Chapter 5. Her Determination

Amelia excused herself quietly, fingers tightening around the hem of her dress. No one stopped her. No one asked if she was all right. The silence in the living room felt heavier than any argument, pressing against her chest as she turned and walked toward the staircase.

She kept her head high as she climbed, even though her heart was sinking with every step.

Behind her, Stella finally found her voice.

“Ricardo,” she said, disbelief and anger trembling beneath her calm tone. “Does your grandfather know about this… marriage?”

Ricardo’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at Stella immediately. “Yes,” he replied flatly. “He does.”

Stella’s eyes widened. “So this isn’t some lie? This woman—Amelia—is really your wife?”

“She is,” Ricardo said, his voice firm now. “Legally.”

The word landed like a slap.

Stella rose to her feet, her hands clenched into fists. “Then why was I never told? Why did you let me keep coming here, acting like—”

“Because it was none of your business,” Ricardo interrupted coldly. “And it still isn’t.”

The sharpness in his tone stunned her into silence.

Ricardo finally looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You shouldn’t come here anymore, Stella. I’m a married man."

For a moment, Stella couldn’t breathe. Anger burned through her shock, humiliation flushing her face. Without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed toward the door, heels striking the floor with fury. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound echoing through the house.

Ricardo stood still, staring at the empty space she left behind.

Then he turned toward the staircase.

His gaze lifted instinctively to the upper floor, stopping at the corridor that led to Amelia’s room. For a brief moment, something unfamiliar stirred in his chest—hesitation. He thought about going to her. About explaining. About telling her what had really happened earlier and why Stella was there.

He took one step forward.

Then another.

But before he reached the stairs, he stopped.

There’s no need, he told himself. This marriage is a contract. Nothing more.

With that thought, he turned away and headed to his own room, shutting the door behind him and locking away the doubt he refused to acknowledge.

Inside her room, Amelia leaned against the door the moment she closed it.

Her hands trembled.

She slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor, her knees drawn to her chest. The walls felt too quiet, too empty, as if they were listening to the thoughts she was trying so hard to suppress.

So it was true.

Ricardo had someone else. Or at least… someone who mattered to him enough to walk freely into their home. Someone who looked at him with familiarity and expectation—things Amelia knew she would never have.

She pressed her palm against her chest, forcing herself to breathe.

This is what you agreed to, she reminded herself bitterly. A contract. A deal. Five years.

No love. No expectations.

Yet, her heart ached as if it hadn’t gotten the message.

She stood up slowly and walked toward the bed, sitting on the edge. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, memories of their marriage replaying in her mind—his cold distance, his silence, the invisible wall he never let her cross.

Tonight had only confirmed what she already knew.

She was alone in this marriage.

Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away stubbornly. Crying wouldn’t change anything. Hoping wouldn’t either.

Amelia straightened her shoulders.

I won’t make the same mistake again, she told herself.

She would stop caring. Stop expecting kindness. Stop imagining a place for herself in Ricardo’s life beyond the signed papers that bound them together.

From this moment on, she would treat this marriage exactly as it was meant to be—a transaction.

Five years.

That was all that remained.

When the contract ended, so would everything else.

And until that day came, Amelia Hart decided firmly in her heart that she would have nothing—absolutely nothing—to do with Ricardo beyond what was necessary.

She lay back on the bed, staring into the darkness, her resolve hardening with every second.

This was the beginning of her emotional withdrawal.

And she would survive it—no matter the cost.