Victor was a man of rigid military routine. Every night at ten o'clock, the lights in the Spencer mansion were extinguished, casting the grand hallways into deep shadow. When the younger generation moved in, they had no choice but to adapt to his silence.

Thirsty and restless, Amelia used her phone as a flashlight, navigating toward the second-floor kitchen. She had barely taken a few steps when a tall figure emerged from the gloom, standing like a spectral sentinel.

"Who’s there?" she whispered, her heart racing.

"You’re jumpy, Ms. White," Chris’s voice echoed, sounding hollow in the dark. "But in my own house, I’m the one who should be asking the questions."

"Mr. Spencer, lurking in the dark is hardly the behavior of a gentleman," Amelia replied coldly, trying to mask her unease.

"Gentlemanly behavior hasn't gotten me the truth," Chris countered. He didn't wait for her response. He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming as he guided—almost forced—her toward the stairs. "Come with me. There’s something you need to remember."

Before Amelia could protest, they were on the third floor, standing before a door she knew only too well. He pushed it open and led her inside, the heavy click of the lock sounding like a gavel in the silence.

"Do you recognize this room?" Chris loomed over her, his tall frame cutting off the moonlight.

"You’re out of line, Chris!" Amelia snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. "Look at me! I am Bella White. I am not the woman you lost."

"I don't believe in ghosts, but I believe in my own eyes," Chris’s voice was raw, teetering on a dangerous edge. "Every gesture, every tilt of your head... it all screams her name."

"I am your future aunt," Amelia spat, using her new identity as a shield. "You’ve lost your mind."

Chris let out a low, humorless laugh. "Aunt? You think Lucius Howard’s protection makes you untouchable? You’re as naive as she was."

He moved closer, pinning her into the corner with his shadow. "Four years ago, in this very room, she would have done anything to keep me. She threw away her dignity for a man who didn't even see her."

The memory hit Amelia like a physical blow. She remembered that desperate girl—the one who thought a child could save a dying marriage, the one who had felt utterly worthless after being rejected. But that girl was gone.

"How pathetic you are," Amelia whispered into the darkness. "You claim to know her, yet you only ever looked down on her. If I were Amelia, I would have chosen the car accident over staying another day by your side."

"Silence!" Chris growled, his aura radiating a volatile energy.

"Why? Does the truth sting?" Amelia challenged. "You hurt her until there was nothing left. You treated her like a shadow, an insignificant ghost in your house. And now you’re obsessed with the ghost you created?"

Chris paused, a twisted sort of pride flickering in his tone. "But she loved me. More than anyone else ever could."

Amelia was stunned. He sounded proud of that unrequited devotion, as if her suffering was a trophy he could still claim. "Keep dreaming, Mr. Spencer. I am not here to play a part in your delusions."

She tried to push past him, but Chris didn't move. He leaned in, his face inches from hers, his breath cold against her skin. The tension was suffocating—a silent, aggressive demand for her to break. Amelia didn't flinch. She stared back with a gaze that was as hard as flint.

"I find your obsession... disgusting," she said, her voice a lethal whisper.

She pushed him aside with a strength that surprised them both and walked toward the door. To her shock, Victor was standing in the hallway, his face etched with disappointment.

A few moments later, they were in Victor’s study.

"Grandpa, she is Amelia. She’s deceiving us all," Chris insisted, his voice thick with suppressed fury.

Amelia stood close to Victor, silent and composed. She didn't need to defend herself; the older man was already trembling with rage.

"How long are you going to harass this woman?" Victor sighed, his voice heavy. "She is Bella White. She belongs with Lucius. Even if Amelia were alive, why would she return to a man who never gave her a single day of peace?"

Chris gritted his teeth, his eyes locked on Amelia with the intensity of a predator. "I don't care what the world says. I will never let go of what is mine."

"Get out!" Victor roared, sweeping a porcelain cup off the table. The sound of it shattering against the floor echoed like a gunshot.

Chris turned and stormed out, but the look he gave Amelia as he left was a promise of a hunt that was only beginning. As the door slammed shut, Leila Ross emerged from the shadows to follow him, leaving the air in the villa feeling suddenly, blessedly clear.