I should? Would my mother be proud of me if she saw me now? How long has it been since I've felt this…happy.I felt my eyes water, despite how hard I tried to stop it. I could not help the emotions that threatened to spill. Before I could respond, Vincent cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, now that the initial excitement has died down, how about we go explore the rest of the gallery?" he suggested, his gaze flickering briefly between Roman and me. "There are some other amazing pieces I think you'll both enjoy."Roman nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "That sounds like a good idea," he said. Then, with a slight hesitation, he added, "Actually, if it's alright with you, Amelia, I think I'd like to take a look around on my own for a bit. We can regroup later?"I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of being separated from him, but I quickly pushed it aside, offering him a reassuring smile. "Of course, Roman. Take your time. Vince
Alexander.He stood there, mere inches away from me, a slow grin stretching across his face. I couldn't help but notice the bruise on his lip, a stark contrast against his pale skin. For a moment, I was transported back to his empty house in LA, the days I had spent locked up in there, awaiting my fate. The memory of fear and desperation washed over me, threatening to pull me under.I never imagined I would be face to face with him again yet, here I was. "W-what are you doing here?" I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. My body trembled, and I felt myself take an involuntary step backward, desperate to put some distance between us.Why was he here? How did he find me? Is he here to take me again? Where's Roman? I looked around, eyes probably wide with panic, we were in a corner that barely anyone reached. Before Alexander could respond, Vincent was suddenly at my side, his presence solid as his arm went around my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed him approach,
AMELIAThe sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in my ears as Roman's fist connected with Alexander's jaw. Time seemed to slow down as I watched Alexander stumble backward, his hand flying to his face. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I tried to process what had just happened.As the initial shock began to wear off, I found myself studying Roman more closely. It was then that I noticed the bruises marring his handsome face - a small cut above his eyebrow, a darkening bruise on his cheekbone. That was when I realized they had fought before. This wasn't their first confrontation of the night.Thankfully, we were tucked away in a corner of the gallery, hidden from the main crowd by a large sculpture. No one seemed to have noticed the commotion, the chatter and clinking of glasses continuing in the main room.Alexander regained his footing, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he straightened up. He ran his tongue over his newly split lip, his green eyes
The drive back to Roman's mansion was tense, the silence in the car was by far the most uncomfortable I've ever had to endure. Roman and I sat in the backseat, my eyes were fixed on the road ahead, while Alexander drove and seemed to enjoy the silence, his presence a constant reminder of the bombshell he had dropped. Roman's knuckles were white on his knees, and he looked out the window, his jaw clenched so tight I feared he might crack a tooth. As we pulled up at the mansion, I noticed the absence of the usual bustling activity. The windows were dark, no warm light spilling out. It seemed the maids had clocked out for the day. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, perhaps Trenton was still back at the gallery, though we hadn't run into him on our way out. I silently hoped he would enjoy his time there more than I did. The car came to a stop, and for a moment, none of us moved. It was as if we were all waiting for someone else to make the first move, to break the fragile silence that
ROMANI stood in the living room, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, anger simmering just beneath the surface. The ice pack Amelia had given me lay forgotten on the coffee table, slowly melting into a puddle that matched the cold fury in my veins. Alexander lounged on the sofa across from me, looking far too comfortable for a man who was in the presence of the one who wanted him dead the most.The silence that settled between us was oppressive, filled with years of unspoken animosity and distrust. Alexander and I used to be friends once upon a time, business partners with a bond that only few understood. Until he chose to throw me under the bus for power, so I killed him and took everything he ever gained outside his family…at least I thought I killed the bastard. He was like a fucking cockroach! And now…he claimed to be something I desperately hoped he wouldn't be. I had spent weeks and resources searching for this man, driven by a desire for vengeance that had consumed m
AMELIAI woke up the next morning with both determination and dread settling in my stomach. The events of the previous night felt almost like a dream, but the weight of what Alexander had said was all too real. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I made a decision. Today was the day I would get answers. No more hiding, no more half-truths.I already had a big chunk of my memory missing, I was just barely getting control over my life and now…I had to know, if there truly is something more to know about my mother… With a deep breath, I pushed myself out of bed and headed for the shower. The hot water helped clear my mind, washing away some of the lingering fog of sleep and confusion. As I stood under the spray, I tried to organize my thoughts, to prepare myself for the conversations I would have to initiate. Once I was dressed and feeling somewhat more human, I reached for my phone. My finger hovered over Jessica's name for a moment before I tapped to call. The familiar sound of
I felt my breath catch in my throat. "Are you saying our family is involved in organized crime?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.Alexander's lips curved into a humorless smile. "That's putting it mildly," he said. "The Guerrero family is one of the most influential crime syndicates in Italy. Our grandfather, King Guerrero, was known as 'Il Re Ombra' - The Shadow King. He controlled everything from illegal gambling to international weapons trafficking,"My mind reeled at this information. It seemed impossible that my mother - the woman who had raised me, who had taught me to paint and to appreciate beauty in the world - could have come from such a background."But... my mom wasn't like that," I protested weakly. "She was an artist, a gentle soul," But even as I spoke the words I knew they weren't true. Trenton stepped forward then, his face etched with sympathy. "Your mother was indeed an artist, Miss Amelia. But she was also a product of her upbringing. The Guerrero family
After what felt like hours of intense conversation, I finally stood up from the chair, my legs slightly wobbly from sitting for so long. The weight of everything I had learned pressed down on me, making even the simple act of standing feel like a monumental effort."I need to head out," I announced, my voice sounding strangely hollow in the quiet room. "I have... plans."Right. I had to meet up with Jessica, get my hair done. Now that seemed to be the least of my worries, there was so much more on my mind now and perhaps part of me was regretting demanding to know the truth. Would it have been easier to just be ignorant? Alexander rose as well, his movements fluid and graceful in a way that I now recognized as the result of years of training. "I should be going too," he said, his green eyes - so similar to my own - studying my face carefully. "But Amelia, I want you to know that I'm here for you. If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know. We're family, after all,"Fam
SIX MONTHS LATERThe annual Wellington Anniversary gala was in full swing, and we'd decided to host it in our home rather than the hotel it was in late year. The ballroom of our estate glittering with lights that illuminated the beauty of the hall’s interior, reflecting against the marble floors, making it seem like the guests were walking on air. From my position near the large staircase, I could see the entire room, business associates, family members, friends all mingling in their finest attire.Jessica looked radiant in a deep green gown and she stood with Alexander near the champagne fountain, their six-month-old son making a fuss in her arms. My godson is a fast bloomer, that boy would walk the ends of the earth if his parents let him out of their sights. Probably why Jess was holding on to him like he was a lifeline. I couldn't help the light laugh that left me as I watched her and Alexander try to force the baby on Trenton. Greece, looking stunning in silver, was deep
I woke to unfamiliar shadows dancing across an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, panic seized me as I forgot where I was. Until it came rushing back and I found myself sinking deeper into the mattressRoman's bed was sinfully comfortable, the sheets soft against my skin. I stretched, my muscles protesting after yesterday's tension. Weak morning light seeped in through the slightly cracked curtains, suggesting it was still early. The storm had passed and all that was left was the scent of rain and forest, wet soil. A scent I never imagined would bring me such comfort, but it did. I slipped out of bed, my bare feet silent on the wooden floor. I still had Roman’s T-shirt on, adequate enough for modesty but still making me feel strangely vulnerable. I ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame it into something presentable, then padded quietly down the hallway.The living room was empty, no sign of Roman or the wolves. A folded blanket and pillow on the couch were the only evid
Roman chuckled, the rich sound sending heated shivers down my abdomen. His eyes crinkled at the corners, making him look more like the man I remembered. "So did you," he replied, nodding toward my pixie cut.I reached up self-consciously to touch the ends of my damp hair. "Maybe it should be called the divorce look," I said, attempting humor to break the tension."I prefer the term 'cut-off look,'" he countered, and we both laughed, the sound surprisingly easy between us.His expression softened, the rigid control slipping just a fraction. "I missed that," he said quietly. "Your humor. I'm still having a hard time believing you're actually here.""That makes two of us," I admitted, wrapping my hands around the warm mug of hot chocolate he'd made. It was sweet but not too sweet, exactly how I liked it. He'd remembered.One of the wolves approached cautiously, its golden eyes fixed on me. I tensed immediately, my body instinctively preparing for a threat."It's okay," Roman said, notici
AMELIAMy mouth opened, but no sound came out. Words, which had never failed me before, suddenly evaporated from my mind like morning dew under a harsh sun. I stood there, gun still stupidly hanging from my fingers, staring at the stranger-not-stranger before me.Roman Wellington. But not my Roman Wellington. This man was harder, sharper around the edges. The softness I remembered in his face was gone, replaced by angular planes and a jaw that could cut glass. The blonde hair threw me completely, so different from the midnight black I used to run my fingers through.I knew he was a blonde, heck, I tried to convince him a few times to stop dyeing his hair. I watched as the initial shock in his eyes faded, replaced by something cold and distant. The walls went up so fast I could almost hear them slamming into place."Amelia," he said again, this time not a question but a statement. Flat. Emotionless. "What are you doing here?"My throat felt like sandpaper. I swallowed hard, trying to
"I can make some inquiries," Nikolai replied, his voice careful, measured. "Roman Wellington is not an easy man to find if he doesn't want to be found."I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. "But you can do it, right? You have connections I don't."There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a soft sigh. "For you, Amelia, I will try. Give me a few hours to contact my people in North America and Europe. If he's left any trace, we'll find it.""Thank you," I whispered, relief washing over me like a wave. "I owe you for this.""Let's not keep score between friends," Nikolai said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'll call you when I have something."The call ended, and I sat motionless on my bed, staring at the wall. The enormity of what I was doing, searching for the man I'd walked away from two years ago, hit me. My hands trembled as I set the phone down, and I pressed them against my thighs to steady them.A soft knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts
The drive back to the manor was silent. Oppressively silent. The kind of silence that rings in your ears and makes your skin feel too tight. Jessica kept shooting worried glances my way, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. I couldn't bring myself to care. My mind was spinning with Greece's words, playing them over and over like a broken record."I haven't seen Roman in almost two years. No one has. He's gone."Greece had explained everything in that café, how Roman had methodically dismantled his life after I left. How he'd slowly withdrawn from social circles, buried himself in work, and then one day just... vanished. Left Wellington Corp in Colson's hands with an iron-clad contract and detailed instructions. Left his manor empty, his cars collecting dust in the garage. He'd even left his personal phone behind, with just a short note telling Greece not to worry, that he needed to "find himself" whatever the fuck that meant.I stared out the window,
Hi, hope you're doing good and the year has been going well for you? You must've noticed the lack of updates and I sincerely apologize for it. After my grandma's passing, things haven't been the same and I'm sad to admit that I went down a spiral and I had to take a step back for my mental health and to give you a proper ending. And I'm hoping my new book will also be ready by the time The Forgotten Marriage is done. There are five chapters left to go and maybe one bonus chapter. I can't say I'm totally fine but I'm getting there and I'm grateful to everyone who reached out and left comments as well. I really appreciate it, and I'll see you at the end. Love, Dchenemi.
AMELIAI felt like I'd been punched in the gut, all the air leaving my lungs in one desperate rush. Greece Wellington's presence was like a ghost from my past life, one I'd tried desperately to forget. My fingers tightened around the shopping bags, knuckles turning white as I struggled to maintain my composure."Jessica," I managed again, my voice lower and more upset when I didn't get an answer the first time. Jessica's eyes pleaded with me, her hand coming to rest on my forearm. "Please don't be mad," she whispered urgently, bringing her full hands up to her chest in a pleading motion."She's been trying to reach you for days. I couldn't just ignore her,” Jessica explained, her voice just as low as mine as her eyes darted between Greece and me pleadingly. “ Just hear her out, Amy…this might be good for you too, you know?”I let out a shaky breath and held back my growing anger, last thing I wanted was to project my frustrations on the pregnant woman. I knew she was trying to help
AMELIA Morning sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of my bedroom, casting warm patches across my chilly sheets. I should have felt lighter, triumphant even. The family was finally under control, the threats neutralized, and the Guerrero name secure. Yet as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling with its intricate paintings my mother had made , I felt anything but victorious. The heaviness in my chest from yesterday hadn't dissipated. If anything, it had grown worse, Alexander's words echoing in my mind like a haunting melody. "Even after two years, he's never once tried to reach out..." I didn't want to think about Roman. In fact, I had gaslighted myself into thinking it was taboo to think about him and rightfully so. How the fuck am I supposed to get him out of my head now? How the fuck am I supposed to stop thinking whether he never really cared to begin with, or what he was up to, or if he was okay. I knew he was. If anything had happened to Roman Wellington, the r