Amelia POV
The massive chandelier in the dining room sparkled with cold light, its brilliance casting stark shadows across the long table where I sat, alone, poking at the untouched food on my plate. The grandeur of the Cole estate, with its towering walls and cold, gleaming floors, felt more like a gilded cage than a home. It had only been a week since I was thrust into this life as Mrs. Amelia Cole, and already I knew I’d traded one nightmare for another. The sharp clatter of heels against marble snapped me out of my thoughts. Rebecca Cole entered the room like a storm, her piercing green eyes narrowing as they landed on me. “Why is the table set like this?” she barked at one of the maids before turning her scornful gaze back to me. “Amelia, what are you doing just sitting there? Do you think you’re a queen now that you’ve married my son? What do you think you’re doing?” Her words were like knives, each one cutting a little deeper into my already fragile heart. “I… I thought the staff—” I stammered, but she cut me off with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. “Don’t you dare make excuses,” she snapped. “You are part of this family now, and you will earn your place. Get up and make yourself useful. Help the staff clean this mess. Or do you expect us to wait on your hand and foot like some pampered princess?” I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cole,” I murmured, lowering my gaze to the floor. “It’s Mrs. Rebecca to you,” she corrected sharply. “Don’t forget your place, you dirty thing.” My throat tightened, and I forced myself to nod. Every step I took toward the kitchen felt heavier than the last. I had hoped—naively, perhaps—that this marriage would offer me an escape from my mother’s constant criticism and Lisa’s petty cruelties. But now, I realized I’d simply exchanged one prison for another. I never failed to remind myself of the mistake I had made. Maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to my inner voice telling me to run but I didn’t dare to do so. By the time I reached the kitchen, my heart was pounding in my chest. The maids whispered among themselves, their glances filled with a mix of pity and disapproval. I wanted to disappear, to shrink into nothingness. Instead, I grabbed a tray of dishes and began the humiliating task of cleaning up the dining room. As I worked, the door to the dining room opened again, and this time, the air seemed to grow colder. Maxwell’s towering figure filled the doorway. His dark suit clung to his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes—so much like his mother’s—swept over me with a look that was equal parts annoyance and indifference. “Mother, what is this nonsense?” he demanded, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Rebecca turned to him, her expression softening into something that almost resembled affection. “Oh, Maxwell, I’m simply teaching your wife some discipline. She needs to learn how things work in this family.” Maxwell’s eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something—concern, maybe?—flicker across his face. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. “If she’s going to live here, she’ll follow the rules,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion. “But don’t waste your time, Mother. She’s hardly worth the effort.” His words hit me like a slap, and I fought to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to demand why he had married me if he despised me so much. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the strength. Rebecca smirked, clearly pleased with her son’s response. “You’re right, Maxwell. She’s not worth much at all. But I suppose she serves her purpose.” I didn’t dare ask what that purpose was. Instead, I kept my head down and continued cleaning, the humiliation burning in my chest like a hot coal. When the dining room was spotless, I retreated to the small bedroom I had been assigned. It wasn’t the luxurious master suite I’d expected as Maxwell’s wife, but a plain, sparsely furnished room tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate. It was clear they didn’t see me as part of the family—just an inconvenience to be hidden away. I sank onto the bed, my head in my hands. The reality of my situation was suffocating. I had hoped, even prayed, that this marriage would be the start of something better. But instead, it felt like the end of everything I had ever dreamed of. As the hours dragged on, the weight of the day settled over me like a heavy blanket. I thought about my mother’s cold smile as she shoved me toward this life, about Lisa’s smug look of triumph as I packed my bags. They had gotten exactly what they wanted: financial security and a scapegoat to bear the burden of their greed. But what about me? What did I get? Just then, a soft knock at the door startled me. I wiped at my tear-streaked face and sat up. “Come in,” I called, my voice trembling. The door creaked open, and one of the younger maids, a kind girl named Rosa, stepped inside. She held a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. “I thought you might need this,” she said softly, her eyes filled with compassion. I managed a weak smile. “Thank you, Rosa,” I whispered, taking the tray from her. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, then sighed and shook her head. “You don’t deserve this,” she said finally. “Any of it. You’re too kind for people like them.” Her words brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, and I blinked them away. “I’ll be fine,” I said, though the words felt hollow. Rosa gave me a sad smile before leaving, and I was once again alone. I sipped the tea, letting its warmth soothe my aching heart, and stared out the small window at the dark sky. Somewhere out there, a better life awaited me. I just had to find the strength to reach for it. But for now, I was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage, surrounded by people who saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their games. And yet, deep down, a small part of me refused to give up hope. I had survived my mother’s cruelty. I had endured Lisa’s taunts. Surely, I could survive this, too.Amelia’s POV Silence.It was the silence that woke me. The house was never this quiet in the morning—not with Lila around. Usually, I’d hear the soft patter of her feet, the creak of her door as she tried to sneak into mine, or her little hums as she dressed her doll.But today, there was nothing.A chill ran through me as I slipped out of bed. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and an unease I couldn’t name twisted inside me. I pulled my robe tighter around me and crossed the hall to Lila’s room.“Lila?” I whispered, pushing the door open.The bed was empty. Sheets thrown aside. The window—half open. Her doll lay on the floor, discarded, its head twisted at an odd angle.My stomach dropped.“Lila!” My voice cracked as I rushed inside, yanking open her wardrobe, peering under the bed, checking every corner though I knew—I knew—she wasn’t there.My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe.“Maxwell!” I screamed, stumbling back into the hallway. “Maxwell!”He appeared from his office
Patience was supposed to be my strength. But patience with Amelia was wearing into something sharper, rawer, every day.The house had become a battlefield. Every conversation with her seemed to circle back to one subject—Lila. And though I wanted to believe we were fighting on the same side, the way Amelia looked at me now, like I was the enemy, made my chest burn with equal parts anger and guilt.Tonight was no different.“You’re avoiding it again,” she said, her voice clipped as she stood in the doorway of my office. “You bury yourself in papers and strategy like this is some merger you can outwit. Meanwhile, Victoria’s tearing her down piece by piece. Don’t you see it, Maxwell?”I didn’t look up from the file I was scanning, because if I did, I might say something I couldn’t take back. “I see it. Every damn day.”“Then why don’t you do something?” Her voice broke, fierce and trembling. “She’s eight years old. Eight. Do you know what she asked me this morning? If being quiet makes h
Maxwell’s POVPatience. Everyone said it was my strength. Colleagues called it discipline, enemies called it arrogance, and Victoria—back when she still pretended to love me—used to call it coldness.But patience was never cold. It was heat buried under iron. Rage chained so tightly that people mistook it for calm.And right now, that chain was breaking.Every time I looked at Lila, I saw another piece of her fading. The spark in her eyes shrinking. The way she hesitated before speaking, as if she had to rehearse the words in her head first, terrified of saying the wrong thing. She was only a child, but Victoria was teaching her how to disappear.It was killing me.And it killed me worse that Amelia thought I was letting it happen.⸻The memory of last night in the kitchen still stung—Amelia’s eyes burning with fury, her voice raw as she accused me of standing by, of doing nothing. She thought I was blind, or worse, indifferent. She didn’t know that every cruel word Victoria spat at L
Amelia’s POVI hated the way Victoria spoke to her.It wasn’t discipline. It wasn’t parenting. It was cruelty wrapped in red lipstick and false authority. Words like knives, flung carelessly, cutting into a little girl’s heart that hadn’t yet learned how to shield itself.I could still hear it—Lila’s small voice, trembling as she whispered, “Mommy yelled at me. She called me stupid.” The echo haunted me, louder than the gala music, louder than the whispers of reporters, louder than anything else in my head.And it wouldn’t let me rest.That night, after Maxwell returned from his endless board meeting, I couldn’t keep it in.We were in the kitchen. The city lights spilled in through the wide windows, scattering across the marble countertops. He loosened his tie, exhaustion dragging down his broad shoulders, but when his eyes found me leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he stilled.“Maxwell,” I said, my voice too sharp to sound casual.The way he looked at me told me he already k
Amelia POVThe silence in the car felt heavier than it should have.Maxwell hadn’t let go of my hand since we left the gala, his fingers wrapped tightly around mine like he was afraid I might vanish into the night. I didn’t speak either. I didn’t need to. The questions from that tabloid rat still rang in both our ears, each word meant to slice, to humiliate. But none of it had broken me.Not tonight.Once we were inside the apartment, he turned to face me, jaw tight, guilt flickering in his stormy gray eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You didn’t deserve that.”“No, I didn’t,” I agreed quietly, stepping out of my heels and stretching my toes across the cold tiles. “But it’s fine.”Maxwell furrowed his brows. “How can it be fine?”I shrugged off my shawl and placed it on the arm of the couch. “Because people have mouths. They’ll talk. They’ll assume. Twist truths into poison. That’s their sport.” I turned to him, gaze steady. “But you—you’re not the world. You’re mine.”His shoulders re
Victoria POVThe room felt like it was closing in on me.Walls lined with designer wallpaper and expensive art suddenly felt suffocating. Screens blared images of them—Maxwell and Amelia—on every channel, across every site. Laughing. Kissing. Holding hands like they were some goddamn royal couple.Charity Gala: The Power Couple of the Year.Is Amelia Cole the Next It-Girl in High Society?Maxwell Cole Defends Lover from Scandalous Barren Rumor—Fans Applaud His Devotion.Applaud?I flung the remote across the room. It crashed into the mirror, shattering both glass and my restraint.Applaud her for what? For being a parasite that latched onto my family? For seducing the father of my child and parading around in gowns while pretending to be his equal?I paced the room like a caged animal. My bare feet dug into the plush carpet. I didn’t care. The burn in my chest made it hard to breathe. Every headline was a slap in the face. Every picture, a dagger twisting deeper.He was supposed to re