Chapter 25
Birthday Bash
Fenella
“I’m just doing my job as your assistant and personal driver till we get back to New York. You can call John if you’d rather have him,” Jessy says.
“Yeah, yeah. As if he’s here.” Alan sighs and rolls his eyes. “Come on, dear, let’s go inside.”
He steps out of the car and circles around to open my door. I squeeze Jessy’s arm. “Has Laird contacted you?”
“He’s parked in front of the house,” Jessy says.
“Good.”
Before I can breathe out in relief, Alan opens the door on my side. I get out with a polite smile. He lifts his arm for me to hold, and we head toward the main entrance, Jessy trailing behind.
The moment we step inside, white marble floors stretch beneath our feet. Crystal chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling, their light spilling over the grand staircase. Everything glitters, too perfect to be real.
Alan leads us deeper into the house, turning left down a hallway that opens into a wide garden.
Pink and white flowers wrap around the decorations, tables dressed in white cloths, chairs tied with pastel ribbons.
It looks like a wedding reception straight out of a reality TV show.
Except this isn’t a wedding. It’s Amy’s twenty-sixth birthday party.
“There she is. That’s Amy,” Alan says, pointing.
My stomach tightens. My eyes widen as I spot her from behind. The sound around me fades for a second. Amy Schmidt—no, Amy Morgan—after seven years.
My breath catches. The last time I saw her was prom night. I thought I’d never have to deal with her again. Yet here she is, turning toward me with that same too-bright smile that once haunted my dreams.
She sees me.
My body trembles before I can stop it. My heart stutters as she walks closer, every step pulling me back to the past.
Her hair’s copper now, shoulder-length, styled in glossy, dramatic waves. She wears a tight long-sleeved white gown, plunging neckline, sheer fabric down to her stomach. Heavy makeup, crimson lips, always over the top, always perfect.
For a moment, I’m seventeen again, hearing her insults in the infirmary, watching her smirk while she made my life hell. I don’t want to let her crawl back into my head, but my chest still aches when those eyes narrow with that same mocking look.
And now she’s doing it again. Standing right in front of me, eyes squinted, sizing me up. She’s not taller than me, but somehow, she still manages to look down on me.
Alan’s hand tightens around mine, pulling me back. I glance at him. He gives me a reassuring nod and a calm smile.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s here,” Amy says. Her tone’s low, smooth, sharp enough to cut glass. “What a surprise.”
“Hey, Amy. You know her, don’t you?” Alan smiles easily.
“I might,” she says with mock curiosity. “Is she Fenella Baxter?” Her eyes drag over me like she’s checking for flaws.
“Yes, she is,” Alan says. He straightens up, chin slightly raised, a proud glint in his eyes. Watching him stand tall in front of her gives me a spark of courage. I lift my chin too, meeting Amy’s stare head-on.
“Hello, Amy. Guess I’m cursed to see you again,” I say, the sarcasm slipping out before I can stop it.
“Everyone makes the same stupid mistake twice.” Amy smirks, taking a slow sip of her champagne. “So, how do you like my well-trained pet?”
“Amy, we agreed to play nice today,” Alan grunts.
“Sorry. Must be in my blood to piss off my prey.” She laughs lightly. “Especially when they try so hard to steal my spotlight.”
She keeps her gaze locked on me, full of contempt. Aha—there it is. She’s still the same insecure diva. It kills her that someone else might look better. Especially me, on Alan’s arm, catching everyone’s attention the way she used to.
Alan insisted I come. He said it’d be good for publicity, but I know better. Nothing about this is good.
“No one’s stealing your spotlight, Amy. We just came to wish you a happy birthday as old friends,” I say, smiling tightly.
“Right. This is your present.” Alan takes out a little box from his pocket and hands it to Amy.
Amy glances at the box, sighs, then looks away for a moment before taking it. “Oh, you didn’t have to. I wasn’t expecting anything from you anyway. Just behave for me, that’s all I ask.”
“Who’s that?” a man’s voice interrupts. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
A man joins her, older but still sharply built, suit tailored to perfection. His dark hair’s flecked with gray, giving him that polished senator charm. I recognize him instantly from the billboards on the way here. Politics and dirty money, Amy’s new playground.
“Let me introduce you,” Alan says smoothly. “Peter, this is my fiancée, Fenella. Fenella, this is Peter.”
“Ah, what a gorgeous lady.” Peter reaches out his hand.
I return the handshake with a polite smile that could fool any man. “Thank you, sir. It’s an honor to meet my favorite senator.”
He chuckles, still holding my hand. “You’ve got fine taste, Alan. She’ll raise the family gene pool.”
Alan smirks. “She’s the whole reason I built my business.”
Peter’s eyes widen when Alan says it. “What?” He points at me, mouth slightly agape. “So, she’s the one you kept talking about?”
“Precisely.” Alan nods, proud smile in place.
“Ah, now I see why you built your empire all these years. She’s worth it.” Peter chuckles, and heat rises in my cheeks from the praise.
His charm is dangerous, a baritone, a gleam, a firm handshake. He could make any woman melt. Too bad his morals are rotten.
“Darling, you promised me a business empire last year. So far I’ve had pocket money. Am I worth less than her?” Amy’s hand fidgets at Peter’s chest as she presses close. Her voice goes high and whiny; I want to scrape it off my skin.
Amy never changes. She pouts when anyone else gets a spotlight. I clamp down on a scoff and stay polite.
I’m not sure whether to be proud, but she clearly feels challenged by me. Seven years of grinding have paid off. I can almost taste her jealousy, and damn, it feels good for once.
“Amy, I told you I’d give you everything if you gave me a son,” Peter says, trying to sound patient.
“Why do you keep asking for that like we’re living in the dark ages?” Amy pouts and claws at his suit collar.
“And you always make me feel old.” Peter’s voice hardens. His gaze cuts, and Amy withdraws her hand.
“Congratulations on your engagement, Alan. I’ll wait for the invite to your wedding.” Peter pats Alan’s shoulder and winks at me before drifting away. He melts back into the crowd like a polished actor, warm and practiced.
His retreating back triggers a prickling mix of disgust and relief. Laughter blooms around other tables while our trio stands in a small, sour bubble.
“I’ll gouge your eyes out if you keep looking at him,” Amy hisses. She grinds her teeth. Charming.
“Easy, Amy. She hasn’t done anything,” Alan says with a warning glare.
“Fuck off, Alan. Can’t you see how she looks at him? Are you blind?” Amy’s face contorts in hatred.
“She’s with me now. Stop crushing my dream. Nothing’s happened.” Alan sounds patient, firm.
“For now.” Amy rolls her eyes. “Don’t let a harlot fool you.”
“Cut it out. Maybe focus on baby-making. Or should I replace you?” I force a smile that tastes like steel. I won’t pretend she can bruise me anymore.
Amy squeezes her champagne glass. My stomach drops. Don’t you dare pour that on me.
“Listen carefully, you bitch.” Amy leans in, glare sharpened. Alan blocks her path. With that tall body between us, Amy looks up at Alan and steps back. She glares at me, pointing a finger. “One wrong move and I’ll ruin you. I’ll destroy you.”
I set my jaw and meet her glare. I refuse to be small. Not today.
“Have you ever thought about how you spent high school poking at what wasn’t yours? How does it feel to taste your own poison now?” I say.
“Ha. You mean Laird?” Amy smiles like she’s tasting amusement. “That’s ancient history. I didn’t expect you to cling to that.”
“I know about you and Alan’s little conspiracy back then.” My voice is steady. I’m done shivering. “You’d better apologize for all you did to me if you don’t want me to take what matters to you. And by the way, Peter was the one flirting, not me.” I plant a hand on my hip and let a smirk creep up.
Amy’s eyes go wide. She shoots a venomous look at Alan. “I only want what’s best for him,” she snaps, thinly polite.
“Don’t blame him. You’re the one responsible for what happened to me.” My chest tightens. “Apologize.” My voice tightens. I wait.
She scoffs, shrugs, then sneers. “Sorry.”
The word is paper-thin. My mouth snaps shut. I clamp my lips together to stop myself from launching at her.
I had hoped time would soften her. I thought I might pity her and compromise my morals to conspire with Golden. It hasn’t. If anything, it only hardens my resolve. This mission is everything.
I will see her arrested.
“Done. Now, fuck off.” Amy spits the last curse and turns away.
“Amy. She’s going to be your sister-in-law. Show her some respect,” Alan says in a cold voice, his glare sharp with anger. His words stop her in her tracks.
Amy tilts her head, then slowly turns to face him again. Her thumb brushes his cheek, her gaze tracing every detail of his face.
“You’re the one who should show me respect. Don’t you remember who brought you to success? Me.”
She pats his cheek afterward, light enough to pass as playful, but it’s clear she would’ve slapped him if it weren’t her own birthday party. Then she walks to the table and starts talking with a man whose face looks oddly familiar.
“Is that Chris?” I ask Alan quietly.
“Yes.” His voice is tight. The anger still burns in him. His jaw stays clenched, his expression grim.
“Wow. Some things never change.” I snort as Amy and Chris sitting side by side.
“Why? You planning to use him for your revenge too?”
Alan gives me a piercing look. I know that look. Laird used to look at me the same way every time I mentioned Alan—jealous, possessive, unreadable.
I need to be careful now. Without realizing it, I’ve been threatening to steal Peter from Amy when I should be focusing on keeping my engagement with Alan solid. I’ve been too caught up in my own little moment of revenge.
“Is Chris still available as a powerful weapon against Amy?” I smirk.
“Fenella. Don’t be ridiculous,” Alan growls.
“Sorry, Alan. She just gets under my skin. I won’t do anything. Promise.” I fix his jacket collar and pat his chest lightly.
“Don’t play with my heart. Laird’s already a big enough problem for me.”
“Yes, Alan. Of course.”