Chapter Six

Amelia's POV

"What's going on here?"

My father's voice echoed from the top of the staircase. He stood there, one hand on the railing, the other tucked into the pocket of his blue office trousers. His white button-up shirt was crisply ironed, but his face was stern. His black hair had more streaks of grey than the last time I saw him.

"Daddy!" Ivy ran toward him, still clutching the open box in her trembling hands. "Can you imagine what Amelia gave me as my engagement gift? A fucking sex toy!"

She held it up like evidence. My mother appeared in the kitchen doorway but said nothing. Damian lingered behind Ivy, his jaw tight, his hazel eyes fixed on me with something between disgust and confusion.

"Of course she did." My father's gaze traveled slowly from Ivy's face to mine. He sized me up, then down.

"That's all someone like you could ever give, isn't it, Amelia? Cheap, and unwanted. Just like yourself."

The words landed like slaps. I felt them sting, but I didn't flinch. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"It's a gift, darling," he added, turning back to Ivy. "Do whatever you want with it."

I shrugged, forcing a small smile. "You'll need it one day."

Ivy's mouth fell open. She spun on her heel and stomped toward the staircase. Damian followed silently, one hand on her waist, shooting me one last glare before disappearing upstairs.

I turned back to my father. "Dad, I want to introduce you to —"

But my mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She smiled at my father. "Hi, honey. You came right on time. Dinner is ready."

He nodded and followed her toward the dining room without another word to me.

"Amelia, set the table," my mother called over her shoulder. It sounded more like a command than a request.

"I'll help you." Ethan stood up, touching my elbow briefly.

Samantha caught my eye and gave me a small smile.

"Thanks," I whispered to Ethan.

I glanced at Asher. He was still standing near the entrance, watching everything. His face was unreadable, but his blue eyes observing everything.

"Please excuse me," I said to him. "I'll be back."

He nodded.

—

Ethan and I set the plates in silence. Sam helped where she could, though her belly made it awkward. She kept throwing me looks. I just shook my head slightly. Not now.

When everything was ready, everyone took their seats.

My father sat at the head of the table. My mother took his left. Ivy slipped into the chair on his right — the seat of honor. Damian sat beside Ivy. Ethan sat next to my mother. Sam sat beside Ethan, her chair pulled close to him.

And I sat beside Samantha. Asher sat to my right. Close enough that his arm constantly brushed mine. He hadn't said a word since we walked in.

My father said grace. The same prayer he'd recited at every family dinner. Then we began to eat.

Forks against porcelain. No one uttered a word.

Then my father set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Amelia," he said slowly, "would you like to introduce the stranger you brought to my house?"

Of all things, you just had to call him that.

I placed my fork down gently. "I tried to introduce you earlier. This is Asher Sinclair. CEO of Home Enterprise. And my fiancé. We got engaged last week."

My father's eyes moved to Asher. He studied him for a long moment — the suit, the watch, the posture. I could see him calculating.

"Asher Sinclair," my father repeated. "I know that name. Your company acquired Baxter Industries last year."

"Two years ago, actually," Asher said calmly. His voice was low. "It became public last year, after all the requirements were completed."

My father nodded slowly. There was something new in his expression now. It didn't look like warmth — respect, maybe. Or just curiosity.

"And what exactly does Home Enterprise do, Mr. Sinclair?"

"Interior designs, primarily. Some real estate. We're expanding into tech infrastructure next quarter." Asher didn't lean back or fidget. He sat confident.

My father raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. And you're the CEO at... thirty-two?"

"Thirty-two, yes. I took over when I was twenty-eight. My father stepped down early — health reasons."

"I see. I've read a little on your accomplishments, and it's remarkable."

My father leaned back in his chair. For the first time all night, he looked pleased.

"So tell me, Mr. Sinclair. You're a young, successful man. CEO of a growing company. Handsome, clearly wealthy. Why would you want to marry her?"

He didn't look at me when he said it. He didn't need to. The dismissal was already in his voice.

Samantha glanced at me, with a tight smile on her face.

I felt my nails dig into my palm under the table.

Asher was quiet for a moment. Then he turned slightly to me. His blue eyes held mine.

"Because she's extraordinary," he said simply. "She runs a holding company. She rebuilt divisions others said were beyond saving. She's loyal, intelligent, and she doesn't break when people try to break her." He paused. "I've met a lot of impressive people in my life, Mr. Brooks. Your daughter is at the top of that list."

Silence.

My mother's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Ivy's smile had frozen. Even Damian looked caught off guard. Samantha blushed beside me, with the way she was smiling, I thought Asher was talking about her.

My father's jaw tightened. Then he laughed — a short, humorless sound.

"Extraordinary," he repeated.

"That's one word for it, I suppose. I have another."

He turned to face me fully now. His grey-blue eyes were ice.

"Amelia has always been difficult, Mr. Sinclair. Even as a child. Never grateful. Never obedient. My mother — God rest her soul — saw something in her that the rest of us never did. A mistake, in my opinion." He picked up his fork again, twirling it between his fingers. "She's not important, and has never been. She was born... how do I put this nicely?"

"You don't have to be delicate, Dad," Ivy said sweetly, her eyes glittering. "We're all family here."

My father smiled. "She was born unremarkable. And she's spent every year since proving me right."

I sat still. My hands were in my lap, fingers woven together so tightly my knuckles had turned white. I didn't speak. I just sat there, like I had sat through every dinner, every holiday, every family gathering since I was old enough to understand that I was the one they didn't want.

You're not important.

You never have been.

Unremarkable.

The words weren't new. They were the same ones I had swallowed a thousand times. But tonight — sitting next to a man who had just called me extraordinary — they cut deeper than usual.

I felt something hot behind my eyes. I blinked it back.

Beside me, Asher shifted slightly. I felt his hand brush mine under the table. Just a touch.

"Oh!"

Everyone turned.

Samantha had both hands pressed against her belly. Her face had gone pale. Her green eyes were wide — frightened.

"Oh, that's — that's not —" she gasped.

"Samantha?" Ethan was already out of his chair, crouching beside her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't know — I just —" She winced, her whole body tensing. Her breathing quickened. "Something's not right. Something's really not right."

My mother stood up, her napkin falling to the floor. Ivy's smug expression vanished, replaced by something uncertain. Even my father's cold mask cracked — just slightly.

Ethan grabbed Sam's hand. "Should I call an ambulance? Sam? Talk to me."

Sam's eyes darted around the table — and landed on me.

"Amy," she whispered.