Chapter 2: The Impossible Choice

Amelia sat at the edge of her couch, staring at the black card Lucien had left on her countertop. It was unassuming, blank except for a string of embossed numbers and a name printed in sharp silver letters: Lucien Voss.

It felt heavier than it should have, as though the weight of her future had somehow been pressed into its sleek design.

Her father’s voice broke the silence. “Amy... please.”

She turned to him sharply, the fury in her chest rising to the surface like a flame starved for oxygen.

“Don’t ‘Amy’ me, Dad.” Her words cut through the tension, sharp and unrelenting.

“You sat there, looked me in the eye, and let him offer me as payment. Like I’m some—some object!”

James winced, his shoulders slumping further, as though her words physically struck him.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They would’ve killed me. I thought... I thought maybe—”

“You thought what?” Amelia stood, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“That I’d just... what? Roll over and let this happen? Sacrifice my life because you couldn’t keep your hands off a deck of cards?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Amelia’s voice wavered, anger giving way to the raw edges of fear.

“Do you even know who he is? What kind of man you just handed me over to?”

James’s silence was answer enough.

She turned away, pacing the small space of her apartment. Her mind raced, chasing after scenarios that offered some kind of escape. A way to pay the debt. A way to save her father. A way to avoid Lucien Voss altogether.

But there was no way out. Not really.

Her father had seen to that.

By the time the silence stretched too long to bear, Amelia turned back to her father. He sat hunched over on the couch, his head in his hands, looking more like a ghost than a man. She almost pitied him. Almost.

“You know what’s sick about all of this?” she said, her voice quieter now but no less cutting.

“It’s not even about the money. He doesn’t need seven million dollars. Men like Lucien Voss don’t need anything. He’s doing this because he can. Because he wants to own something. Someone.”

James lifted his head slightly, his eyes red and swollen.

“He said he wouldn’t hurt you. That he’d—”

“Stop.” She held up her hand, shaking her head.

“Don’t even finish that sentence. You think I care what he said? You think I trust anything coming out of his mouth?”

Her father looked away, shame etched into every line of his face.

Amelia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to rein in her spiraling thoughts.

“You need to leave,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now.

James’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You need to leave,” she repeated, firmer this time. “Go. I can’t... I can’t look at you right now.”

“Amelia, please. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“Just go.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “Go before I say something I can’t take back.”

Her father hesitated for a moment, his face crumpling as he realized there was no way to salvage this. Slowly, he rose from the couch, casting one last pleading glance in her direction. When she didn’t respond, he shuffled toward the door, shoulders hunched under the weight of his guilt.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Amelia alone.

She sat on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the couch, staring up at the cracked ceiling of her apartment. The weight of everything crushed down on her. Her father’s betrayal, the impossible choice in front of her, the presence of a man like Lucien Voss lingering in the back of her mind like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Her mind wandered back to him, to the way he’d looked at her with those cold, unfeeling eyes. He didn’t see her as a person. She was a means to an end, a pawn in whatever game he was playing.

Control.

That’s what he’d said. What he wanted.

But why? Why her? Why not someone else, someone who would gladly step into a life of wealth and privilege for the chance to be with a man like him?

The questions spiraled endlessly in her mind, but there were no answers. Not yet.

She glanced at the black card on the counter, her stomach twisting into knots. The thought of calling him, of willingly stepping into his world, made her skin crawl. But what other choice did she have? If she didn’t, her father would pay the price.

And she couldn’t let that happen.

The hours dragged by as Amelia tried to figure out what to do. She paced the apartment, her thoughts pinging back and forth between anger, fear, and a small, unwelcome whisper of curiosity.

What would life with Lucien Voss even look like? A gilded cage, no doubt. A prison of luxury where she’d trade her freedom for safety.

Her chest tightened at the thought.

She imagined standing by his side, pretending to be his devoted wife while the world looked on, blissfully unaware of the truth. She imagined the way he would look at her—not with love, but with ownership. The way his hands might touch her—not with tenderness, but with possession.

She shook the thoughts away, shuddering.

No. She couldn’t let herself think about that. Not yet.

By the time the sun began to rise, she had made her decision.

It wasn’t a choice, not really. It was survival.

She walked to the counter, her movements slow and deliberate, and picked up the card. The edges felt sharp against her fingertips, as though even the object itself was warning her away.

With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

It rang twice before his voice came through, low and smooth, like a predator who already knew his prey was caught.

“Miss Rivers,” Lucien said. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

Her hand tightened around the phone.

“I’ll do it,” she said, forcing the words out before she could change her mind.

“I’ll marry you.”

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, she thought she could hear the faintest hint of satisfaction in his silence.

“Good,” he said finally. “You’ve made the right choice.”

Her stomach churned. She doubted that very much.

Lucien’s voice remained calm, almost indifferent.

“A car will pick you up tomorrow morning. Pack light.”

“Pack light?” she repeated, her voice thick with disbelief.

“Is this some kind of business trip to you?”

He chuckled, low and sharp. “Business, pleasure, does it matter? You’ve made your choice, Miss Rivers. The rest is mine to decide.”

Her stomach twisted as the call abruptly ended, the dial tone ringing in her ear like a judge’s gavel. Amelia lowered the phone slowly, her hand trembling. The weight of what she’d just agreed to settled over her like a smothering blanket.

She pressed her palm to her forehead, her breath quickening. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything will change.

The thought sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her, but before she could spiral further, a sharp knock at the door shattered the silence.

She froze, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Lucien couldn’t have meant now, could he?

The knock came again, louder this time.

Amelia’s throat went dry as she crept toward the door, her heart thudding with each step. Slowly, she peeked through the peephole.

Her breath caught.

The figure standing on the other side wasn’t her father.

It wasn’t Lucien, either.

But whoever it was... they were watching her, their face obscured by the shadows of the hallway.

“Miss Rivers,” a low, unfamiliar voice called through the door, sending a shiver down her spine. “It’s time to go.”