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Chapter Nine: Dinner with Nico
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2025-07-16 00:44:56
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His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Ten: The Letter
**Amelia’s POV*”The walls were too silent tonight. Even the wind outside the mansion stay still. It felt like the house itself was holding its breath.Nico hadn’t returned since he found the silver coin at the door.And I ?I have not moved either. I sat down by the fire in this cold room that now belonged to me, even though nothing here ever truly felt like mine.I needed something, anything, to keep me busy or distract me.Walking towards the closet. I saw my duffel bag. The one I had packed in a daze before I was delivered to Nico. I hadn’t unpacked it since I arrived.Opening the bag. Which contains my clothes mostly my cute pajamas, My journal, and a book I was unable to finish. Digging further. My finger grasped something. Something unexpected.I found paper.It was Folded into half. Unmarked.Pulling it out slowly. It’s a single sheet.The handwriting. Very familiar. I’d stared at it on forgotten birthday cards, on bank papers signed with haste. My father’s hand writing, nea
His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Nine: Dinner with Nico
**Amelia's POV**The air had not moved. It weighed strongly on my skin, thick like mist denying to rise.The room echo Nico's remarks."Then I'll remind him why he stayed dead."After that statement earlier, Nico hadn't spoken much.He departed the room silently and vanished into shadows that appeared to lengthen every time he strolled through them.Barely breathing, I sat at the corner of my bed in my room, wondering if I had erred by telling him all.Still, I didn't have much time to think about everything.A knock made me jump.Opening the door slowly, I expected a command. a directive. Or possibly more questions.Rather, I saw a man in a crisp black suit. Matteo, one of Nico's men. Standing by the door.He spoke."Nico wants you to come downstairs for dinner."I paused. "What?" Surprise washing over me.“And it's a formal dinner. And He said not to make him wait.”He then turned away without even looking back to see if I would follow.I put on a simple dress, navy, sleeved, plain.
His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Eight: His Brother
**Amelia's POV**Every stride I made along the twisting stone path felt as though I were dragging my soul.The fog hung low, dense as smoke from something wicked. Like a forewarning I couldn't get off, it hung onto the home, my skin, my thoughts. I found it difficult to breathe. Though my lungs received oxygen, it no longer seemed to be mine.I did not seek permission. I don't want to.Walking away from the garden where ghosts still whispered under roses and thorns.Walking back to the mansion. His words still reverberated in my mind."Tell Nico... his brother is still alive."The voice so quiet, methodical, was more pointed than a scream.And the silver coin that is missing? Celine snatched it from the bench like it belonged to bloodright. Claws gripped it. her eyes flashed with anything too ancient to be just fury. A bit fishy.While me?The silence was left for me. And a reality I do not understand.Walking a bit faster. My tracks faded beneath the fog. My head reeled. About how ma
His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Seven: A coin and a warning.
**Amelia's POV**The echoes of shots remained in my bones. For hours no one had fired even a single shot, yet the noise persisted within me now, buried behind my pulse.I need to breath.The cold metallic handle biting into my palm like a caution I chose to ignore, I did not seek for permission. I said nothing. I slipped out the rear doors of the west corridor. Outside, fog covered the ground, thick and silver like whispered secrets.My lungs were burned by the air.Still I walked.Every step down the twisting stone road drove me away from the house and toward something silent. Something untouched. With their lights dim and flickering, iron lanterns stood guard along the path. Frost stuck to the hedges like breath taken too long.I heard the delicate splash of water nearby. Concealed from a fountain view.The more distance I went, the more the building behind me looked vanished.And that was when I found it.A gar
His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Six: No exit for traitor.
**Amelia's POV**Looking out into nothing, I was standing at the window where Nico had been earlier.This one revealed everything, unlike the sealed window in the study room.Black-clad bodies moved swiftly like shadows across the grounds for guys. Feet thudded against stone. In a language I could not comprehend, voices yelled instructions. Draw weapons. Faces were tough.Something was rather quite wrong.My heart beat against my ribs as though it sought release.Step by step, I retreated away from the glass till my shoulders hit the wall's edge. That video kept flashing in my mind, of how the guy who dropped me here, the one I believed worked for Nico, had been just a stranger with a borrowed face.Black suit lie.And I had seated myself next him. Went with him. Counted on him.Voices murmured, sharp and tense outside the door.I heard footsteps at that point.The door then swung open.Nico stepped in.He didn't, look at me. Not even once.He headed right to a drawer, snatched a pist
His Touch, Her Ruin Chapter Five: The Devil Wear My Father's Face
**Amelia's POV**I was still staggered by Nico's words."He owed me blood."Those four words throbbed in my chest like a shot I had not seen coming. They clung to my ribs, circling like vultures. Even though I knew my father might be cruel, cold. But even this?This is not just betrayal. This was conflict.As I made my way toward the kitchen, it crushed my breath. The globe felt quieter now. Heavier. I have heard Nico’s confession and wasn't sure what to do with it.I went by the kitchen to find an older woman at the burner. Her spoon's gentle click on a pot was the sole kind element left in the house. Smiling, I greeted, "Good morning, ma'am. Have you noticed Nico around?" “Just call me Martha, dear,” she said warmly, “Nico's in his room. West wing.” My voice almost cracked, "Thank you." I went on, my heart ticking like a time bomb. The west wing differed dramatically from the rest of the home. Everything here was sharp lines, chilly metals, and luxury that spoke of control. It
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