Chapter 3 - The Breaking Point
The silence in the pantry felt like a physical weight.
Amelia didn't scream. She didn't drop her purse. For three agonizing seconds, she simply watched the man she had loved, trusted, and built an empire with, casually erasing her dignity for the amusement of a girl half his age.
Olivia reached out, gripping Amelia’s arm, whispering a terrified plea, "Madam, let's go back outside. Let me handle them."
"No," Amelia whispered. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.
She stepped out from the shadows of the pantry.
She didn't rush. She walked with the slow, measured grace of a queen descending a staircase, her gray maid's uniform smoothing neatly against her hips. She picked up the silver tray from the sideboard, placing a clean crystal glass upon it as if she were fulfilling her station.
Gabriel didn't look up immediately. He assumed it was Olivia coming back with more ice.
"Leave it on the table, Olivia, and shut the door on your way out," Gabriel ordered dismissively, not bothering to lift his head from Bella’s shoulder.
Amelia stopped right beside the coffee table. She didn't put the tray down. Instead, she tilted it slightly, letting the crystal glass slide off and shatter loudly against the hardwood floor.
Bella shrieked, jumping backward off Gabriel's lap.
Gabriel snapped his head up, his face contorting into an instant flash of fury. "What the hell do you think you're—"
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He stopped dead.
The color drained entirely from Gabriel's face. The suave, untouchable billionaire looked as though he had just been struck by lightning. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
