His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 28

His Final Betrayal Was My First Move Chapter 28

Amelia didn’t even bother to argue. If the purpose of this gathering was to see her embarrass herself, then turning and leaving was the best response.

She was just about to pick up her clutch when the bar door opened.

Daphne appeared at the entrance, smiling and waving to everyone.

“Sorry, everyone. Boston traffic is terrible. I’m late.” She adjusted the shawl over her shoulders, her voice carrying clearly across the rooftop. “It’s all Griffin’s fault. He insisted the wind was strong tonight and was worried I’d be cold, so he drove all the way back to the Beacon Hill apartment to get me this Hermès shawl.”

With one sentence, she declared her victory and her ownership.

“Griffin is still so good to you,” Mark immediately gushed, rushing forward like a diligent announcer. “We were just talking about you, Amelia, and Griffin.”

Daphne’s gaze finally landed on Amelia. She covered her mouth in feigned surprise, then smiled sweetly.

“Amelia, you’re here too. I was afraid you wouldn’t come, that you were blaming me.”

“Why would she blame you?” another alumna chimed in, playing her part in the high school drama.

Daphne sighed, her face a mask of innocence and helplessness.

“What else? It’s all Griffin’s fault. His feelings for me are still the same as they ever were. Amelia got jealous and insisted on filing for divorce, then blamed me for the marriage falling apart.” As she spoke, her eyes reddened. “I feel sorry for Amelia, too, but… you can’t control love, can you? Griffin loves me, not her. There’s nothing anyone can do about that.”

“To be married for so many years and never have your husband’s love… Amelia must have had a hard time. Poor thing,” someone murmured in agreement.

A malicious, suppressed laugh rippled through the bar.

“If this was your purpose tonight,” Amelia finally said, her voice cold as ice, “then I can only apologize. To me, Griffin is just an ex-husband, a stranger with no legal or social connection to me.”

Amelia’s calm dismissal clearly wasn’t in Daphne’s script. She froze for a moment, then tears began to fall.

“Amelia, how can you say that? I… I only wanted to smooth things over between us…”

Looking at Daphne’s performance, Amelia suddenly found it absurd. She laughed, a soft, clear sound that cut through Daphne’s sobs.

The room fell into a strange silence.

One person crying, one person laughing.

In the next second, everyone moved, rushing toward the weeping Daphne to hand her tissues, offer soft words of comfort, and shoot condemning looks at Amelia.

Amelia looked at this group of Ivy League graduates, now elites in their fields. They had been so easily manipulated by such a crude soap opera trick, like a group of thoughtless puppets.

She offered no explanation. She simply picked up her handbag, turned, and walked off this ridiculous stage without looking back, leaving a room full of shocked and contemptuous faces behind her.