Amelia
“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, Amelia. Do you realize how much this could boost your career?”, Dr. Marks leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk like he had all the time in the world.
I did not. What I saw was the flashing neon sign of regret associated with Ethan Steele's work.
“No, I'm not listening," I stated decidedly as I grabbed my tote bag. “Let’s be honest, I care about my peace of mind and from what I’ve been told, Ethan Steele doesn't come across as a piece of cake to find serenity.”
I knew I should have sent him over to someone else the moment Estelle told me she'd be transferring her patients to me, since she was resigning, but I hadn't.
I thought I could handle it. Handle him…And I was wrong. I dreaded our sessions more than I dreaded working overtime.
Dr. Marks sighed, his eyes narrowing in that patronizing way senior doctors often did when they felt superior. “Amelia, Ethan Steele isn’t just any patient. He’s the Ethan Steele. If you succeed with him, the doors it could open—”
A scoff escaped my lips. The only doors that could open were the doors of my office, ushering him out after each session.
“I’m not here for doors”. I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m here to help people heal, not babysit some billionaire who’s too proud to put in the work.”
“He’s not your typical case, " Dr. Marks pressed, sitting forward. “You’re the best physical therapist we have after Estelle. If anyone can handle him, it’s you.”
Handle him. As if I didn't have enough to do. Between juggling demanding clients, my clinic responsibilities, and my mother’s mounting medical bills, taking on a high profile case like Ethan Steele’s felt like asking for trouble.
“Find someone else,” I said, standing. “I can’t do this.”
The elevator ride down to the clinic’s lobby felt suffocating.
My cell phone rang inside my bag, but I did nothing about it.
Probably just another prompt about late payments or calls I just did not have the energy to respond to.
As I stepped outside, the brisk air snapped at my face. The walk to my apartment was only ten minutes, but I could already feel the weight of the day pressing down.
Just the idea of sitting in my dingy one bedroom apartment and wrestling with another pile of medical chill out sheets sent me spiraling.
When I finally unlocked the door, the dimly lit apartment did nothing to raise my spirits. It looked just as gloomy as I felt.
My mother’s hospital room wasn’t much better, but at least there, I had her soft voice and the smell of lavender lotion to ground me.
Here, it was just... emptiness.
The pile of unopened mail on the counter taunted me. Grabbing the top envelope, I tore it open. As expected, it was another hospital bill.
Total due: $12,473.21
I dropped the paper, my stomach knotting. I’d been managing to scrape by with my savings and freelance gigs, but this? This was impossible.
Before I could keep beating myself up about it, my phone buzzed back one more time. I grabbed it from the counter with the intention of terminating whoever was on the other side, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I read the name.
Jared Marshall.
Just hearing the name was enough to cause my chest to constrict.
Jared was the right hand man of Ethan Steele, with an unsentimental and uncompromising style. He had a cold and calculating demeanor but was a nice guy overall.
But that wasn't why I froze.
I'd met Jared before. Briefly. At an industry gala over a year and a half ago.
Back then, I'd been a nervous wreck, a new employee eager to please and practically dragging myself through the evening, counting down the minutes until I could leave.
I hadn't expected anyone to notice me, let alone strike up a conversation.
But Jared had.
That night, I had no idea who he was or he was working for, I was too nervous to ask.
We'd ended up at the same bar, both desperate for an escape from the crowd.
He'd ordered whiskey, neat, and offered to buy me a drink. I'd refused at first, but then he told me to relax, and somehow, we'd ended up talking.
About everything and about nothing.
I closed my eyes as I remembered how his sharp, cold demeanor had thawed just a little by the time we clinked glasses.
How his eyes had locked almost too intently on mine, as if I was the only person present. It made me feel like I could do anything.
But then nothing had happened between us, because before it could, he was called away.
A couple months later, I saw him on the news, standing next to Ethan Steele, the arrogant yet most coveted bachelor and billionaire in the city.
I had been relieved nothing had happened between Jared and I after seeing that.
Against my better judgment, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Miss Blake," Jared, with a deep, commanding sound, on the phone. “I trust you’ve heard about Ethan Steele’s condition?”
“Wow you're still cold…”
There was a pause at the other end, and I could tell he was smiling. He rarely smiled, but that night, he'd smiled…
Even laughed.
“And you're no longer nervous. Very sharp tongue.” He retorted, his voice still firm but less formal.
I smiled. “Much better…now…”
“You have to say yes.” Jared cut in.
I groaned inwardly. “I’ve heard enough. If this is to take him up as a client, I already turned down the offer and the answer is no.”
There was a break and then Jared spoke and my heart skipped a beat. “What if I told you there was more at stake here than just a therapy contract?”
I hesitated. “I’m not interested in publicity stunts.”
“This isn’t a stunt,” Jared said evenly. “This is about preserving Ethan’s legacy. The board is circling like vultures, and if Ethan doesn’t show progress soon, he’ll lose everything he’s built. That’s why we need you.”
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, but I wasn’t ready to relent. “Why me? Surely you can afford the best therapists in the world.”
“We already have the best therapist in the world, " Jared said smoothly. “And she’s the one I’m speaking to.”
Flattery wasn’t going to work on me. “I appreciate the compliment, but I have personal obligations. I am not able to handle this kind of case right now.”
I didn't tell him what I really felt. That I didn't want to deal with Ethan. Estelle stories about him were all I wanted them to be. Stories.
“I understand your hesitation,” Jared said, his voice softening. What if I showed you how to eliminate all of your financial troubles in a single stroke?”
My grip tightened on the phone. “What are you talking about?”
“A contract,” he said. One that carries with it full payment of your mother's medical debt, plus bonuses. The only catch is that it involves more than therapy.”
I frowned, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”
Something was up.
“You’d have to marry Ethan.”
The words hit me like a freight train. For a moment, I was sure I’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
Then I threw my head back and laughed. This was a joke.
Has everyone gone mad today?
“It's a publicity stunt", Jared said, as if asking to marry a stranger was a perfectly good call. “The board needs to see Ethan as stable and rehabilitating. A wife would make him appear grounded, and your reputation would assure them he’s in the best hands.”
“This is insane,” I muttered, pacing my tiny kitchen. “You think I’m going to marry someone I’ve never met, let alone someone like Ethan Steele?”
“You wouldn’t be marrying him in the traditional sense,_ Jared said. “It’s a business arrangement. “You would live with him, care for him, and pretend to be a couple in good spirits. Once the situation stabilizes, you’re free to leave.”
I did want to giggle, but nothing was funny about any of this. “And what if I say no?”
How did I go from being a therapist to a wife?
There was a long silence before Jared spoke, "Well I hope you are ready to watch your mother's condition get worse while you wait for a miracle to make those payments.”
I froze. This was no longer funny. Who did he think he was?How dare he weaponize my mother’s health against me?
“How dare you? No. No way. I will not do it!” I heard myself yell.
“You have 24 hours to decide. Please think carefully about your decision” Jared said. “Consider what this has the potential to do for you, your mother, and your career.”
“Now, look here. You can tell Ethan Steele that—”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, doing my best to control the way my hands were shaking with anger. This couldn’t be real.
However, the pile of money on my counter begged to differ. It was real, and somehow I had a chance to clear all these debts and finally be free.
I had a chance to save my mother.
Clutching the silver necklace on my chest, I sank into a chair.
This was nuts. Everyone was nuts. Marry Ethan Steele? Live under the same roof as a crippled man known for his temper and arrogance?
I couldn't do it.
Yet, the alternative was even grimmer. It was either that or sink into the ground with debts, or probably lose my mother.
I swallowed hard, tears stinging
my eyes. How has my life come to this? Why was everything suddenly so hard?
Jared said I had a choice, but that was a lie.
I had no choice.
It was either this or death
Ethan“Are you asking me to thank you for this brilliant suggestion, Jared?” My voice sliced through the quiet of the study like a knife.Jared stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, exuding his usual air of calm efficiency. And somehow that irritated me even more. “I expect you to consider it, Ethan. Your employment at Steele Industries is in jeopardy. The easiest way to shut a board shut is to hang a stable, domestic picture over it.”“Those unfaithful bastards. After everything I have done for them. This is how they repay me?”I hit the fingers against the leather side of my wheelchair armrest, eyes fixed on the papers on top of the mahogany desk before me. Marriage. Therapy. An engineered fairytale to placate the mockeries that surrounded my kingdom.“She’s a therapist,” I said more to myself than Jared. Estelle had told me about the freelance therapist that they'd hired on a contract, whom she'd be transferring me to, right after she told me about her resi
Amelia“It's huge," I mumbled to myself as I got out of the black SUV that had just dropped me off at Ethan Steele's home.But then again, what was I expecting? The man was a billionaire.The driver, a tall, salt and peppered haired guy, had kept himself mostly to himself throughout the trip. Jared had offered to make me, but I had turned the offer down, so Ethan had sent his personal driver.“Yes it is." he kept the door open with a blank expression as I looked at the impressive element standing before me.The mansion was a modern fortress, all sharp lines and dark glass. It exuded wealth and power, much like the man who owned it. But despite its grandeur, it felt... cold. Lifeless.“Welcome to the Steele residence, madam," the driver said, his tone courteous yet impersonal.I swallowed hard, clutching the handle of my suitcase. “Thanks,” I replied, trying to sound confident.When I went through the door, the temperature in the room became even more frigid. The interior was sleek a
EthanThe morning light filtered through the floor to ceiling windows, casting soft, golden streaks across the walls. My body felt heavier than usual, the familiar ache in my legs, those useless, lifeless limbs was a dull reminder of everything I’d lost.My headache, and for just a second I forgot why. The train wreck of memories from last night came rushing at me and I frowned. The nightmares. The thrashing. The whispered voice.Amelia. She'd been here last night.I swung around and there she was, seated in a chair by the side of my bed. Her legs were crossed, and her arms were flat against her thighs, her fingertips absentmindedly batting against the edge of her blouse.Her hair, the soft chestnut brown with hints of auburn was pulled into a low ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and yet her high cheekbones and wide, almond shaped eyes made her look effortlessly composed. She had that understated look of beauty that stopped ordinary wome
Amelia“You’re not even trying,” I complained, folding my arms across my chest as I stood a few feet away from Ethan in his private gym.State-of-the-art equipment remained there, shining in the fluorescent lights, clean and unworn. Ethan sat in his wheelchair, glaring at me like I’d just insulted his very existence. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, burned with barely restrained irritation.“Trying won’t change the fact that my legs don’t work, " he bit out, his deep baritone voice laced with anger.His jaw tensed, and the scar on his temple, partially concealed by a neat, jetblack hairline, appeared to be visible as he tensed.I held my breath, not letting my anger and frustration get out. Why was everything hard with this man? We've been at this for an hour now.“This isn’t about whether your legs work right now. It’s about building strength, even if it’s incremental. Progress starts somewhere, Ethan.”He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that brought joy. It was bitt
EthanThe boardroom was stifling, and it felt like going to the hangman.I wheeled myself to the head of the table, forcing myself to sit taller, to exude the power that my body no longer carried. The polished mahogany table mirrored the faces on the board members' chair who stared at me and Veronica in the manner of vultures circling a wounded animal.Fuck this. I cursed under my breath. Veronica sat smugly near the other end, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the table. She wore a sharp crimson dress, the kind designed to command attention, and her green eyes gleamed with calculated malice.“Ethan”, she began, her voice syrupy sweet, “We’re all here because we care deeply about the future of Steele Enterprises. But we have to face reality, leadership requires certain... capabilities.”She glanced at my legs and smiled. I held my fists beneath the table, trying, unsuccessfully, to maintain composure. “I can't be doubted, Veronica," I told her, in a deadpan manner. X
EthanThe boardroom was stifling, and it felt like going to the hangman.I wheeled myself to the head of the table, forcing myself to sit taller, to exude the power that my body no longer carried. The polished mahogany table mirrored the faces on the board members' chair who stared at me and Veronica in the manner of vultures circling a wounded animal.Fuck this. I cursed under my breath. Veronica sat smugly near the other end, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the table. She wore a sharp crimson dress, the kind designed to command attention, and her green eyes gleamed with calculated malice.“Ethan”, she began, her voice syrupy sweet, “We’re all here because we care deeply about the future of Steele Enterprises. But we have to face reality, leadership requires certain... capabilities.”She glanced at my legs and smiled. I held my fists beneath the table, trying, unsuccessfully, to maintain composure. “I can't be doubted, Veronica," I told her, in a deadpan manner. X
Amelia“You’re not even trying,” I complained, folding my arms across my chest as I stood a few feet away from Ethan in his private gym.State-of-the-art equipment remained there, shining in the fluorescent lights, clean and unworn. Ethan sat in his wheelchair, glaring at me like I’d just insulted his very existence. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, burned with barely restrained irritation.“Trying won’t change the fact that my legs don’t work, " he bit out, his deep baritone voice laced with anger.His jaw tensed, and the scar on his temple, partially concealed by a neat, jetblack hairline, appeared to be visible as he tensed.I held my breath, not letting my anger and frustration get out. Why was everything hard with this man? We've been at this for an hour now.“This isn’t about whether your legs work right now. It’s about building strength, even if it’s incremental. Progress starts somewhere, Ethan.”He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that brought joy. It was bitt
EthanThe morning light filtered through the floor to ceiling windows, casting soft, golden streaks across the walls. My body felt heavier than usual, the familiar ache in my legs, those useless, lifeless limbs was a dull reminder of everything I’d lost.My headache, and for just a second I forgot why. The train wreck of memories from last night came rushing at me and I frowned. The nightmares. The thrashing. The whispered voice.Amelia. She'd been here last night.I swung around and there she was, seated in a chair by the side of my bed. Her legs were crossed, and her arms were flat against her thighs, her fingertips absentmindedly batting against the edge of her blouse.Her hair, the soft chestnut brown with hints of auburn was pulled into a low ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and yet her high cheekbones and wide, almond shaped eyes made her look effortlessly composed. She had that understated look of beauty that stopped ordinary wome
Amelia“It's huge," I mumbled to myself as I got out of the black SUV that had just dropped me off at Ethan Steele's home.But then again, what was I expecting? The man was a billionaire.The driver, a tall, salt and peppered haired guy, had kept himself mostly to himself throughout the trip. Jared had offered to make me, but I had turned the offer down, so Ethan had sent his personal driver.“Yes it is." he kept the door open with a blank expression as I looked at the impressive element standing before me.The mansion was a modern fortress, all sharp lines and dark glass. It exuded wealth and power, much like the man who owned it. But despite its grandeur, it felt... cold. Lifeless.“Welcome to the Steele residence, madam," the driver said, his tone courteous yet impersonal.I swallowed hard, clutching the handle of my suitcase. “Thanks,” I replied, trying to sound confident.When I went through the door, the temperature in the room became even more frigid. The interior was sleek a
Ethan“Are you asking me to thank you for this brilliant suggestion, Jared?” My voice sliced through the quiet of the study like a knife.Jared stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back, exuding his usual air of calm efficiency. And somehow that irritated me even more. “I expect you to consider it, Ethan. Your employment at Steele Industries is in jeopardy. The easiest way to shut a board shut is to hang a stable, domestic picture over it.”“Those unfaithful bastards. After everything I have done for them. This is how they repay me?”I hit the fingers against the leather side of my wheelchair armrest, eyes fixed on the papers on top of the mahogany desk before me. Marriage. Therapy. An engineered fairytale to placate the mockeries that surrounded my kingdom.“She’s a therapist,” I said more to myself than Jared. Estelle had told me about the freelance therapist that they'd hired on a contract, whom she'd be transferring me to, right after she told me about her resi
Amelia“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, Amelia. Do you realize how much this could boost your career?”, Dr. Marks leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk like he had all the time in the world.I did not. What I saw was the flashing neon sign of regret associated with Ethan Steele's work.“No, I'm not listening," I stated decidedly as I grabbed my tote bag. “Let’s be honest, I care about my peace of mind and from what I’ve been told, Ethan Steele doesn't come across as a piece of cake to find serenity.”I knew I should have sent him over to someone else the moment Estelle told me she'd be transferring her patients to me, since she was resigning, but I hadn't.I thought I could handle it. Handle him…And I was wrong. I dreaded our sessions more than I dreaded working overtime.Dr. Marks sighed, his eyes narrowing in that patronizing way senior doctors often did when they felt superior. “Amelia, Ethan Steele isn’t just any patient. He’s the Ethan Steele. If you succe