AMELIA
I watched with a blank expression as a nervous-looking man with a doctor's briefcase walked into the bedroom.
Getting into the bedroom wasn’t an easy feat, it took Trenton convincing Roman he didn’t have to throw me over his shoulder…the fucking psycho. For a man who claimed to be my husband, he sure acted like I was his lifelong nemesis. I was seated at the edge of the bed while being questioned. “What is the last thing you remember?” The nervous man said, Dr. Britton, he called himself and I wondered if I was supposed to remember him too. “I got expelled, I ran away from home, now I’m here,” I said, leaving out the part where I eagerly wanted a truck to hit me intentionally. Roman's brooding expression darkened even further as I spoke and Trenton’s was filled with worry. Dr. Britton nodded with an understanding gaze, checked my eyes, my mobility, asked about my headache and stomach ache, what I ate last—which I didn’t remember—shocker. After what seemed to be hours but only minutes, he heaved a sigh and took a few steps away from the bed, turning around to face Roman and Trenton. “We can’t be certain but it seems Mrs. Wellington is having an adverse reaction to food poisoning,” He began, clearing his throat when he muttered the last word. My eyes widened, I looked at Roman and then back at the doctor. “Are you saying I’ve been poisoned?” I couldn’t help the dread that seeped into my tone. Dr. Britton coughed and looked away, “For now I can not be certain of that until we run proper tests tomorrow, what I am certain of is that your pain seems to have triggered your memory loss,” Britton said, unable to meet my eyes like he feared me. “How can food poisoning cause amnesia?” Roman asked gruffly, looking more displeased by the situation as the seconds passed. “I can’t know for certain until I bring the proper tools and run the tests…Mr. Wellington and her memories might as well return by morning,” Britton tried to reassure the brooding man in front of him. Roman's lips twisted and then parted like he intended to ask another question. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Britton,” Trenton quickly said, his kind eyes meeting mine for a moment before he ushered the doctor out of the bedroom. And we were left alone. “Uh…so how does this work?” His brows furrowed and he finally met my eyes, that compelling blue gaze making me momentarily forget my thoughts. “How does what work?” he practically growled out, seeming irritated by the fact that was speaking to him. Rude. “Our sleeping arrangements,” I gestured at the bedroom, “I don’t know about you but it’s been a long night, I got expelled and married on the same day,” I muttered while scratching my chin. I was still finding it quite hard to wrap my head around. He seemed dazed like he couldn’t find the words to say. Then his lips thinned and his frown deepened. “This is our bedroom,” he said with an obvious look. His discontent was obvious. “Not anymore,” I interjected with a nervous chuckle. “Excuse me?” Roman said darkly, his eyes narrowed into slits. “You’re excused,” I grinned, “Thanks for understanding, I can’t sleep on a bed with a man I do not know, so…” I trailed off when I noticed the anger that seemed to be brewing in his blue depths. Did I read him wrong? “I will not be leaving my bedroom for you!” Roman declared. “Our bedroom,” I corrected with a cough, “Please?” I added with a small smile, hoping I could soften the iceberg a bit. He didn’t budge, I heard his teeth gritting as he worked his jaw, seemingly considering my words. There’s no way in hell I’m sharing a bed with a man I just met, no matter how hot he is! He mumbled something under his breath. Another Russian curse, I realized. Is he Russian or something? Then he stomped forward, walking into what seemed to be a closet and coming out with a heap of clothing in his hands. “This doesn’t change anything, Amelia, you will be attending my father’s 60th birthday party tomorrow, so you better remember everything by morning!” he said in a cold voice that left no room for argument and sent chills down my spine. I swallowed thickly. The hatred in his eyes made me squirm. Still, I found myself forcing a grin. “I'll try my best!” I joked, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. I will not show just how afraid I am to a stranger! My words only seemed to infuriate him further as he opened the bedroom door and slammed it close so hard that I felt the wind in my face and pressure in my ears. My head began to ache again. I slowly sank into the soft mattress and my lids became heavy. Maybe. If I sleep… The more I thought about it, the easier I let the comfort of slumber embrace me. Everything else is forgotten. Until the sound of a shrill alarm had my eyes snapping open and had me lurching off the bed. It was a rather confusing morning, I had to find the bathroom while trying to accept my situation. I didn’t remember a thing. My hair was waist-length, my skin was paler. There was no sensible outfit in the closet and a few times I contemplated wearing some of Roman’s but quickly decided against it. The man hated me, I had no clue why but I won’t it bother me. I picked the only shorts I could find and threw on a camisole after my bath. Then I left the bedroom and headed downstairs. I could still remember the way to the living room. The magnificent mansion was unlike anywhere I’d ever been in. There was a busy sound around the house, I ran into two young women in maid uniforms who showed me the way to the kitchen. They called me Mrs. Wellington. When I entered the dining room that was right next to the kitchen, Roman sat at the head of the table, eating his food with that permanent, angry expression on his face. He was looking down at his laptop sternly, some papers beside him, and then his food on the other side. I swallowed, suddenly feeling too nervous to approach. Then he noticed my presence and his shoulders visibly stiffened as he raised his head to meet my gaze. I forced a smile and that dampened his mood. “You still don’t remember,” he said, annoyed by the fact. He pushed the papers closer to the seat next to him. “That doesn’t matter, you have to sign them,” The divorce papers, I realized. “Was I such a terrible wife?” I teased, “You’re so eager to divorce me,” I raised a brow as I sat down and held the papers, reading through them. With a low growl, he slammed his laptop shut making me flinch from the sudden sound. When I turned, his eyes blazed with fury. “You think this is a fucking joke, Amelia?!” I gasped, not expecting the harshness in his tone to cut so deeply. “You dragged me into this fucking lifeless marriage that I want no part of, you ruined my life! My future!” he slammed a fist down on the table, his voice getting louder, “ You forced your stupid hollow affections on me and I hate the fucking sight of you, I hate every word that leaves those ugly lips so yes, you were a fucking bad wife, you are!” he yelled angrily, looking almost overwhelmed by the intense hate he felt. Is he…going to hit me? My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t move or breathe. “I don’t give a fuck if you don’t remember anything, you will sign those fucking papers and free me from this torture!” Was I such a bad person? Did I truly drag him into this marriage? Did I force my affections on this man? I let out a shaky breath, watching him breathe heavily as his crazed eyes met mine. I had no words. None. “Tonight, we will meet mine and your family,” he said, each word said through gritted teeth, “You better behave your fucking self in front of everyone, Amelia or God help me…” He leaned down and gripped my wrist so tight that I yelped out in pain, the burning sensation caused my eyes to water. “…your amnesia will be the least of your worries!” He finished with a snarl. Right there and then I knew, his threat wasn’t empty. He would destroy me if I crossed him. The rude bastard! How…how did I get myself into this mess?AMELIAI spent the rest of the day in the bedroom I’d slept in.Roman’s warning was enough to keep me livid for the better half of the day, rethinking my life choices, including the ones I couldn’t remember.Now I had a birthday party to attend…my supposed father-in-law who I knew nothing about. The more time passed, the more worried I became.I found a phone I was sure belonged to me, seeing as the wedding portrait was on the lock screen. There was no way it would belong to Roman who hated me.I didn’t know the password. I tossed it aside with a frustrated sigh, my eyes landed on the clock by the bed and I realized I had to get ready.Roman had said 6:30, it was 6 pm.Begrudgingly I walked into the rather spacious walk-in closet and ruffled through my side.Again, I found nothing sensible enough to wear out, just long, loose dresses that looked more like maternity gowns. Then suits…why the hell did I buy so many suits?I ended up settling for a dress I remembered, one I bought a few
AMELIABreathe, Amelia. I reminded myself, my feet rooted to the spot as my sister's familiar eyes met mine. The deadly glare, the venom with no hint of shame or guilt that I had just found her kissing the man who called himself my husband. Though it seemed to me like I had only just seen her two days ago, when she reminded me I was the daughter of a dead whore, looking at her now invited a strange feeling. Like I had not seen her in a long time. Still, that anger and hatred at the immediate sight of her grew even more now that I saw her in Roman's arms. My head began to throb incessantly. “Um…” I was unsure of what to say, unsure of what I had just walked into. Roman visibly tensed up at the sight of me, taking an immediate step back and holding Bertha at arm's length. He cleared his throat, his expression cloudy as he looked at me. “Is this…” My throat felt dry, “Why you were so eager to divorce me? Because you’re…with my sister?” I hated how my voice shook when I
ROMANI made my way down the stairs with confusing emotions. Amelia just agreed to divorce me. The same Amelia who spent the past three years of our marriage trying to dissuade the topic as much as she could. The same Amelia who had threatened me that she would take her own life if I left her. The last time she walked into Bertha and I kissing, she cried for days, she ended up hospitalized, not that I ever bothered to check her, I never cared. Today she looked on like it was a joke. She seemed irritated, not hurt. My fingers unconsciously reached up to my chest, unable to fathom why my heart felt so tight, why the reality of her acceptance didn’t sink in. Probably because I spent too long thinking she’d never free me, now she has. Once we get back home, she’ll really sign the papers. “Roman!” my father called out, laughing heartily as he held a hand out for me. His aged eyes crinkled at the sides with false fatherly affection as he urged me closer, pulling me out fro
AMELIAI spent the first fifteen years of my life, as a naïve, only child with a strict father and a mother who loved me fervently. She was an only child, an orphan, so once she died all I had left was my father…and then Bertha and Monica came into the picture or rather, they’ve been in the picture longer than I’d lived. Bertha was born a year before I was. When my mother was still married to him. After my mother died, Hector Grayson's strictness morphed into hatred…he never gave a reason, he just switched overnight after her death. Since then, I’ve lived with my family like one without a family. I’ve vied for his love and attention, for his trust, his pride and all I’ve ever gotten was beatings. And the constant reminder that I am below Bertha. Why did I stay? Why did I live that way? My eyes snapped open and I was instantly aware of my surroundings. The smell of disinfectant and bleached floors flooded my senses, rousing me from what seemed to be the deepest sleep I’
AMELIAOur walk back to the car was rather awkward for me. After signing my discharge papers and footing the necessary bills, Roman never let go of my hand, despite the shocked looks on everyone’s faces. We bade them goodbye and then he let go once we were in at the parking lot and out of sight. I opened the front door and sat right next to the driver seat, surprisingly he didn’t call a driver but instead brought out the key and started the vehicle. He was so quiet that it unnerved me and I began to wonder what I could say to start a conversation. His expression was dark, most of the emotions in his eyes were indecipherable and I felt too sick to even try and understand the man. But still. The memory of the warmth of his strong, callused fingers still lingered. And I found my gaze drifting in his direction a few times. “I…” I cleared my throat, looking away and watched the passing city lights, “I am sorry about kissing you,” I apologized, my cheeks heated up from say
AMELIAPoisoned? I wasn’t sure how long I stood by the phone, even after the call had ended. Jessica had told me to be cautious, those were her parting words that only served to make me feel worse. The phone was still in my grasp, though the call had ended and I could feel my hands trembling. Poisoned? Does that mean…I have someone who hates me so much they want me dead? Who would do something so cruel? And…will it happen again? “Mrs. Wellington?” I heard Trenton call out from behind me, startling ne back to the present. To say I was shaken would be an understatement. I knew I wasn’t loved by anyone…but this…someone intentionally caused my amnesia or rather, they wanted to kill me. “Trenton…” I looked up at his aged face with watery eyes, “How did I end up here?” How did he end up here with me? His tired expression softened and he held my shoulder, “You need rest, it has been an eventful day,” he said. The words weighed heavily on my tongue, I contemplated
AMELIAI stared long and hard at the divorce papers, even after they brought up my breakfast. It might’ve been an excuse on my end to leave the food untouched. Though Roman had reassured me that it would be tasted and that nothing would happen, all that was just because he wanted my signature. How sure am I that he isn’t the one who poisoned me. That idea scared me more than an unknown person doing it. “No, Amelia…soon you’ll be far away, none of this will matter!” I muttered to myself. I will leave everything behind as soon as I have my feet planted properly. I will live the life I choose for myself. With a resigned sigh, I picked up the papers and made my way down stairs. I wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until I looked out the window and saw the moon was almost up. I reached the living room with the papers in hand but there was no sign of Roman. Does he have a study somewhere? Just then, Trenton and a maid walked out of the kitchen, Trenton gave her or
ROMANI couldn’t understand why my moon soured the longer I watched them speak to each other. They’d completely forgotten about my existence, engrossed in a conversation I couldn’t keep up with. Amelia kept smiling at every he said and Pierce, the bastard kept talking. “We should definitely exchange numbers,” She said in a light hearted voice, a tone she’s never used with me. “I would love for us to meet up and talk more about your gallery” Amelia added with a grin. Her entire face lit up and I couldn’t look away. Her green orbs looked brighter and I wasn’t aware of the little dimple under her eye when she smiled this wide. All because of him. Vincent Pierce has been my neighbor since I’ve been a resident here, he also owns a gallery and restaurant in the heart of the city. The man and I have only spoken once to each other but to think he knew Amelia. “Thank you for coming,” I said coldly, cutting short their unending conversation. His eyes narrowed, his lips parted l