Page 35 of Betrayed By Sin

I inhale a deep breath, “Thank you, I mean that truly.” Amelia places a delicate hand on my shoulder. It’s light, but it anchors me like a pin through silk. Her presence is graceful, sure, but there's steel beneath it. A different kind of power than I’ve grown up witnessing. One that smiles, and waits, and wins without raising its voice.

“My whole life changed when I met Sin,” I finish, truth hanging between us, knowing it’s safe to talk to her about him. “and then finding out I was a Rusco…”

Amelia does the hand motion ofmind blown, and it’s so unexpected coming from someone who looks like she runs a luxury espionage firm that I actually laugh.

“I was hoping that would break the tension,” she murmurs, smiling.

“It worked,” I admit, softening.

Her hand lingers just a moment longer before she moves to the window, where golden light spills across the marble floor like it knows its place.

“I didn’t know anything either,” she says. “When I met Leon, I was a barista in Tribeca. I wore combat boots and thought capitalism could be overthrown with enough protest signs. Then I met a man with a smile that made me forget my apartment had mold in the ceiling.”

That makes me grin. “You wore combat boots?”

She tosses me a look. “Don’t let the tailored dresses fool you. I had a punk phase that nearly gave Leon a heart attack.”

“I can’t picture that.”

“I had purple hair.”

“No.”

She nods solemnly. “There are photos. They’ve been buried.”

We both laugh, but it fades quickly, like a lighter flame flickering out just as the wind shifts.

Her voice lowers. “There’s something no one tells you when you’re on the edge of this life, Magnolia. It’s not the bullets or betrayals that change you first. It’s the choices. The tiny, quiet ones. The ones you make when no one’s looking.”

I meet her eyes, and they’re no longer the elegant blue of a refined hostess. They’re the eyes of someone who’s seen too much and smiled through it anyway.

“I’ve had to make choices,” I whisper. “Already.”

“I know you have.” Her expression softens, but it doesn’t lose its weight. “And you’ll make harder ones still.”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

She pauses, watching me. “If I may speak freely?”

I gesture for her to go ahead.

“There’s strength in you, and not just because of who your family is. You ask questions even when it’s easier not to. You calculate. But don’t let the calculating steal your instincts. Zeik has told me about you, he may be boisterous, but he watches.” I don’t know how to feel about that. “Don’t lose the girl who says what she means, even if it gets her in trouble. You’re going to need her to survive this.”

I blink, suddenly feeling like I’m being mentored by a queen in a war movie.

“Is this the part where you give me a sword and send me to battle?” I ask, trying to lift the heaviness.

Amelia cracks a smile. “Not yet. But I might offer you a martini and a burner phone.”

I snort. “I already have a burner phone.”

“Of course you do,” she says dryly, and then, more seriously, “You’re welcome here, Magnolia. Not just politically. Personally. If you ever need anything. Discretion, sanctuary, a place where no one’s watching. This house is one of the few where no favors will be owed.”

That knocks the wind out of me.

“That’s rare,” I murmur.

“It is.” She gives a small nod. “Don’t waste it.”