My Brother's Amberclaw Command

"Renee," my fiancé, Wesley Thornton, said, his voice void of all warmth. "I'm calling off the engagement."

Ten years. In a single, cold breath, he shattered it all.

His reason? I was just an ordinary girl from a humble background, unworthy of the glittering future he had planned for himself.

"Why?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Your background doesn't fit with where I'm going," he said, unable to meet my eyes. "My boss just approved my marriage to his daughter, Cassidy. It'll make me a partner at the firm."

A sharp pain tore through my chest, so intense it felt like my soul was being ripped in two.

I collapsed to the ground in agony, gasping for breath.

"Cassidy's father is the CEO of Sterling Holdings," Wesley said, looking down at me without a hint of guilt. "This will get me everything I want."

"You said..." I gritted my teeth against the searing pain. "You said you'd spend the rest of your life with me."

"I was young and naive then," Wesley replied, already turning away. "The engagement party is in three days. I advise you not to cause any trouble."

The streetlight cast a cold glow on his departing figure.

I watched him stride away, my fingers instinctively clutching the music box pendant—the only memento my mother had left me.

An encrypted message arrived on my phone.

"Renee, this is Shane, your brother. I've been looking for you for twenty years."

"A black card with no spending limit is on its way. The full resources of the Amberclaw Group are yours to command. Whatever trouble you're in, I've got your back."

I stared at the screen. The Amberclaw Group? The most powerful family in New York City?

Another message quickly popped up.

"I'll come to pick you up in three days. Wait for me."

My finger hovered over the delete button.

This had to be a scam. I was just an orphan. How could I possibly have a brother from the Amberclaw Group?

Just then, a voice message from Wesley arrived.

"Renee, for old times' sake, after the engagement party, I'll rent an apartment for you in Queens so you won't be out on the street."

He wanted me to watch him get engaged to another woman and expect me to be grateful for his charity.

I blocked Wesley's contact and then changed the name of the stranger's number in my phone to "Shane."

My fingers trembling, I typed out a single word. "Okay."

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1

Three days later, Wesley and Cassidy held their engagement party at the Plaza Hotel.

I saw him approaching, Cassidy on his arm. The ceremony had just ended, and now, champagne flutes clinked as guests mingled at the reception.

Three days had passed, and the flicker of guilt he might have once felt was completely gone, replaced by a smug satisfaction. He looked like he had just closed the deal of a lifetime.

Cassidy, clinging to his arm, glided across the ballroom, basking in the envious gazes of the crowd.

I stood alone in a corner, wearing a simple black dress.

It was the nicest dress I owned, yet in this lavish setting, it looked painfully plain.

"You don't look so well," Cassidy cooed, her voice dripping with false concern. Her eyes raked over my simple dress, a sneer playing on her lips. "Still not over it? I imagine the last few days must have been just awful for you."

I remained silent.

Then, I caught a familiar scent—"Midnight Bloom."

My heart clenched. I knew that scent all too well.

I had spent three whole months creating it, using the rarest Grasse roses, iris, and aged oud. Every drop of essential oil was extracted by my own hands, and every blend carried my deepest hopes.

It was meant for our wedding, infused with all my dreams for our future together.

And now, another woman was wearing it.

But the cruelest cut wasn't just that she was wearing it. My unique perfumer's signature had been erased. Every trace of my artistry was deliberately stripped away, turning my creation completely into hers.

"That's a lovely fragrance," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "It's very unique."

Cassidy smiled smugly, deliberately twirling to let the scent diffuse further. "Thank you. Wesley said you made it. I thought it was decent enough, so I decided to use it."

She looked at me with undisguised contempt. "Honestly, the formula is a little simple. No real depth. So typical of people from small towns—always seeking attention in the most basic, desperate ways."

I felt my blood boil.

Cassidy hadn't just stolen my creation—she was insulting it to my face, relishing in making me feel small.

"Renee's perfumery skills do need improvement," Wesley interjected calmly, ignoring the fury in my eyes. "After all, people from small towns have limited exposure and access to top-tier ingredients and techniques."

The guests around us began to whisper. Some snickered, others shook their heads. They looked at me with a mixture of pity and ridicule, as if I were a clown who didn't know her place.

My nails dug into my palms, the sharp sting keeping me grounded, preventing me from losing control.

None of them knew that I had spent all my savings on that bottle of perfume. I had earned the money for those rare ingredients by creating custom scents for different clients. I had worked day and night, experimenting until I finally perfected it.

I did it all because Wesley's family had taken me in when I was a child, giving me what felt like a home.

I believed that once we were married, we would spend our lives together.

Those sleepless nights had culminated in a scent meant only for our wedding. And now, another woman was wearing it.

"Renee," Wesley said suddenly, his tone formal and detached. "I've already arranged a place for you to stay. You'll be in a small company apartment in Queens."

I knew exactly what kind of apartment he was talking about. It was the temporary housing the company used for new employees—small and remote.

The apartment was located next to a highway, noisy and old. The air was stagnant, and mold crept up the corners of the walls.

For a spirit already crushed by betrayal, living there would be a slow, suffocating torture.

Wesley continued, "Even though we're no longer engaged, for old times' sake, I'll make sure you have a place in New York. You can stay on as my friend. I'll take care of you."

There it was again. He wanted me to stand here, watch him get engaged to another woman, and be grateful for his scraps.

Everyone was looking at me. They were waiting for me to be overcome with gratitude, to kneel and thank him, to accept his so-called charity.

They were waiting to see me surrender to my fate.

I took a deep breath, a fire igniting in my chest.

Then, I lifted my head and met his gaze.

"No, thank you," I said, my voice clear and firm, cutting through the noise of the ballroom. "I have a place to go. I'm leaving New York tonight."

A dead silence fell over the ballroom.