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AMELIAEverything else that came after meeting with Roman in front of the room was hazy. I knew he had led me to bed, my eyes heavy with as I kept telling him to promise. All I could think about was the fact that if he owned Grayson, I wouldn't have to give my shares to Bertha. It would be better if he owned everything…it would be so much better. Then I could buy my mother's gallery, before Hector Grayson would do anything foolish like stay true to his threats. My mind was a swirl of countless thoughts as I tried to convince myself that it would be okay. Roman had promised me. “Rome?” The memory pushed itself past whatever barrier my mind had held up, seeping through the cracks. I was in an apartment. Aching all over, I was recovering from an injury…a few. And…Roman was seated opposite me, hair blond, eyes bluer than ever, familiar and softer than I'd ever seen them. He looked younger but his eyes were strange, there was a certain edge to them. He screamed danger even fr
A FEW YEARS AGO… The final bell rang, its shrill tone echoing through the halls of the community high school. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that another day of social navigation was finally over. As I made my way through the crowded corridors, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the ease with which my classmates interacted. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but I felt like I was encased in a bubble, separated from it all. I've never been good at the whole "making friends" thing. It's not that I don't want to connect with people, it's just that I struggle with the unwritten rules of social interaction. Small talk feels pointless, and I can't bring myself to feign interest in topics I find mind-numbingly dull. My bluntness, which I consider honesty, often comes across as rudeness to others. It was easier to keep to myself than to constantly worry about saying the wrong thing. As I pushed open the heavy front doors of the school, I let out a sigh of relief,
BERTHAThere are two types of people in this world. There are the people who think there's a difference between good and bad and then those who know that there is no such thing. The world isn't black and white. It is a whole array of colors and even murder can be justified when the perpetrator is a sweet talker. When he tells you his reasons. My mother has raised me this way, these words have resounded in me my whole life. There is no good and there is no bad. Which is why one must always take what they want in this life because the only thing that's constant is change…and it isn't often pleasing. I looked down at the share-transfer document with a wide grin on my face. This is something I've wanted ever since I found out who my father was. I have wanted to be his heir, wanted to be the one in power but…Amelia had to come and take everything that belonged to me away. Except now, I was finally getting it all back. I would finally be able to sit with the shareholders. T
Sure, I had to find a way to have Roman wrapped around my fingers. No man could resist a woman who is always seemingly weak and had tears in her eyes. Roman ate that shit up just as I wanted him to. But something changed. Or maybe it has been there this entire time but I chose to ignore it…until Amelia reverted back to that noisy bitch who couldn't keep her mouth shut. And now…I stand at the brink of losing Roman. I watched in shock and slight panic as he refused to meet my eyes after that short, stiff greeting. I could feel my mother's questioning and no doubt satisfied stare on the side of my face and my cheeks heated up in embarrassment. I knew my mother better than anyone, she probably saw this as an opportunity. She never really cared if Roman stayed with me or not. She just wants a reason to keep him close. But Roman won't fall for a shriveled up bitch like her! Same way he simply cannot fall for that idiot, Amelia! My father opened the door, a look
“Roman!” I screeched, my voice nearing hysteria. I watched as his back stiffened up as he made his way to his car, he stopped in his tracks, turning around slowly to finally face me. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes cold, almost empty as he met my eyes. “Roman…” I breathed, realizing I couldn't just yell at him with that expression on his face. He looked rather annoyed by my presence. It had never been like that. Never. Has he truly…moved on from me? “Is that really all you came here to say? To defend Amelia, to threaten my father because of her?!” He inhaled deeply, audibly and then ran his fingers through his soft brown hair. “Bertha…I have nothing else to say,” I gasped, “Not even to me?” His brows furrowed deeply, “No, I have nothing to say to you,” He stated firmly, a chill glazing over his features making me take a subconscious step back. I forced my tears to show as I looked up at him…I knew he couldn't resist that. “Is this truly how
AMELIA“Trenton, hi!” I smiled as I walked into the living room, he was the first person I found and behind him was Vincent. His handsome face was bright with a smile the second he spotted me. “Hey, Vincent,” I greeted. “Miss Amelia,” “Amelia,” I couldn't help but notice it was a rather odd combination seeing these two men in one place, sharing a drink no less. Trenton had sent Fiona to call me down while I was in the bathroom and I told them to give me a few minutes. I might've spent more time than necessary in that bathroom trying to get my thoughts in order. Trying to fathom just how easily Roman had agreed to help me. I had thought he would say I should give in to their demands, tell me it's for the best. Instead… I was beginning to see the appeal. If a man can be that protective of me…that nice… I had to ask him about those memories, I had to know if they were dreams or reality. “Miss Amelia?” “Huh?” I blinked, raising my head to meet their e
“I um…have you…had breakfast?” Roman watched me for what seemed to be an eternity. The look in his eyes was intense, I found myself rooted to the spot as we gazed into each other's eyes. He shook his head slowly after the long silence stretched, uncomfortably so. I had many questions, many. And I wasn't sure where to begin or how to act around him. “Would you like to have some?” “No, I'm not hungry,” He replied, a faint frown creasing the space between his brows. “Oh…” What does one say to that? I cleared my throat and laughed awkwardly, running my fingers through my bob. Well, not much of a bob at this point, I needed to go to a salon. Maybe today…get a trim, get my mind off things. “Right…did you,” I looked at the ceiling for a second, unsure of how to pose the question, “Did you speak to him?” There was a glint of realization in his eyes, he gave me a small smile and made his way to the sofa. Plopping down on it with a heavy sigh. “I did, you have nothing
GREECEMy mother has always had an issue with everything and everyone. She wants everything to be be the way she wants, yet her own definition of perfection and what is right is so flawed, I am a bit ashamed it took me twenty years of living with her to realize it. “Greece! Did you even hear a word I said?!” She snapped, eyes glowering with fury. She didn't scare me, at least not as much as before because the harshness in her gone still made me flinch and nod shaking, taking a hold of the bags she'd handed to me. My mother had attendants and many assistants she could ask to do such menial labor, but she always picked me for it. Because I was the mistake child who always has to have a use to her rather than remind her of the ‘damage’ I caused to her body. And mental health. We were at a shopping mall, scrolling around with her bitchy friends who all kissed her ass like they were addicted to shit. Telling her everything she picked, wore, spoke was right, beautiful, graceful.
AMELIAThe hours crawled by with excruciating slowness. Jessica and I sat in the living room, remnants of our lunch spread across the coffee table, neither of us having much appetite. The black car hadn't returned, but I kept glancing out the window anyway, expecting—or dreading—to see it again.I knew something was going on, deep down I knew that the little peace we'd managed to enjoy these past few weeks was already over. I knew it the second I woke up in that hospital. I knew it the second I was told I lost my baby. "You should try to eat something," Jessica said, pushing a container of pasta toward me, looking rather cautious. She's been that way for a while, like she's unsure of what to say, scared that a word might trigger me or something like that. I shook my head. "I can't. My stomach's in knots." I admitted with full honesty. My heart felt heavy and there was the sense of impending doom that I kept trying to push down. Roman and I were…not okay, that much I knew. Eating a
The argument replayed in my mind like a broken record, each harsh word cutting deeper with each repetition. ‘All you see is your own pain.’ The accusation stung particularly sharp because it was untrue. I'd spent weeks trying to understand Roman's pain, making excuses for his absence, convincing myself that his distance was just his way of coping. And now he had the audacity to throw that in my face? That son of a– My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I could call Jessica, or Alexander—they'd be here in minutes. But what would I say? That my husband, the man who'd been my rock through everything, had just revealed a side of himself I'd never seen before? That he was keeping secrets about who had poisoned me? Instead, I did something I hadn't dared since being discharged; I walked upstairs to the nursery door. My hand trembled as it touched the doorknob. We'd painted it white just two weeks ago, discussing whether we should add some kind of decorative element. Roman had wanted to pai
AMELIAHome was supposed to feel like a sanctuary. Instead, the walls seemed to close in around me, each room holding memories that felt more like wounds. The nursery door remained firmly shut—neither of us had the courage to face what lay behind it.I for one knew that I would break down into tiny pieces if I saw what was behind that door. I had already given instructions for the room to be emptied, without my knowledge, of course. I didn't want to see them. The crib. The stuffed animals, the onesies. Fiona had left or rather…fired. I had a feeling she had something to do with the poisoning seeing as Roman was being kind of secretive about why she left or why he fired her. He never really gave me a straight answer, not even when he hired an older woman to fill in as both housekeeper and maid for the meantime. Roman had been adamant about me staying home. "You need to rest," he'd say, his tone leaving no room for argument. But rest felt impossible when my mind wouldn't stop spinnin
The night air was cool against my skin as I stepped out of the hospital, fishing my phone out of my purse to order another Uber. The parking lot was mostly empty, illuminated by scattered streetlights that created pools of yellow light in the darkness. The sound of rapid footsteps behind me made my heart jump, but before I could turn around, I heard his voice."Greece!"Just one word. My name. But the way Colson said it made something inside me twist. I turned to find him slightly out of breath, as if he'd run to catch up with me. The sight of him – powerful, composed Colson – actually running after someone was so unexpected that for a moment, I could only stare."What are you doing here?" I asked, hating how my voice betrayed my awareness of him. Even in the dim light, he was devastating – the shadows playing across his features only emphasized the sharp angles of his face, the intensity of his gaze."It's too dark for you to be out alone," he said, his tone still carrying that profe
GREECE“Why…” I inhaled deeply, “...are you here?” I asked softly. I didn't know he was back from Mexico. But then again, we haven't kept any contact since I left. He couldn't be here for me, right? "Wellington Corp has a meeting with the university board today," Colson said, his voice carrying that familiar professional tone that I'd almost forgotten existed. "With Roman at the hospital with Amelia, I'm handling the meeting with the dean."The words hit me like a splash of cold water, washing away whatever foolish notions I'd been entertaining. Of course. He wasn't here for me. He was here for business, just like always. The realization stung more than it should have, but I refused to let it show on my face."It's nice to see you again," I managed to say, proud of how steady my voice sounded despite the chaos in my chest. But even as I spoke, my traitorous eyes kept drifting to his lips, remembering how they'd felt against mine that night in Mexico. The warmth, the intensity, the
GREECEThe lecture hall felt suffocating despite its size. Professor Williams droned on about corporate law, but my mind was elsewhere, wandering back to memories of Mexico City – memories I couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard I tried. It had been a month since I'd returned, since Colson had practically forced me onto that plane, and yet everything still felt fresh. Raw.The scent of his cologne. The intensity of his gaze. The way his hands felt when they caught me from falling. The almost-kiss on the balcony that still haunted my dreams."Miss Stavros?" Professor Williams's voice cut through my reverie. "Care to share your thoughts on the Jensen case?"I straightened in my seat, forcing myself to focus on the present. "The Jensen case highlighted the importance of fiduciary duty in corporate governance," I began, drawing on whatever information I could remember from last night's reading. "The board's decision to..."As I continued my response, I couldn't help but notice how dif
The days that followed blurred together like watercolors in the rain. I felt disconnected from my body, as if I were floating somewhere above myself, tethered only by the thinnest of threads to the physical world below. The hospital room became my entire universe—a bubble where time moved differently, where every breath felt like an effort against the crushing weight of loss.I used to think I was a strong person, I used to think if I could have survived this far, after everything…then I could handle anything. But this? This pain? It was something I wouldn't wish even my worst enemy. Jessica was my constant companion, her presence both comforting and guilt-inducing. She'd pull up a chair beside my bed, her white coat wrinkled from long hours, dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion."You need to get back to work," I told her one afternoon, my voice still carrying that hollow quality I couldn't seem to shake. "Your patients need you more than I do."She looked up from h
AMELIADarkness. Unrelenting. Suffocating.The memory crashed over me like a violent wave, fragmentary and disjointed. Marcus. The name itself was a razor blade against my consciousness, cutting through the soft, sedated edges of my hospital room's tranquility.I could see him—not his face, never his complete face—but his presence. Overwhelming. Menacing. A shadow that had stalked me longer than I could comprehend. His voice was a low, calculated whisper that seemed to echo through the chambers of my most terrifying memories. "Finally," he had said. "Finally, I have you."I remember being so afraid that I couldn't speak, every time he walked into a room, every time he told me about his love for me…how many times he's watched me, how many times he's just been in the shadows…looking, seeing everything and anything that has happened to me, even times I had forgotten. Flashes of my previous attempts to escape flickered like a damaged film reel. The sharp object I'd used against him—som
AMELIAThe silence was almost like a living, breathing entity. It wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket, pressing against my chest, making each breath feel like a monumental effort. My body felt alien—a vessel that had somehow failed its most fundamental purpose. The white hospital walls seemed to close in, choking me yet at the same time those white walls managed to keep me calm despite the screams and wails I could hear in my head.Or perhaps it was just me, still recovering from the shock. Roman's voice broke through my fog, soft and tentative. "Do you need anything, Amy? Water? Another blanket?" His words were gentle, carefully constructed, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile composure I was desperately trying to maintain.I turned my head slowly, mechanically, meeting his gaze. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and though I never saw it was obvious that he had cried. A concept that I'd never really associated with Roman up until that very moment.