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CHAPTER NINE: THE DRESS

Autor: Grace ink
last update Fecha de publicación: 2026-10-27 05:55:24
AMELIA'S POV

I woke up on the floor of his office.

The carpet left red lines on my cheek. My neck ached. The folder was still on my chest, heavy and cold, like it had been there all night. My phone was dead on the floor beside me.

Morning light cut through the blinds in thin white lines. 6:17 AM on the clock above his desk.

I sat up slowly. My dress was wrinkled beyond saving. My eyes were swollen almost shut. I could taste salt on my lips from crying.

I picked up the folder and my de
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  • Sold To a Billionaire    chapter twenty two:the tower

    AMELIA POVI ran twelve blocks last night because we had no money for a taxi.I am running twelve blocks now because I am scared if I stop running, I will turn around.It's cold. My sneakers are Adrian's old sneakers that Mrs. Lewis found in the closet because mine have a hole and let water in. They are too big. They slap when I run. My jeans are too thin. The wool coat is too big but it's warm and it smells like him, which is the only reason I'm not crying.Eleven blocks. Ten. Nine.My cross bangs against my chest with every step. Cold, then warm, then cold.Sebastian's text is burned behind my eyes even though I turned my phone off and put it under a pillow. _You looked prettier when you cried._ 43 more. He has 43 more.The newspaper man at the door. _Is it true Sebastian Cole is pressing charges?_And Adrian's father. My father-in-law, who I've met twice, who looked at me in his office on the day Adrian paid for me like I was a stain on his rug that cost two million dollars. Who te

  • Sold To a Billionaire    CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: THE COLLECTION

    SEBESTIAN POVShe blocked me.Amelia blocked me. In ten minutes. She used to take three hours to reply and then apologize for being slow.I stare at the phone. Delivered, not read. Then one tick goes grey. Blocked.My jaw clicks. I grind my teeth so hard my dentist warned me about it.The photo is still open on my laptop. Folder: AMELIA HART - 2019-2024. 44 photos. 12 videos, all from the security cameras at the old restaurant that she never knew recorded audio. Plus the locker room one. The crying one.I told Adrian I had 43 more. I have 43 more. I counted this morning. I like counting.I scroll. 2019: Red dress interview. Hair too long, too nervous, hands shaking around a water cup. 2020: Cleaning tables, hair tied up, that silver cross always there, even when she wore that ugly uniform. 2021: Locker room. The day I heard her. 2022: Outside with Thomas, that fat bastard father of hers yelling, her just standing there taking it. 2023: With Adrian in the office, first day, looking lik

  • Sold To a Billionaire    CHAPTER TWENETY:THE OFFICE

    AMELIA POVHe left at 11:07.I watched from the window, even though I told myself I wouldn't. He wore the leather jacket that smells like last night, not a suit. His lip still split. He walked because the driver still hasn't come back and his cards are declined. Mrs. Lewis said, "Let the boy walk, it builds character," but she was holding the curtains too tight.He looked back once, at the house, at my window. I ducked.Now it's 11:34 and the house is too quiet.I took a shower. I put on my own clothes for the first time in two days. Old jeans, old sweater with a hole in the elbow. My mother's cross still around my neck. I keep touching it like it will disappear if I don't.Mrs. Lewis is downstairs vacuuming the same rug for the third time. Loud, so I don't have to think.My phone buzzes. On the bed. I don't have many people who text me.It's a photo.My stomach drops before I even open it.It's me. In the red dress. From behind. Locker room, nineteen, hair wet, crying. The photo Seba

  • Sold To a Billionaire    CHAPTER NINETEEN:THE COFFE

    ADRIAN POVShe said she wants it to stay.I am trying not to make it weird.We are standing in my closet, forehead to forehead, her tears on my thumbs, my hands on her face like I have any right to hold her like this. She said _I want it to stay_ in that voice that is barely a voice and my chest did that thing again.And I didn't kiss her.God, I wanted to. Her mouth was right there, a breath away, her cross cold between us. But if I kissed her now, with her crying, with last night still all over us, it would feel like I was buying another thing. And I swore last night, to the ceiling at 2:17 AM, that she is not for sale anymore. Not even to me.So I just breathe with her.Downstairs, Mrs. Lewis drops something. Loud. A pan, probably. Amelia jumps.I drop my hands. "Coffee. She made coffee."Amelia wipes her face with the sleeve of my coat, my coat, that goes down to her knees. "I look horrible.""You look like you slept on my floor and then drooled on me.""I DID NOT DROOL."She hits

  • Sold To a Billionaire    CHAPTER EIGHTEN: THE MOENING AFTER

    I wake up because my neck hurts.And because something is heavy on me. Not heavy like a blanket. Heavy like an arm.I open my eyes.Ceiling. Not mine. His. The crack in the corner that looks like a river. The light is grey, morning, early. Cold coming in from the window.And Adrian.His arm is around me. His chest is under my cheek. He's asleep.He's really asleep. Mouth open a little, breath slow. His lip is split, dried blood in the corner. His knuckles on the hand holding me are swollen, purple.Last night comes back in pieces. The walk. The cold. The red dress. The floor. Crying.I fell asleep on the floor. I remember that. I don't remember getting into bed.He carried me.I look down. I'm still in his coat. His big wool coat that smells like him, like laundry soap and last night's rain. My sneakers are off, lined up by the bed like he placed them. My hand - my hand is still holding my mother's cross.It's warm now. From my fist.I should move. I should get up and make coffee and

  • Sold To a Billionaire    chapter seventen: the red dress

    ADRIAN'S POVShe's asleep.Finally.It took two hours. We walked home because the driver left and I didn't have money for a taxi. My card got declined. Declined. Blackwood heir, card declined for $18.We walked twelve blocks in the cold. Her holding a cheap red dress and a silver cross like they were diamonds. Me holding her hand, bleeding lip, sweater torn, leather jacket smelling like Sebastian's cheap cologne and wine.Mrs. Lewis opened the door and screamed when she saw my lip. Amelia told her we were fine, we got the necklace back, don't ask. We went upstairs.She put the red dress on the bed like it was something holy. She put the cross around her neck. It sat right here, in the hollow of her throat, where my thumb is now. She kept touching it.Then she collapsed. On the bedroom floor, not the bed. Same spot we ate soup this morning. She just sat down and started crying, quiet, no sobs, just tears running down.I sat with her. I didn't say anything. What do you say after you fin

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