RUTHLESS REDEMPTION : THE RISE OF AMELIA

Chapter 1

Amelia Carter had spent the entire day making sure everything was perfect.

The dinner reservation, the gift, the small speech she had rehearsed in her mind. She wanted tonight to be special. It was their Twentieth wedding anniversary, a milestone that symbolized love, endurance, and commitment.

She had given up her dreams, her ambitions, even her youth to build a home, raise their children, and support her husband’s career. Through financial struggles, sleepless nights with sick babies, and long years of playing the role of the perfect wife, she had endured it all. But she believed it was worth it. Because love meant sacrifice, didn’t it?

She checked the time again. 8:30 PM.

Richard was late.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, her stomach twisting with unease. She had texted him earlier, reminding him about their dinner plans. He had responded with a short, "Busy. Will try to make it."

She told herself he would come. He had to.

The restaurant was elegant and dimly lit, the soft glow of candles reflecting off the polished wine glasses. A waiter hovered nearby, casting her a sympathetic glance.

She smiled politely, hiding the growing discomfort crawling up her spine.

Then, just as she was about to reach for her phone again, she saw him.

Relief flooded through her, until she noticed he wasn’t alone.

Her breath caught in her throat as Richard walked toward her with a woman beside him.

Amelia’s world tilted.

The woman was young. Tall. A cascade of golden hair framed her delicate features. She wore a red dress, the kind that clung to every curve, the kind Amelia hadn’t worn in years.

People turned to look as they passed. The woman’s arm was hooked through Richard’s, her body pressed close, her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Amelia felt her pulse pound in her ears.

This couldn’t be real.

Richard stopped in front of her table, his expression unreadable.

"Amelia," he said, as if greeting a colleague, not his wife of nearly two decades. "Meet Charlotte."

Her fingers trembled as they gripped the edge of the table. She searched his face, waiting for the punchline, the explanation.

It didn’t come.

Charlotte extended a manicured hand, her voice light. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."

Finally?

Amelia’s chest tightened.

"What is this?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the soft clatter of silverware and hushed conversations around them.

Richard exhaled, as if he was the one burdened. "I wanted to do this properly."

"Do what properly?"

His gaze remained cold, distant. "Charlotte and I have been together for two years."

Two years.

Amelia’s vision blurred for a moment.

Two years. While she had been waiting for him to come home, while she had been raising their children, while she had been celebrating his successes and picking up the pieces of his failures, he had been with her.

Her throat felt raw. "Richard, this is our anniversary."

"I know." His tone was indifferent, detached. "That’s why I thought it was the perfect time to tell you."

A slow, creeping horror settled into her bones.

The perfect time.

Not an accident. Not a drunken mistake. A choice. Deliberate and cruel.

Amelia’s fingers curled into her lap, her nails digging into her palm to keep from breaking down in front of them.

"You’re leaving me," she stated, her voice eerily calm.

Richard pulled out a chair, sitting down as if this was a casual dinner and not the destruction of her entire life. Charlotte sat beside him, her hand resting on his.

He didn’t even hesitate. "Yes."

A sharp breath hitched in her throat.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice cracked.

"Because I love her," Richard said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Charlotte smiled, her fingers brushing over his knuckles. "We didn’t mean for it to happen, but sometimes, love finds you when you least expect it."

Amelia swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

"You're really doing this?" she whispered.

Richard leaned back, studying her with something that resembled boredom. "It’s already done. Your things are packed. The house belongs to Charlotte now."

A sharp, suffocating silence settled between them.

Amelia couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

"You packed my things?" The words barely made it past her lips.

Richard nodded, completely unaffected. "The driver is outside. He’ll take you wherever you need to go."

Her stomach twisted painfully.

She wasn’t even worth a conversation. A warning. Nothing.

The betrayal ran so deep it was unbearable.

Then her phone vibrated. A message.

"Mom, please don’t make a scene. Dad deserves to be happy."

Julia. Her eldest.

Her fingers trembled as she read the words again.

Another message popped up. "We talked about it. We’re happy for Dad. Please don’t make this difficult."

Ethan.

Tears stung her eyes.

She scrolled, her heart pounding. Mia. Her youngest.

"Charlotte is really nice. Maybe you should just let this go."

The restaurant walls blurred.

Her hands went numb.

Her children had sided with them.

Her own flesh and blood, the ones she had carried, raised, nurtured, they had thrown her away as easily as Richard had.

Something inside her cracked.

She looked up, and for the first time in her life, she saw Richard for who he truly was. Not the man she had loved. Not the man she had sacrificed for.

A stranger.

A selfish, ruthless man who had taken everything from her without a second thought.

Her gaze flickered to Charlotte, who watched her with that same amused, pitying smile.

"Amelia," Richard said, checking his watch. "Let’s not drag this out. The driver’s waiting."

Something inside her snapped.

She stood slowly, her chair scraping against the floor. Every muscle in her body ached from the sheer weight of betrayal, but she refused to fall apart here.

She turned, walking away without another word.

Richard called after her, but she didn’t stop.

Not when she stepped out into the cold night.

Not when she reached the waiting car.

Not even when she sank into the backseat, her hands curled into fists on her lap.

The driver turned. "Where to, ma’am?"

She had no home. No husband. No children.

She had nothing.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

"Drive," she whispered.

As the car pulled away, Amelia stared out at the city lights.

One thought burned through the agony consuming her.

One day, they would regret this.

And when that day came, she wouldn’t be the one begging.