My gaze finally lands on Amelia as she approaches the dais with Daniel, her expression strained but composed, like a porcelain doll about to crack.
Mr. Stanley continues, “Additionally, the Bancroft family will also donate a substantial amount to the charity. We are immensely grateful for their support.”
More polite applause fills the room as Daniel and Amelia rise to join them, the sound grating on my nerves. To anyone paying close attention, it’s clear that Daniel is half-dragging Amelia along, his fingers digging into her arm.
Motherfucker.
Oliver leans closer. “What is this about?”
Misha murmurs back, “I hope it’s not what I think it is…”
Anxiety radiates off Amelia in waves—the tension in her posture, the way her eyes dart around the room like a trapped animal searching for escape.
Looking for us?
She’s uncomfortable. That much is painfully clear.
Mr. Stanley places a hand on her shoulder in a possessive and controlling gesture that only heightens my irritation. Daniel stands beside her, his smirk as smug as ever. August appears resigned, his eyes betraying a sadness that doesn’t match the celebration.
I catch Misha’s eye, and we share a look of understanding. Something is off, terribly off, and we need to be ready for whatever comes next.
Amelia’s father lets go of her and raises his glass again, signaling for more attention. “Tonight, we also celebrate the unity of the Stanley and Bancroft families.”
My blood runs cold.
Daniel pulls Amelia close by her waist. She looks up at him with a frown, trying to step out of his hold without much fuss, but he doesn’t let her go. His grip remains firm, and the fabric of her dress bunches up where he holds her too tightly.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
Clenching my teeth so hard I fear they might crack, my hands ball into fists at my sides. Beside me, Oliver mutters dangerously, “I should have pummeled his head in. Doesn’t he get that she doesn’t want him?”
“He’s fact-resistant, it seems,” I mutter, the sarcasm barely masking my fury.
“What do we do?” Misha asks.
Amelia’s father speaks once more, his voice brimming with pride. “It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement of Daniel Percival Bancroft and my daughter, Amelia Charlotte Stanley. The union will further solidify the bond between ourfamilies. The Bancrofts have been esteemed family friends for generations, and now we can officially call them family.”
Holy shit, they actually did that.
Amelia is frozen, her eyes grow wide, the color drains from her cheeks, and her breath comes in shallow, panicked gasps.
“She didn’t agree to this, did she?” Oliver’s voice is laced with worry.
No way.
Misha shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “Of course not. You heard her earlier. She promised.”
Come on, baby, tell them.
Tell them to fuck off.
Amelia’s father drones on about the upcoming wedding, but it’s just background noise to the turmoil brewing inside me. My focus is fixed on Amelia, who starts shaking her head and mouthing,No, no, no.
Fuck this shit.
“That’s it. I’m going to get her,” I announce, standing abruptly. My chair screeches against the floor, the sound cutting through the murmur of the crowd. I weave through the tables, my steps heavy and resolute. Misha and Oliver copy me, their footsteps echoing mine, while every pair of eyes follows us as we march toward Amelia, gasps and whispers rippling through the room.
When Amelia sees us, her eyes fill with tears of relief. She takes a step forward, reaching out to us, but Daniel grabs her wrist, holding her back. She turns, tugging at her wrist, but he hisses something to her just as I reach the dais.
