Chapter three
3161 Words
AMELIA'S POV
After Damien Sinclair’s grand entrance, the gala gradually settled back into something that almost resembled normal.
Almost.
Because while conversations resumed and champagne continued flowing, the atmosphere had undeniably shifted.
A new energy lingered in the air.Women subtly straightened their posture,some adjusted their dresses,others checked their reflections in champagne glasses or casually smoothed their hair as though fate itself might suddenly place them in his line of sight.
“Tray straight. Chin up. Move.”
The sharp whisper of our event supervisor snapped my full attention back into place.
I immediately adjusted my posture.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her sharp eyes scanned me briefly before she shoved another tray of fresh champagne glasses into my hands.
“VIP section. Table one.”
My stomach tightened instantly.
Even without asking, I understood.
Table one,the most important table in the room.
I swallowed hard.
“Be careful,” she warned coldly.
“Those people could buy your entire existence and still not notice the expense.”
Well,that was… oddly motivating.
With measured steps, I carefully made my way across the ballroom floor, weaving between glittering gowns, tailored suits, and the kind of luxury that still felt slightly suffocating up close.By the time I reached table one, my palms were already damp.
The table itself was nothing short of extravagant.Crystal glasses,gold detailing and flawless floral arrangements.
And seated there?
People whose entire presence screamed influence.
My gaze stayed lowered professionally as I began serving.
One guest.
Then another.
“Champagne, ma’am?”
My voice was soft and controlled.
I reached the elegantly dressed brunette seated near the center of the table.She was stunning in the way expensive things often were, perfectly styled chestnut hair, diamond earrings that probably cost more than my student loans, and a gown so pristine it looked untouched by human inconvenience.
Her eyes flickered over me once,
Then her lip curled slightly.
“Oh.”
Her tone alone carried enough disdain to make my spine stiffen.
“Please try not to stand too close.”
I froze slightly.
“Excuse me?”
She offered a thin, mocking smile.
“You smell…”
Her nose wrinkled delicately.
“Overworked.”
A soft laugh escaped someone beside her.
Heat immediately rushed to my face.
“Victorie,” a male voice beside her murmured in mild warning.
But the woman, apparently Victorie Royce, only lifted one perfectly sculpted brow.
“What?” she said lightly.
“I’m simply encouraging proper hygiene.”
My fingers tightened painfully around the tray and I remained quiet,because girls like me did not survive by reacting to women like her.So I forced a polite expression and continued serving.
“Champagne, ma’am?”
I turned slightly toward the woman seated beside Victorie.
But before I could fully steady the bottle…
“Honestly, where do they even find these servers?” Victorie said loudly enough for the table to hear.
My hand faltered.
Just slightly,but slightly was enough.
The champagne poured too quickly.A sharp golden splash spilled over the crystal and directly onto the elegant silver-blue gown of the high-profile female donor seated before me.
Silence.
Immediate.
Horrifying.
My blood ran cold.
“Oh my God—” I gasped.
The woman shot up from her seat so abruptly her chair nearly toppled backward.
“Are you insane?!” she shrieked.
My entire body locked.
“I am so sorry, ma’am, I—”
The slap came before I could finish.
A sharp c***k split through the air.Her palm collided brutally against my cheek, snapping my head sideways with enough force to make me stumble.
The tray slipped from my hands,glasses shattered instantly against marble floors and gasps erupted around us.
My skin burned
No
Burned wasn’t enough.It felt like my entire face had been set on fire.
My vision blurred, not from physical pain alone but humiliation.Pure,devastating humiliation.
The ballroom had gone unnaturally quiet,every eye was on me.I could feel their judgement,their pity and their curiosity.My throat tightened painfully.
“You incompetent little fool!” the woman hissed.
“Do you have any idea how much this dress costs?”
I couldn’t answer,couldn’t breathe and could barely think.
“That’s enough.”
The calm male voice was low. But powerful enough to cut through the tension instantly.
Ethan Vale.
He stood now, his expression sharp as he looked toward Victorie.
“She made a mistake.”
Victorie crossed her arms.
“A mistake?” she scoffed.
“She ruined Clarissa’s gown.”
“And publicly assaulting staff solves that?” Ethan replied coolly.
Victorie’s jaw tightened, though she clearly disliked being corrected.
“Amelia!”
My supervisor’s furious voice broke through everything.
Her heels clicked sharply across the marble as she stormed toward me, her expression absolutely livid.
“Apologize. Now.”
My cheek throbbed violently.
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I swallowed them down with everything I had left.I lowered my head immediately.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I whispered shakily.
“It was an accident.
Victorie looked smug.
And I had never wanted to disappear more in my life.
“Unbelievable,” my supervisor muttered through clenched teeth before grabbing my arm harshly enough to sting.
“You’re coming with me.”
She practically dragged me away from table one, away from the shattered glass, away from the suffocating humiliation and burning stares.
Only once we were safely beyond the ballroom doors did she finally release me.
“What is wrong with you?” she snapped viciously.
I flinched.
“I’m sorry…”
“Sorry?” she hissed.
“Sorry doesn’t fix donor relations. Sorry doesn’t fix the damage you just caused!”
My breathing trembled.
“I was nervous…”
“Then you should have learned to control it.”
Her voice was ice.
“Do you understand how lucky you are that you weren’t fired on the spot?”
By now, tears were already slipping down my face despite my desperate attempts to hold them back.
“Yes, ma’am…”
She exhaled sharply, clearly disgusted.
“VIP upstairs bathrooms. Immediately.”
I blinked through tears.
“What?”
“Clean them.”
Her tone left no room for argument.
“Since serving people without embarrassing us is apparently beyond your skill set, perhaps scrubbing toilets is more appropriate.”
The words hit harder than the slap.
Because this?This was degradation,and she knew it.
I nodded slowly, too emotionally shattered to argue.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fix your face first,” she said sharply.
“You look pathetic.”
And somehow,that was the part that nearly broke me.
******************************************
Back downstairs, the gala continued with flawless elegance.
A sharply dressed master of ceremonies stepped forward with practiced confidence, his polished smile radiating the kind of charisma expected at events designed for the powerful.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began smoothly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall.
“On behalf of Sinclair Group, welcome to The Stephanie Sinclair Legacy Gala: A Night for Safer Roads.”
The audience responded with respectful applause.
At the front table, Damien Sinclair remained seated, his posture composed, expression unreadable.
Yet beside him, Ethan Vale’s gaze flickered briefly in his direction.
Because while the room saw calm…Ethan knew better.
The MC continued.
“Tonight is more than a charity event.”
“It is a mission.”
“A mission dedicated to funding road safety initiatives, supporting anti-drunk-driving campaigns, and providing educational scholarships to students under the age of twenty-one.”
Another round of applause followed.
“All in loving memory of Stephanie Sinclair…”
The room softened instantly.
“…whose tragic passing in a drunk-driving accident became the catalyst for a legacy determined to save countless others.”
A respectful hush fell over the ballroom.Some guests lowered their heads solemnly.
Others offered sympathetic glances toward the Sinclair family table.
But Damien?
He didn’t move,Not visibly though.
Only Ethan noticed the near imperceptible tension that suddenly locked through his closest friend’s body.
The slight tightening of his jaw.
The rigid stillness in his shoulders.
The way his fingers curled just once against the armrest before going still again.
Ethan’s stomach sank slightly because he knew.
Stephanie Sinclair wasn’t just Damien’s late sister,she had been his weakness.
And her death?
The wound Damien never truly let anyone touch.
“To honor her memory,” the MC announced warmly, “we invite you all to watch a special tribute celebrating Stephanie’s life, her joy, and the beautiful legacy she left behind.”
Ethan immediately turned toward Damien.
And for the first time that night…
Damien’s composure cracked.
His brows furrowed sharply.
Confusion,then something darker settled in his face.
“What?” he muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only Ethan to hear.
Ethan’s face paled slightly.
“Damien…”
“I wasn’t informed about this.”
His tone was still controlled.
But Ethan recognized the danger in that control.
“Your parents arranged it,” Ethan whispered carefully.
“They told me not to mention it because they knew you’d shut it down.”
For a moment, Damien said absolutely nothing.
The ballroom darkened further.
And then,the projector flickered to life,a massive screen illuminated the room.
A baby picture appeared first.
Stephanie Sinclair.
Laughing,bright-eyed and alive.
A sharp soundless inhale caught in Damien’s throat.
Photo after photo followed.
Stephanie as a child,Stephanie at birthdays,Stephanie smiling beside him, Stephanie growing older.
Memories he had spent years avoiding.
Years suppressing.
Years refusing to relive.
And now?
They were everywhere.
Projected before strangers.
His breathing shifted.
Ethan noticed immediately.
“Damien…” Ethan whispered carefully.
But Damien’s eyes remained locked on the screen, though his expression had gone dangerously distant.His chest tightened painfully and his pulse spiked.
It all began collapsing inward.
Stephanie’s face blurred.
The sound of screeching tires echoed where logic should have been.
Broken glass,
Blood,
A crash he had never truly escaped.
His fingers clenched hard against the chair.
No
Not here
Not now.
“Damien,” Ethan said more firmly, leaning closer.
“You need to leave.”
“I’m fine,” Damien said tightly.
He wasn’t.
“I’m coming with you,” Ethan insisted quietly.
“No."
Damien’s voice was sharper this time.
“Stay here.”
Damien didn’t wait for another response.
He turned immediately, long strides carrying him away from the VIP table with the same composed authority he wore like armor.
To anyone watching, he likely appeared calm,collected and untouchable.
But beneath the surface?
Everything was unraveling.
His pulse thundered violently against his ribs. Each breath grew shorter than the last, as though invisible hands had begun tightening mercilessly around his chest.
The tribute video continued playing behind him.It followed him,every sound piercing deeper than it should.
By the time he reached the ballroom doors, his hands were already beginning to tremble.
“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath.
His jaw locked painfully.
He pushed through the doors harder than intended, stepping into the quieter upstairs corridor.
His breathing turned ragged,his vision blurred slightly at the edges as dizziness began creeping in.
His fingers moved instinctively to his tie, yanking it loose with trembling urgency.
Still not enough air.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, his usually immaculate composure visibly fracturing as panic clawed viciously at his throat.
“Breathe.”
But the command felt useless because he couldn't.
His chest constricted harder.
His heart slammed like it was trying to escape him entirely. Every step became harder to control.
He needed privacy… he needed space… he needed this to end before anyone saw.
His dark eyes scanned frantically until he spotted the VIP restroom at the end of the corridor.
He stumbled toward it, one hand briefly catching the wall for support as another violent wave of dizziness nearly knocked his balance.
Memories crashed through him in brutal flashes.
“No…"
His voice came out broken and barely audible.
His hand slammed against the restroom door, shoving it open with more force than intended.
******************************************
The violent sound of the restroom door slamming open nearly made Amelia jump out of her skin.
She gasped sharply, instinctively spinning around so fast that the cleaning cloth in her hand slipped straight into the sink.
“Oh my—”
Her heart pounded wildly as she stared toward the entrance, her body immediately tense.
For one brief, irrational second, she genuinely thought someone dangerous had burst in.
But the moment her wide eyes landed on him…
Her fear shifted instantly.
Damien Sinclair.
Only now…
He looked nothing like the powerful, untouchable man from downstairs.
His suit jacket was gone.
His tie had been loosened violently.
His usually perfect composure was shattered beyond recognition.
One hand gripped the marble sink so tightly his knuckles had gone pale, while his other hand pressed desperately against his chest as though physically trying to force himself to breathe.
His breaths were sharp and his entire body…was trembling.
Amelia froze for only half a second before recognition hit her.
Panic attack.
She knew that look.That terrifying, helpless fight for air.
Her father had suffered from them after his stroke.
Without thinking twice, Amelia dropped everything and rushed toward him.
“Hey…hey, it’s okay."
Her voice was soft, urgent, but grounding.
Damien’s dark eyes snapped toward her instantly, wild with panic and disorientation.
For a moment, he almost looked ready to push her away.
But Amelia ignored the intimidation entirely.
“Listen to me,” she said gently, stepping closer but keeping her movements calm.
“You’re okay.”
He clearly didn’t believe her.
His breathing remained erratic.
“I—I can’t…”
His voice cracked violently.
Amelia’s chest tightened slightly at the sound.
“Yes, you can,” she said firmly.
“Look at me.”
His breathing stuttered.
“Look at me.”
This time, her tone carried more command.
And somehow…,he did.
Those dark, overwhelmed eyes locked onto hers.
“Good,” she whispered.
“Now breathe with me.”
She inhaled slowly, exaggerated enough for him to follow.
“In…”
His chest shook.
“Out…”
It took a few failed attempts,a few broken breaths, and few terrifying seconds where Amelia worried he might spiral further.But she stayed steady and patient.
“Again.”
“In…”
“Out…”
Gradually,his breathing began to follow hers.Not perfectly,but it was enough.His trembling lessened and his death grip on the sink weakened.
“Good,” Amelia encouraged softly.
“You’re doing good.”
“Tell me five things you can see.”
Damien blinked hard, still visibly shaken.
“…What?”
“Five things,” she repeated calmly.
“Anything. Just focus.”
He swallowed hard.
“The sink.”
His voice was rough.
“The mirror.”
“Your shirt.”
Amelia nodded gently.
“Good.”
“The lights.”
He exhaled shakily.
“…And you.”
Something about that final answer made Amelia’s breath catch slightly but she quickly pushed past it.
“Perfect.”
His knees finally seemed to give out beneath him once the worst passed, and before pride could stop him, Damien slowly sank down against the restroom wall, breathing heavily but no longer drowning.
Amelia immediately crouched beside him.
“Easy,” she murmured.
For the first time since entering,Damien truly looked at her.She was beautiful,soft brown eyes filled with concern,slightly smudged makeup and a faint redness on her cheek he hadn’t yet fully processed.
And kindness.Raw, genuine kindness.
“What…”
His voice was still unsteady.
“…is your name?”
Amelia blinked, slightly caught off guard by how human he suddenly sounded.
“Amelia.”
Her voice softened.
“Amelia Monroe.”
Damien repeated it quietly, almost like committing it to memory.
“Amelia…”
Then after a pause…
“Thank you.”
Simple words.But spoken with such genuine sincerity that Amelia unexpectedly felt her chest tighten.
She offered him a small, awkward smile.
“You’re welcome.”
Damien remained seated for another moment before finally reaching into his pocket with slightly steadier hands.
He pulled out a sleek black business card.He held it out toward her.
“If you ever need anything…”
His voice was calmer now.
“…Call me.”
Amelia stared at the card in mild confusion before carefully accepting it.Her eyes flickered downward.
Damien Sinclair.
CEO, Sinclair Group.
Nina was absolutely going to lose her mind.
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