Three days later, Amelia was back on her feet physically, at least.
The fever had broken, and her strength returned little by little. But something else had changed, too. A shift that was small but impossible to ignore.
Alexander didn't disappear behind his work the same way he used to. He still left early, but now, he asked if she'd eaten. He lingered at breakfast for a minute longer. He didn't smile not fully but his glances had softened.
It wasn't love.
But it was something.
That morning, Amelia chose a cream silk dress and styled her hair in loose waves. Her reflection in the mirror looked poised, graceful nothing like the invisible bride she'd felt like days before.
"You look lovely, ma'am," the maid offered as she brought in fresh flowers.
"Thank you." Amelia smiled faintly. "Who chose these?"
"They're from the young master," the maid replied.
Amelia blinked. "Alexander?"
The maid nodded.
She approached the vase. White peonies. Her favorite.
How did he know?
Her chest warmed slightly. Until the sound of heels on marble shattered the moment.
Click. Click. Click.
Confident. Familiar.
Amelia turned just as Veronica walked into the room without knocking, her emerald dress hugging her body like it had been stitched on her curves.
"Darling," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I heard you were ill. I came to check on you."
Amelia remained still. "I'm fine now, thank you."
Veronica stepped closer, her gaze drifting to the flowers. "Peonies... Bold choice."
"They're my favorite."
"Oh, really?" She smiled again. "They used to be mine too until Alexander ruined them for me."
Amelia didn't flinch. "Then I suppose it's good they're mine now."
A flicker of something sharp passed through Veronica's eyes.
She laughed lightly. "You're stronger than you look, I'll give you that. But strength doesn't mean you'll last here."
"I'm not here to last. I'm here to live."
Veronica tilted her head. "Sweet. But you should know Stone women don't live. They endure. And eventually, they break."
Amelia took a step forward, closing the space between them. Her voice was calm but firm.
"Then maybe it's time that changed."
Veronica's smile faltered for half a second before she regained her composure.
"Well, I'm staying at the mansion for a few days," she said. "Alexander didn't mention it? Oh how careless of him."
Amelia's heart skipped, but she didn't show it.
"For what reason?"
"Business," she said smoothly. "Some matters with the Stone Foundation. I've always been close to his mother... and his office. I'll be around."
With that, Veronica turned and walked out heels echoing like war drums across the hallway.
Later that evening, Amelia joined Alexander for dinner. It wasn't planned, but something told her to show up. She found him in the dining room, already seated, reading over documents.
When he looked up, something in his expression flickered almost approval.
"You look different," he said.
"I feel different."
She took the seat beside him, instead of across the table like usual. Close enough to smell the subtle cologne he always wore. Clean. Sharp. Masculine.
"Veronica's here," she said bluntly.
Alexander set the file down. "She's assisting with a few foundation matters. Mother invited her."
"Do you always mix personal history with business?"
He met her eyes. "I don't let history interfere with the present."
"And what is the present, Alexander?"
A beat of silence.
"You and I, learning how to exist in the same space without devouring each other."
Amelia raised a brow. "That sounds romantic."
He smirked faintly, then looked down at his wine.
"She likes to provoke. Don't let her get to you."
"She's already trying," Amelia said. "And she's good at it."
Alexander leaned back. "So are you."
Their eyes held. For the first time, the air between them felt electric not cold, not awkward. Charged.
Then the door opened.
"Alexander," a woman's voice purred.
Veronica.
She walked in, dressed in a velvet evening gown that left little to the imagination.
"I thought we were reviewing the charity proposal tonight?" she said, eyeing Amelia as though she were invisible.
Alexander didn't move. "It can wait. I'm having dinner with my wife."
Veronica's lashes fluttered just slightly.
"Of course. Forgive me."
She turned and left without another word.
Amelia stared at her half-finished plate.
"She's not going to stop," she murmured.
"No, she won't," Alexander said. "She doesn't know how to lose."
"And you?"
He looked at her, his gaze steady. "I don't play games I'm not willing to win."
Amelia's pulse quickened.
She didn't respond.
But in that moment, something was
clear: she wasn't just a silent bride anymore.
She was part of the board.
Part of the house.
And perhaps, slowly, part of his world.