CHAPTER 4
“Rise and shine, little sis,” Viviana’s cheerful voice echoed through Amelia’s bedroom door. “We’ve got a full day planned—spa, shopping, and a late lunch at Café Etoile. You’ll love it.”
Amelia sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Morning sunlight bathed the room in gold, glinting off the delicate chandelier and her now half-full wardrobe. It had been just a day since she arrived, yet she still felt like a guest in someone else’s life.
Viviana was already dressed when Amelia met her downstairs. She wore a soft blush linen dress, matching sandals, and oversized sunglasses that screamed effortless luxury. She gave Amelia an approving look. “Cute! You clean up well. That Valentino dress suits you.”
Amelia smiled awkwardly, unsure if it was a compliment or another one of Viviana’s polished digs. She had chosen a modest floral dress and ballet flats—expensive, sure, but the simplest outfit she could find in her closet. Anything more would have felt like playing pretend.
They were chauffeured to “Heaven Touch,” an exclusive spa tucked away in a quiet part of town. The walls were covered in lush ivy, and the scent of lavender greeted them at the door. Inside, everything was white, gold, and whisper-soft.
“Welcome, Miss Cole,” the receptionist said, standing up with a gracious bow. Her eyes briefly flicked to Amelia, then back to Viviana. “We have your private suite prepared.”
As they were led to the spa lounge, Viviana placed a hand on the receptionist’s arm, leaning in slightly. “By the way,” she whispered with a careful smile, “My father insisted I bring along my...sister. She’s new to the city. Not quite used to how we do things yet. You know how it is.”
The receptionist raised a perfectly arched brow, eyes trailing over Amelia’s simple outfit. “Of course,” she said, lips tightening into something polite and dismissive.
As they undressed and slipped into robes, Amelia felt the weight of watching eyes — from the attendants who spoke to her curtly, to the masseuse who pressed her back with the grace of a construction worker. No one explained the services to her like they did to Viviana. No complimentary drinks were offered. Her robe was thinner, her towel smaller. At one point, her hot stone massage felt like punishment, and when she asked a question, the therapist simply replied, “Please relax, ma’am,” with barely concealed irritation.
Amelia glanced at Viviana across the room, who was lounging in her chair like a queen, sipping cucumber water and giggling with her attendant. Once, she caught Amelia’s eye and offered a sympathetic smile. “You doing okay, babe?”
Amelia gave a small nod, swallowing her discomfort. Maybe I’m overthinking it.
In the changing room, she overheard two employees whispering behind the counter.
“That’s the girl Vincent brought in, right?”
“Mmhmm. Heard she’s his countryside mistress or something. He’s letting her stay for a while. Gold-digger vibes.”
“Can’t blame her. If I got a rich old man like that, I’d fake it too.”
Their laughter felt like a slap. Amelia clutched her towel tighter around herself and turned away.
When they stepped back into the car, Viviana stretched. “Wasn’t that heavenly?” she said, then glanced at Amelia with a concerned tilt of her head. “You looked a little tense back there. I hope they didn’t mistreat you?”
Amelia blinked. “It was…fine.”
Viviana smiled, satisfied. “Good. Because next stop—Star Mall, again! This time with a proper style consultant. We’re going full makeover.”
Star Mall gleamed brighter than Amelia remembered. Perhaps it was the weight of her last visit that made the lights feel harsher, the glass too clear, the people too polished. They walked past luxury shops and tech displays until they entered Élégance Couture, a boutique Viviana claimed had “the best heels on the planet.”
This time, employees didn’t laugh or whisper. They fawned. Viviana was known here — greeted with sparkling water, quick hands offering samples, and murmurs of admiration. Amelia followed closely, staying quiet, a ghost among silk and suede.
At one point, Viviana disappeared around a corner, saying, “Try on the red pumps I picked out — I’ll be back in a sec.”
Amelia sat on a velvet stool, holding the shoes. They were stunning but far too tall for her. Just as she was about to put them down, a loud, stern voice rang out.
“Excuse me, miss. Can you open your bag?”
She turned, startled, to find two security guards standing over her. One pointed at her designer handbag — the one Viviana had handed her to carry earlier.
“I—I don’t understand—”
“We have reason to believe an item from this store has been taken without payment,” the taller guard said, arms crossed.
Amelia blinked, panic setting in. “But I haven’t even bought anything—”
“Open the bag, miss.”
With trembling hands, Amelia slowly unzipped it. Nestled beside the makeup pouch was a velvet ring box.
The guard flipped it open. Inside was a diamond ring — massive, glittering, and unmistakably not hers.
“I swear I didn’t—” Her voice cracked. A hot flush of shame surged through her.
A small crowd had started to gather. Among them was a sharply dressed man in a navy suit — tall, self-assured, and clearly someone of status. Beside him was a stylish young woman who gasped and rushed forward.
“Viviana!” the woman beamed, sweeping in to give her a tight hug just as Viviana reappeared from around the corner.
“Sasha, darling!” Viviana said, hugging her back with perfect poise. “How are you?”
The man beside Sasha stepped closer, folding his arms. “What’s happening?” he asked the guard coolly.
“She was found with this ring in her bag,” the manager replied, motioning toward Amelia, who stood pale and frozen.
Viviana’s gaze flicked to the scene — the ring, the guards, the attention. She blinked slowly, lips parting just a little, and then looked at Amelia with measured concern. “What?” she said softly, stepping forward. “Amelia…?”
Amelia shook her head. “I didn’t take anything! I swear! I don’t even know how it got in there!”
Sasha’s brother tilted his head. “Is this the new sister you mentioned, Viv?” His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable undertone of doubt.
Viviana turned toward him with an apologetic smile. “Yes, Adrian. This is my sister, Amelia. She’s still adjusting to the city.” Her gaze drifted back to Amelia, and although her face was sympathetic, something glinted in her eyes — satisfaction, well-hidden.
“She’s not used to how things work here,” she added smoothly, “But I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.”
Adrian Reyes narrowed his eyes slightly. “A misunderstanding that involves a stolen diamond ring?”
Sasha leaned closer to him. “Viviana said her father just found her. Maybe she’s just overwhelmed?”
“Maybe,” Adrian said quietly, though his tone suggested otherwise. His gaze lingered on Amelia for a long moment — not cruel, but sharp with judgment.
“I’ll ask you one more time,” said the head security guard. “Did you put the ring in your bag?”
“No!” Amelia snapped, her voice cracking. “I didn’t even touch it!”
Viviana stepped in suddenly, placing a firm hand on the guard’s arm and casting a glance at the store manager. “Please check the security footage. I’d stake my reputation on her innocence. And I don’t say that lightly.”
The manager, already sweating under the weight of the scene, nodded and rushed off to comply. The guards stepped back, though still eyeing Amelia warily.
Viviana stood beside her sister now, looping her arm protectively around Amelia’s shoulder. “You okay?” she asked sweetly, brushing a lock of hair behind Amelia’s ear like a doting sibling.
Amelia nodded faintly, still visibly shaken. “I don’t know what happened.”
Twenty agonizing minutes later, the manager returned, red-faced and breathless.
“It seems… the ring was placed on the counter by mistake during a handoff. Miss Cole’s assistant accidentally tucked it in the bag with the others. No theft occurred.”
The guards nodded and stepped aside. “Apologies for the misunderstanding, miss.”
Viviana exhaled with a laugh that managed to sound both relieved and rehearsed. “Thank goodness. Honestly, these kinds of mix-ups are more common than you think.” She squeezed Amelia gently. “I’m just glad we cleared it up before it got worse.”
The crowd dispersed, but Adrian lingered a moment longer. His eyes scanned Amelia again, now not with hostility, but with analytical detachment.
“Glad everything’s sorted,” he said, mostly to Viviana. Then to Amelia, he added, “But you should be more careful. In places like this, appearances matter.”
Viviana’s expression faltered just for a second — almost imperceptibly — then brightened again. “Adrian, don’t be so serious,” she said lightly. “We all make mistakes, right?”
Adrian gave a noncommittal shrug. “Some more than others.” He and Sasha turned and walked away, Sasha offering one last sympathetic smile over her shoulder.
In the car on the way home, Amelia sat rigid, her hands gripping the very handbag that had just nearly destroyed her dignity.
Viviana leaned back in her seat, humming to herself before glancing at Amelia.
Well, that was dramatic,” she said with a chuckle. Then she reached over and gently squeezed Amelia’s hand. “Don’t worry. These city people? Always so suspicious. You did well not to lose it. I’m proud of you.”
Amelia gave her a faint smile, confused, ashamed, and grateful all at once.
But Viviana only looked out the window, the corner of her lips tilting slightly — satisfied.