Her Empire, His Terms.

Amelia's pov

"Get up, Amelia. Someone paid your bail. You are free to go."

Those words changed my life in a second.

For three long years, I rotted in prison on the outskirts of Johannesburg, paying for a crime I didn’t commit while the rest of the world moved on.

Now I was finally back in my hometown. I took a deep breath of the cool evening air, inhaling and savouring the scent of freedom.

As the taxi pulled up to the gates of the estate my father, Quinn, had built from the ground up, my heart hammered against my ribs.

Qunnix Innovations had been his life’s work, and as his only daughter, it was supposed to be my legacy but when his heart failed him four years ago, I was left entirely alone.

Or so I thought, until Dean Emiliano walked into my life.

Dean had been a bartender at a high end lounge downtown when we met. He was drop dead gorgeous, dark hair chiseled jaw, blue eyes, and a smooth, attentive charm that made me feel like the center of the universe when I was drowning in grief.

He crawled his way into my life, wrapping himself around my vulnerabilities. He seduced me, made me feel safe, and within months, I was pregnant. We married in a whirlwind, and I thought I had found my savior.

Then came the business trip to South Africa.

The sudden arrest at the airport.

The planted contraband in my luggage.

The corrupt officials who refused to listen.

For three agonizing years, my only survival mechanism was the thought of getting back to my husband and our baby boy, Leo.

"That'll be forty-five dollars, ma'am." The taxi driver cleared his throat, breaking my trance

I handed him the crisp bills I had acquired at the airport exchange and stepped out into the driveway staring at my colonial style mansion that still looked exactly the same.

I didn't use the front door key wanting to surprise him. I wanted to see Dean's face when he realized his wife had survived.

I slipped through the side door. The scanner recognized my thumbprint with a quiet beep.

The house was dead quiet as I walked up the grand stairs, my heart pounding with excitement.

Then, I heard soft jazz music coming from the master bedroom.

I smiled knowing Dean always listened to jazz when he was relaxing.

I reached the double doors of the bedroom, which were slightly open and placed my hand on the brass handle, pushing it open with a whisper.

"Oh, God, Dean... right there, I love you Dean, You're so good," a voice gasped.

Instantly the smile died on my face recognising that voice.

I pushed the door fully open and the scene before me shattered my reality into a million pieces.

There, tangled in the sheets of my bed, was Dean. His muscular back was gleaming with sweat, his fingers gripped tightly into the blonde hair of the woman beneath him.

The woman was Natalie. My cousin and my best friend.

"Dean, please," Natalie moaned, her eyes tightly shut, a look of pure ecstasy on her face.

I couldn't move. My feet were cemented to the floor. The air was violently sucked out of my lungs, leaving me suffocating in the doorway of my own bedroom.

Dean groaned, burying his face in her neck. "You're so much better than she ever was, Nat."

A choked, strangled sob escaped my throat breaking his moment.

Dean froze instantly and Natalie’s eyes snapped open, looking past his shoulder straight at me.

For a fraction of a second, horror flashed across her face but it was gone so fast I thought I imagined it.

Dean slowly turned around, pulling the duvet up to cover his waist.

When his eyes met mine, he didn't look terrified or remorseful.

He looked... annoyed.

Like a man whose afternoon nap had been interrupted by a persistent salesman.

"Amelia," he said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "You're back."

"Amelia?" Natalie gasped, though the theatricality of it was sickeningly fake. "Oh my god, we thought you were dead!"

"Get out," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips before exploding into a scream. "GET OUT! BOTH OF YOU, GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Dean sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose casually leaning back against the headboard, crossing his arms. "Amelia, lower your voice. You're going to wake up the house staff."

"The house staff?!" I stormed into the room, tears finally spilling down my cheeks.

My hands were shaking so violently I could barely control them. "You are sleeping with my cousin! In my bed! While I was rotting in a foreign prison! How could you do this to me, Dean? I loved you! We have a son!"

Natalie crawled out from under the sheets, wrapped a silk robe, my silk robe around her shoulders, and tied it securely.

She stepped off the bed and walked over to the mirror, picking up a hairbrush as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"Look at you, Amelia," Natalie said, looking at my reflection in the mirror with pure disdain. "You look pathetic. That prison jumpsuit really did a number on your skin."

"Natalie, shut up," I hissed, turning my wrath toward her. "You're my family. I trusted you with everything. I took care of you when your parents cut you off!"

"Oh, please," Natalie laughed. "You took care of me like I was a charity case. 'Poor little Natalie, let's give her a job at Qunnix, let's buy her a car.' I hated every single second of your pity."

I turned back to Dean, my chest heaving. "I'm divorcing you. Do you hear me? I am taking everything. I am taking Qunnix, I am taking this house, and I am taking my son. You came from nothing, Dean. You were wiping down greasy counters when I found you, and I will make damn sure you go back to exactly where you belong. You won't get a single dime."

Dean let out a low, dark chuckle that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

He swung his legs out of bed, pulling on a pair of silk lounge pants and walked over to me, towering over me.

"Divorce me?" Dean murmured, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "With what lawyer, Amelia? With what money?"

"I am the sole heir to Qunnix Innovations!" I yelled. "My father left it to me!"

"Your father left it to a living daughter," Dean corrected smoothly. He walked over to a desk in the corner of the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick legal document, tossing it carelessly onto the bed.

"Two years ago, after a very lengthy and tragic disappearance in South Africa, the courts officially declared you deceased. Do you know what happens to a dead woman's estate, Amelia? It passes entirely to her surviving spouse."

I stared at him, my mind spinning out of control. "What?"

"Every share of Qunnix, every bank account, this house, the cars... they all belong to me now," Dean said, his voice dripping with malice. "Legally, you don't exist. You're a ghost. And ghosts can't file for divorce."

"No... no, that's impossible. I'm standing right here! The embassy—"

"The embassy thinks you died of a violent fever in that prison, thanks to a very expensive medical report we procured," Natalie chimed in, leaning against the Mirror with her arms crossed. "You really underestimate how far a little bit of Qunnix money can go in developing nations, cousin."

The room felt like it was spinning. "The prison... the drugs in my bag... it was you."

The horrifying puzzle pieces were suddenly locking into place. "You set me up."

"Give the girl a prize," Dean mocked, clapping his hands softly. "Honestly, it was almost too easy. You were so desperate for love after your dad died. All I had to do was pour you a few drinks, listen to you whine about your loneliness, Flash a pretty smile and boom, I was in. Getting you pregnant was just the insurance policy."

"You monster," I whispered, the sheer weight of his betrayal crushing the breath out of me. "Our son... where is Leo? Let me see my son!"

"You're not seeing him," Dean said coldly, his eyes turning to flint. "I have sole, undisputed legal custody of Leo. To him, his mother is dead. If you so much as step foot near his school, or try to contact him, I'll have you arrested for stalking and trespassing. And let's be honest, who is the police going to believe? A prominent, grieving CEO and philanthropist, or a crazed, trespassing felon who looks like she crawled out of a ditch pretending to be someone everyone believes is dead?"

"Besides even If you convinced everyone you're in fact Amelia Quinn. It doesn't change the fact you're a convicted felon, no judge would release the custody of a child to an ex criminal." Natalia added smiling devilshly.

I looked at Natalie, desperation overriding my pride. "Natalie, please. He's my baby. You're my sister, practically. How could you let him do this?"

Natalie walked closer to me, her eyes flashing with a deep seated hatred. "Let him? Amelia, you idiot. I didn't let him do anything. I planned it."

I choked on a breath. "What?"

"I knew Dean long before he ever served you a drink," Natalie whispered, her face inches from mine and I could smell my own expensive perfume on her skin.

"We were sleeping together when he was still working at that dive bar. I told him exactly what to say to you. I told him your favorite flowers. I told him how much you missed your father. I handed him the blueprint to your heart, and he executed it perfectly."

She took a step back, wrapping her arms around Dean's waist from behind, resting her chin on his bare shoulder.

They looked like a picture perfect couple. A pair of beautiful, venomous predators.

"You had everything, Amelia," Natalie hissed. "The perfect father, the perfect brains, the perfect inheritance. I wanted to see what it felt like to take it all away. And look at us now. I have your company, I have your money, I have your son... and I have your husband."

Dean reached up running his fingers through Natalie's blonde hair, his eyes locked on mine. "It's time for you to leave, Amelia. Before I call security."

My body shook with an overwhelming grief, heartbreak, and a sudden, burning rage.

I looked at the man I had given my soul to. I looked at the cousin I had loved like a sister.

They had stolen my life, my father's legacy, and my beautiful baby boy.

"You think you've won," I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper that made Natalie's smile falter just a fraction. "You think because you buried me in a cell thousands of miles away, I'm going to stay dead."

I took a step backward toward the door, my eyes boring into both of them.

"Enjoy my bed, Dean. Enjoy my money, Natalie," I said, a dangerous, calm smile spreading across my lips. "Because I am going to take back every single thing you stole from me and when I'm done, you'll wish you had killed me instead."