Crowned by the Man They Feared (Amelia and Jeremy) novel Chapter 643

"Are you seriously picturing yourself as a victim?"

In the video, Sabrina's expression was nothing like the version everyone was used to seeing.

Her face on screen was dark, cunning, and cold—a chilling contrast to the "breath of fresh air" she pretended to be.

Especially once the two women spoke, the owners of the voices were unmistakable.

So, this was the real footage—the genuine, unedited recording.

"Hiss—" A collective intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

Everyone was stunned, and the whispers erupted instantly.

"This is the real recording, right? The other one was edited beyond recognition! Technology is terrifying now—people can frame you this easily?"

"It's terrifying! She looks so elegant, but her heart is pure venom."

"No wonder Ms. Amelia was so confident earlier—she had solid evidence the whole time."

"I listened carefully. You really could splice those words together to make that fake audio. That's outrageous."

"I never imagined the eldest Ms. Sabrina could be this vicious and sinister."

"Wait ... did she poison her aunt just to pin it on Ms. Amelia?"

Amid the chatter, Maxwell's voice was the sharpest as he lashed out to defend his sister.

Patience and Josie naturally added fuel to the fire.

The waves of discussion crashed over Sabrina, every word piercing her like needles.

Her face went deathly pale, her body trembling uncontrollably as she stared at the screen, lips quivering—yet not a single sound came out.

"This ... this is impossible! It's not real!" Brielle shrieked, shaking her head violently, refusing to believe what she was seeing.

"It has to be fake! You forged it! Amelia, you liar—you fabricated this just to frame my cousin!"

Amelia cast her a cold, dismissive glance, her tone dripping with mockery. "Fabricated? Brielle, do you really think everyone here is as stupid as you?"

"Deep down, you already know the truth—you just can't accept that the cousin you worship isn't who you thought she was. My condolences."

Amelia looked at her with open pity.

After tonight, Brielle would likely never trust Sabrina the same way again.

Which, frankly, would make turning her in the future much easier.

Amelia paused, then fixed her gaze—sharp as a blade—on Sabrina's ashen face. "Sabrina, the evidence is right here. What else do you have to say?"

"I ... I..." Sabrina opened her mouth, her voice dry and broken, before her shoulders finally slumped and all color drained from her face.

And a darker thought crept in—what if Aunt Nydia really had been hurt by her?

The idea that her aunt might have been poisoned by Sabrina just to throw the blame onto Amelia made Brielle's skin crawl.

The more she thought about it, the more horrifying it became; fear settled in her chest like ice, refusing to melt.

In the end, all she could do was lower her head and trail after Sabrina, humiliated and shaken.

Once the spectacle was over, the party stitched itself back together; the guests who had come just to eat and drink decided they'd seen enough drama for one night and drifted back to their champagne and small talk.

Nothing else unexpected happened all the way to the end of the night.

Through it all, Amelia stayed composed, as if the whole ugly scene had been nothing more than background noise.

She handled the follow-up arrangements with calm efficiency, saw off the key guests one by one, and never once showed a flicker of panic—only a cool, unfathomable steadiness in her eyes.

When the party finally wrapped, Jeremy stayed by her side, and went with her straight to the hospital to check on Nydia.

By the time they arrived, Nydia had already been moved into a private room.

Her pulse was steady, the ugly gray tint had faded from her face, and a faint flush was returning to her cheeks—it looked like she was no longer in immediate danger.

It was late; only Nydia, a nurse, and a few maids from the Jordans were left in the quiet room.

Cora had already been taken home by Esmond.

As for Sabrina, she was nowhere to be seen—whether she was too guilty to show up, or holed up somewhere rehearsing what to tell her grandmother and aunt, only she knew.