Chapter 2 — The Accusation

Amelia

The chandelier above the Stone Estate’s dining room cast a cold, brittle light over the table, its crystals throwing fractured rainbows across the walls. Amelia’s gaze drifted to her untouched plate of salmon, its perfect presentation at odds with the growing tension that thickened the air. Every clink of silverware felt amplified, the room holding its collective breath. The glossy surface of the dining table reflected the faces of its occupants: Callum at the head, his expression carved from stone; Rose, poised and serpentine, her icy blue eyes glinting with something unreadable; and Harry, seated beside Amelia, his discomfort etched into the stiffness of his shoulders.

Amelia’s fingers brushed the slightly askew knot of Harry’s tie. She adjusted it carefully, a silent reassurance. Harry’s green eyes flicked to hers, offering a faint, grateful smile that didn’t quite reach his lips. She squeezed his arm gently, a gesture meant to steady him—and herself.

“So, Harry,” Rose began, her voice sliding into the room like a dagger cloaked in silk, “how’s the job search going?”

Amelia’s hand froze midair. Rose’s words, laced with false sweetness, sent a ripple of unease down her spine. She didn’t need to look at Harry to feel his tension, the way his hand clenched around the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening.

“It’s... going,” Harry replied, his tone strained yet measured. “I’ve got a few prospects.”

Rose leaned back in her chair, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “How wonderful,” she drawled, tilting her wine glass lazily. “I imagine it must be difficult, with the market so competitive these days. But I’m sure Amelia will make sure you land on your feet, won’t she?” Her gaze shifted to Amelia, the words delivered with saccharine venom.

Amelia held Rose’s gaze, her hazel eyes steady and unyielding. “Harry’s always managed just fine on his own,” she replied, her voice calm but firm. “He doesn’t need me—or anyone else—to hold his hand.”

Rose’s smile sharpened, though it failed to reach her eyes. “Of course. Such an admirable bond the two of you share.”

The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Amelia could feel Callum’s gaze on her, but she refused to look, her focus locked on Rose. She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of flinching.

“Let’s not turn dinner into an interrogation,” Callum said abruptly, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. His piercing blue eyes narrowed at his sister, a flicker of irritation breaking through his composed exterior.

Rose raised her hands in mock innocence, her expression one of exaggerated hurt. “Interrogation? I didn’t mean anything by it, Callum. I was merely making conversation. It’s just... fascinating. Such closeness.” Her gaze lingered on Harry a beat too long, her smile growing ever so slightly.

Amelia’s grip on her napkin tightened beneath the table. She could feel Harry tense beside her, his breathing shallow. She reached for her locket instinctively, the cool metal grounding her as the room seemed to close in around her.

Harry shifted, reaching for his glass of water as if to steady himself, but before he could lift it, Rose’s voice cut through the uneasy silence, softer now, yet dripping with calculated malice.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she said, leaning forward slightly. Her tone dropped, feigning concern. “Harry, I’ve been meaning to ask about earlier. You know, when you stopped by my room.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, their insinuation choking the room. Amelia’s heart stuttered, her gaze snapping to Harry, whose brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” Harry’s voice was steady, but disbelief laced his tone. “What are you talking about?”

Rose tilted her head, her expression a mask of wounded dignity. “I don’t want to make a scene, of course, but... well, I think it’s only fair to clear the air. I thought we were all friends here.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Callum before settling back on Harry. “It’s just... I felt uncomfortable.”

Harry’s chair scraped back slightly as he straightened, his green eyes wide with shock. “Uncomfortable? I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Rose,” Amelia interjected sharply, her voice trembling with anger. “What exactly are you accusing him of?”

Rose blinked, her feigned surprise almost convincing. “Accusing? Oh no, Amelia, you misunderstand me. I’m not accusing anyone of anything.” She placed a hand delicately on her chest. “I’m just saying, when Harry came to my room earlier, things got a bit... heated. I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, but I thought it best to bring it up.”

Amelia shot to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the polished floor. “That’s a lie,” she said fiercely, her hazel eyes blazing. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. “Harry would never—”

“Amelia.” Callum’s voice was low, cutting through hers with an authority that made her stomach twist. He stood slowly, his tall frame casting a shadow over the table. “Let her finish.”

She stared at him, her breath catching. “You can’t possibly believe this.”

Callum’s expression remained unreadable, his blue eyes stormy but controlled. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said evenly, his voice a tightly wound thread. His gaze shifted to Harry. “Did you go to her room?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry said, standing now as well. His voice trembled, but his green eyes flashed with indignation. “She’s lying!”

Rose gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in mock offense. “How dare you,” she said, her voice quivering with feigned outrage. But there was a glimmer of triumph in her icy blue gaze, a satisfaction that made Amelia’s stomach churn.

“That’s enough!” Callum’s voice cracked like thunder, silencing the room. He turned to Amelia, his expression hardened with resolve. “This isn’t something we can just dismiss.”

Amelia clutched the locket around her neck, her fingers trembling. “Harry is my brother,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “I know him. He would never—he couldn’t...” Her words faltered, but the fire in her eyes didn’t dim. “He’s innocent.”

“And Rose is my sister,” Callum replied, his tone measured but heavy. “And I trust her.”

The words struck Amelia like a physical blow. She stared at him, searching his face for anything—doubt, hesitation, regret—but all she found was cold certainty. Her chest tightened, the weight of her locket pressing against her skin like a stone.

“If you trust her over me,” she said, her voice trembling with the effort to stay steady, “then you’ve already made your choice.”

Callum’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking between her and Rose. He said nothing, the silence deafening. Rose sat back in her chair, a faint, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips.

Harry placed a hand on Amelia’s shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s go.”

Amelia nodded stiffly, her movements mechanical as she stepped away from the table. She didn’t look back, couldn’t bear to see Callum’s expression—or Rose’s triumph. Her throat tightened as she clutched the locket, its engraved words—“Family is forever”—burning into her mind.

As they reached the door, Harry’s voice broke the silence between them. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I never should’ve—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted gently, her voice strained but steady. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We’ll get through this. Together.”

The last thing she heard before the door closed behind them was Rose’s voice, soft and saccharine. “I’m sure everything will work out. It always does.”

The words lingered in Amelia’s mind like a curse, echoing as she and Harry walked out into the heavy night, leaving the Stone Estate—and the life she thought she knew—behind.