just been stolen from her?
—
The gala grew louder after Victoria left.
Music rose.
Glasses clinked.
Laughter spilled too bright, too artificial.
But Amber couldn't hear any of it properly.
Everything sounded underwater.
Distant.
Muted.
Because her brain kept replaying one image—
The way Alex said her name.
Victoria.
Not cold.
Not indifferent.
Not businesslike.
Soft.
Familiar.
Like muscle memory.
Like history.
Like something once loved.
Amber swallowed hard and grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
She didn't even like champagne.
Too bitter.
Too sharp.
Still drank it anyway.
Alex noticed immediately.
"You're drinking too fast."
"I'm pacing myself."
"You're not."
"I'm fine."
"You're not," he repeated.
His voice was quiet, but firm.
The kind that usually calmed her.
Tonight it irritated her.
"Stop monitoring me," she muttered.
"I'm not monitoring you."
"You always are."
"That's my job."
"I didn't hire you as security."
"No," he said. "You hired me as your husband."
The word hit harder than it should.
Husband.
Fake.
Temporary.
Replaceable.
She forced a smile. "Right. For optics."
He watched her for a long moment.
Like he knew something was off.
Like he wanted to ask.
But didn't.
Because neither of them did emotional honesty well.
So they kept walking.
Greeting people.
Smiling.
Pretending.
—
An hour later, Amber needed air.
Or space.
Or distance.
Something.
"I'm stepping out," she told him.
"I'll come—"
"No," she cut in too quickly. "It's just the restroom."
A lie.
He studied her.
Then nodded.
"Don't disappear."
She didn't answer.
Because part of her wanted to.
—
The corridor outside the ballroom was quiet.
Carpeted.
Dim.
Cool.
Finally.
No cameras.
No whispers.
No Victoria.
Amber leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly.
"What is wrong with you…" she muttered to herself.
Jealousy didn't suit her.
She'd never been the jealous type.
Men chased her.
Not the other way around.
She didn't compete.
Didn't compare.
Didn't care.
So why did that woman—
that calm, elegant ghost—
feel like a threat?
"She's just his ex," Amber whispered.
But her chest disagreed.
Because not all exes were equal.
Some were forgettable.
Some were lessons.
And some…
Some were the kind you never really got over.
The kind you still carried in your silence.
Alex didn't talk about Victoria.
Ever.
Which meant one thing.
It still hurt.
And pain that deep didn't disappear.
It buried itself.
Then waited.
The thought made Amber's stomach twist.
Before she could spiral further—
Voices echoed down the hall.
Low.
Male.
Familiar.
Alex.
She stiffened instinctively.
He sounded tense.
"…this isn't appropriate tonight."
Another voice answered.
Female.
Soft.
Controlled.
Victoria.
Amber's heart slammed.
They were close.
Too close.
Instinct told her to walk away.
To give them privacy.
To act mature.
Instead—
She stayed.
Hidden just around the corner.
Listening.
Hating herself for it.
—
"I didn't mean to corner you," Victoria said quietly.
"You didn't," Alex replied.
"You always lie when you're uncomfortable."
A pause.
Amber's nails dug into her palm.
They sounded…
intimate.
Too intimate.
Like old habits.
Like they knew each other too well.
"I just wanted to talk," Victoria continued. "We never really finished things properly."
"There's nothing left to finish."
"You sure about that?"
Silence.
Too long.
Too loaded.
Amber's chest tightened.
Say something.
Deny it.
End it.
But Alex didn't speak.
And silence was worse than words.
Victoria sighed softly.
"I heard about the engagement."
"It's happening."
"So you're really moving on."
"Yes."
"Do you love her?"
The question hit Amber like a slap.
Her breath caught.
Her entire body went still.
Everything inside her waited.
Stupidly.
Desperately.
Like the answer mattered.
Like it could break her.
Alex finally spoke.
"…That's not relevant."
Amber's stomach dropped.
Not relevant?
Not yes.
Not even no.
Just—
not relevant.
Like she was paperwork.
Like she was a transaction.
Like she didn't matter enough to be discussed emotionally.
Her throat burned.
Victoria's voice softened.
"You always do this," she said. "You hide behind logic. Even back then."
"Victoria—"
"You think if you don't name your feelings, they don't exist."
"That's not why we ended."
"No," she agreed quietly. "We ended because you chose the company over me."
Amber froze.
What?
"You chose power," Victoria continued. "Every time. Even when it cost us."
"I made the only decision that kept everything from collapsing."
"And I understood," she said gently. "I always understood. That's why I stayed as long as I did."
Stayed.
As long as I did.
God.
They sounded like a real relationship.
Not some passing fling.
Something deep.
Something built.
Something Amber could never compete with.
Because contracts didn't create history.
Shared sacrifices did.
"I'm not here to restart anything," Victoria added. "I just needed to know you're… okay."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I don't need saving."
"I know," she said softly. "You never let anyone save you."
Amber couldn't listen anymore.
Each word felt like glass.
Like she was intruding on something sacred.
Something that never belonged to her.
Then—
Victoria said the one thing that destroyed her completely.
"…I'll always care about you, Alex. That won't change."
Amber's chest physically hurt.
Always.
Care.
About you.
Not past tense.
Present.
Always.
Alex didn't respond.
And that—
that silence—
felt louder than any confession.
That was it.
She couldn't stand there another second.
Before she did something stupid.
Or cried.
Or worse—
cared too much.
Amber turned and walked away quickly.
Heels sharp against the floor.
Heart racing.
Thoughts spiraling.
You're temporary.
You're convenient.
You're a contract.
Of course he didn't say he loved you.
Why would he?
This wasn't love.
It was strategy.
Image.
Business.
And you—
You're just filling space someone else left behind.
By the time she reached the balcony doors, her composure had snapped completely.
Cold night air hit her face.
She gripped the railing hard.
"Idiot," she whispered to herself.
"Why does it even matter?"
But it did.
God, it did.
Because somewhere along the line—
Without permission.
Without warning.
Without logic—
She had started to fall.
And falling for a man who still carried another woman in his silence?
That was the kind of mistake she swore she'd never make again.
—
Behind her, the ballroom doors opened.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Familiar.
Alex.
Of course.
He always found her.
She didn't turn.
Didn't trust her face.
"Amber," he said quietly.
"I'm fine."
"You're lying."
"Go back inside."
"Talk to me."
"No."
Silence stretched.
Then—
"Did you hear us?" he asked.
Her grip tightened.
Too late.
Too accurate.
"Does it matter?" she said coldly.
"Yes."
She laughed softly.
Bitter.
"It's fine, Alex. You don't owe me explanations. This is business, remember?"
"That's not what this is anymore."
"Then what is it?"
He didn't answer fast enough.
And that hesitation?
It shattered something inside her.
"Exactly," she whispered.
And for the first time—
Amber didn't feel like the fearless Gareth sister.
She felt like a girl about to get her heart broken.