AMELIAConsciousness returned to me slowly, like wading through thick fog. My head felt heavy, my thoughts scattered and unfocused as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The last clear memory I had was of Vincent's embrace, the comfort of a friend's arms around me, and then... nothing. I opened my eyes slowly and noticed the ceiling, it was high and gray, long ropes or rather trinket like bulbs with crystals around them dangled over my head. My heart began to race and my fingers clenched as it became clear to me that I wasn't in my bedroom. I looked around in a panic and found white walls, even in the dim lighting, I could make out the paint. All I did was speak to Vincent…what the fuck? Now I found myself in an unfamiliar room, the air thick with the dusty scent of not being used for a long time and something else I couldn't quite identify.I noticed the white tarps that covered a few of the furniture, I couldn't see anything else beyond that.The darkness pressed in around
AMELIAThe smile playing across Isabella's face as she watched me process Vincent's presence made my heart burn with intense hatred. She was clearly savoring every moment of my devastation, drinking in my pain like fine wine. Vincent – or whoever he really was – stood there impassively, his familiar features arranged in an expression so devoid of his usual emotion it seemed carved from stone. Gone was any trace of the warm, understanding friend I thought I'd known. In his place stood a stranger wearing a face I once trusted.It felt like the rudest awakening of all, I was only just coming to terms with Fiona and even Bertha trying to get me killed but Vince? My throat felt tight as I fought back tears that threatened to spill. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry, even as my world crumbled around me yet again. But I needed to understand. I needed to know why."Why?" The word came out as barely more than a whisper, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep i
AMELIAFive days. One hundred and twenty hours of being trapped in this prison, each minute stretching into an eternity of helpless desperation. The room, with its elegant Italian furniture and sweeping views of Rome, had become my personal hell. They had taken off the covers from the furniture, told me it was once my mother's bedroom. I was in Guerrero manor, a family house in a fucking skyscraper. The highest room, a place my mother probably sought solace and now it was my cell. I'd tried every door, every window, even searched for hidden passages like some character in a gothic novel, but found nothing. The doors were sealed tight, the windows reinforced with something that wouldn't break no matter how hard I struck them. Even the beautiful crystal vase I'd hurled in desperation had merely bounced off, leaving not so much as a scratch.From my perch high above the city, I watched life continue below with a sense of surreal detachment. People moved through the streets like tiny d
ROMAN FOUR DAYS AGO… The sketch in my hand trembled as realization crashed over me like a wave of ice water. Those familiar features, that seemingly warm smile that had never quite reached his eyes – Vincent. Pierce! Our fucking neighbor?! The man who had wormed his way into our lives after her accident despite being our neighbor for years. He got so close to Amelia…the way he looked at her, the way he tried to get closer every fucking time. How could I have been so blind? How could I have been so stupid?! My grip tightened until the paper crumpled between my fingers, fury coursing through my veins like molten lead. "Dimitri," I barked, my voice cutting through the tension-filled air of the cabin. "Watch her. If she so much as breathes wrong, handle it." My eyes locked onto Bertha's terrified face, watching as the blood drained from her cheeks. "You helped him get close to my wife again. Remember that when you're lying awake tonight." I rose to my feet, “For every scratc
ROMAN My finger tightened instinctively on the trigger as I studied my cousin, but something in his relaxed posture made me hesitate. He moved with an uncanny grace as he stepped closer, his cane barely touching the ground, more an accessory than a necessity. When he removed his sunglasses, I understood why – behind them, white orbs stared unseeingly ahead, yet somehow I felt more seen than I had in years. "The great Roman Volkov," Nikolai mused, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Always so quick to reach for your weapon. Some things never change, cousin." He moved past me with the confidence of someone who could see every obstacle, his cane making soft taps against the marble floor. "Though I must say, your taste in interior design has improved significantly." He spoke like we were close, but I'd only met the man once when I was younger…two years younger than me, a strange child that had no innocence left in him. There was an attack that left both his eyes damaged beyond repai
ROMAN The mining complex loomed before us in the early morning light, a hulking mass of concrete and rusted metal that seemed to devour the shadows around it. I crouched behind a piece of machinery, my body coiled tight with anticipation as I watched the guards make their rounds through my scope. "Three on the perimeter, two at each entrance," Nikolai's voice came through my earpiece, soft but crystal clear. Even from his position in the command vehicle half a mile away, he somehow knew exactly what was happening. "They're rotating every fifteen minutes, clockwork precision. Military training, just like our informant said." "How many inside?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Heat signatures show twelve moving bodies on the main level, four in the lower sections." There was a pause, then, "One signature in the deepest part of the complex. Isolated. That's her, Roman." My fingers tightened on my rifle. "You're sure?" "The body temperature is slightly elevated, consistent
AMELIAOver a week had passed since I'd first woken in this goddamn bedroom, though time had begun to lose all meaning. The hope I'd initially clung to – that Roman would find me, that someone would notice my absence and come to my rescue – had slowly withered away like flowers left too long without water. I'd spent countless hours staring out at the skyline, watching the sun rise and set over ancient buildings that had witnessed centuries of human suffering. Now they were witnessing mine.My heart ached each time I saw people pass by, moving freely without knowing just how grateful they should be that they could. Marcus hadn't kissed a day of his visits, his constant torture and each day that passed brought me closer to the day he would finally act on his obvious urges that he's been talking about. He's going to start hurting me, not just mentally but physically. The got of it alone got him off. I'd seen him massage his dick a few times with his eyes on me, fantasizing of a day
AMELIAA FEW DAYS LATER… Isabella had kept her word. After the meeting with Mr. Rossi and a few others who Isabella failed to mention, she didn't send me back to the building I was locked up in. She gave me two flight tickets and told me to make a choice, one sent me back home and the other…was to Sicily. To the heart of all our family's operations. She gave me a choice, once she knew would make my mind heavy with thoughts. An opportunity at power. But I already had my own plans…one I intended to execute once I was out of her grasp. I was supposed to be boarding a plane going back home before Marcus got to me, probably angry that Isabella didn't keep her end of whatever it was their bargain was. I suspected it was me. I barely remembered what happened after that, I was pumped full of whatever it was Marcus spent the last few days injecting me with. I could barely keep my eyes open, I couldn't walk and my thoughts were muddled even as panic gripped me. Fear that I had been doub
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