I Love My Ex-Fiance's Uncle

Chapter 5

Amelia's pov

The great hall of the mansion of the Carters buzzed with laughter, the soft clinking of crystal glass against crystal, while guests spoke around in the gold chandelier-lit hall, their voices weaving into a symphony of empty compliments and ulterior motives. It was supposed to be a night honoring my grandfather, who had always been my anchor in the storm that was this family.

But I knew something was off. I could feel that burn in my back from Eleanor's stare as I made my way across the room, her presence a dark shadow over every movement, no matter how infinitesimally small. Isabella was standing right beside her, whispering conspiratorially with Ethan. The three of them seemed to be predators, searching out their prey. That prey was me.

The air was taut as a wire with night well advanced, and it was only a question of when Eleanor would strike.

It had happened just after Grandfather was wheeled upstairs to rest, the guests still hanging about, and the warmth of the evening giving way to sharp-edged whispers. Eleanor chose her moment with precision, stepping into the center of the room with loud deliberation in her voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she called, her smile as cold as her intentions. "Before we close this perfect evening, there's something that needs to be brought up. Something that involves this family."

The room hushed, all eyes focused on her. My heart fell.

"Amelia," Eleanor said, her tone deliriously sugary, "why don't you join us?

Yelping, I stood frozen, the weight of her words pinning me in place. I slowly took another step forward. The crowd parted as I moved.

"What is this about?" I asked, my voice steady while my chest began to quiver.

Eleanor's smile spread wider. "It's my responsibility. You have lived your whole life on the privileges of this family's name and never gave anything back. And now, you show up and claim an inheritance that you don't even have a right to get."

The room was silent.

"That is not true," I replied, my voice rising. "Everything I've done, I've done for this family, Grandfather."

Eleanor snorted. "Grandfather, this family. You've used them as shields for your selfishness. You don't belong here, Amelia."

"That's enough," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "You've manipulated everyone in this family, including Grandfather. You don't get to stand here and pretend you're the victim."

Eleanor's smile cracked, her eyes narrowing to dangerous levels. Beside her, Isabella smirked, feeding off the chaos.

"You ungrateful little—" Eleanor started, stepping closer to me. Her hand came up, poised to slap me, but someone snatched her wrist out of the air.

"Touch her, and you'll regret it."

The voice was low, cutting as a blade, and stilled the room in one second flat.

I turned, my heart lurching in my chest. The man who'd captured her wasn't just anyone.

It was him.

The man of that night.

Still, the stranger I'd met at the bar, with whom I'd wasted a torrid, reckless night only to leave before dawn.

And now he stood here in the middle of my family's chaos, holding Eleanor's wrist with an air of command that made a chilly wave run down my spine.

"Your? I whispered the word barely audible.

His blue eyes pierced into me, and something unreadable flashed across his features. But he didn't utter a single word to me. Instead, he let go of Eleanor's wrist, stepping forward and appropriating the room's attention instantly. "Who in the hell do you think you are?" Eleanor snapped, rubbing her wrist.

He smiled, but a cold one; his razor-sharp eyes slit into her like a blade. "The name's Alexander Blackwood. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Murmurs erupted in the room.

"Alexander Blackwood?" someone whispered.

"Isn't he the black sheep in the Carter family?"

"Ethan's uncle, right? The bastard one?"

I stared hard at him, placing him, my mind racing. Alexander Blackwood. Ethan's uncle. My ex-fiancé's uncle.

The man I'd slept with.

The room tipped just a little, and I grasped the edge of a table near me to steady myself.

"Why are you here?" Eleanor demanded, her voice shrill with fear cloaked in anger.

"I'm here," Alexander said, his voice low and even but deadly, "because I won't stand by and watch you ruin this family any longer.

Eleanor's face contorted with anger. "This is none of your business. You're nothing but an outsider bastard. You have no right to interfere."

Alexander didn't even break his smirk. "Oh, I have every reason to. Because, unlike you, I do care what happens with this family. And I'm not going to let you destroy it just to satisfy your greed.".

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond, but he cut her off.

"And let me make one thing clear," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "If you ever lay a hand on Amelia again, you'll regret it."

The weight of his words settled over the room like a thundercloud.

I couldn't breathe. My head reeled with memories of that night in the bar, the way he had looked at me, the way he had touched me-and now who he was punched me squarely in the gut.

But Eleanor wasn't done. She straightened, her composure snapping into place like a weapon. "You think you can come in here and protect her? You don't know what she's done or what she's capable of."

Alexander's face darkened. "What she's capable of is far more admirable than anything you've ever done." Eleanor took a step closer to him, her voice lowering. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Alexander. This isn’t over.”

He leaned in, his smile razor-sharp. “No, it’s not. But you won’t like how it ends.”

Eleanor took a step closer to him, her voice lowering. "You're playing a dangerous game, Alexander." "This isn't over."

He leaned in, his smile razor-sharp. "No, it's not. But you won't like how it ends."

The tension in the room was suffocating. Eleanor finally stepped back, her eyes narrowing at me before she turned and stalked away, Isabella and Ethan trailing after her.

The guests began murmuring to each other, their phones still up, recording every moment of this spectacle.

I finally found my voice, turning to Alexander. "Why are you here?"

He looked at me; his face was unreadable.

"Because someone needed to be."

Before I could formulate some sort of response, he leaned in close, putting his voice low enough for only me to hear.

"Because I'm not done with you, Amelia."

The promise in his tone sent a shiver down my back.

And he turned his back, holding me by the wrist. He started walking toward the front of the door, where my heart was beating and my world was tilting on its axis.