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 POVThe walls were too tight. The house was too silent.Even when it wasn’t.Rebecca’s voice still echoed in my head, thick with venom and victory. That card, now folded neatly in my coat pocket, felt like a thousand bricks pulling at my spine.I needed air. I needed to clear my head a little. Maybe a little walk would help. I didn’t tell anyone. I just slipped out through the back gate, my coat pulled close, the collar up against my chin. The morning chill bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. I wanted it to bite. To remind me I was still here. Still standing.My feet took me through the quiet streets of the city outskirts—familiar corners I hadn’t walked in years. I passed the bakery with the chipped blue awning, the park bench with the rusted arms, and the corner where the fence once stood tall behind my childhood home.And that’s where I saw him.Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark curly hair tucked beneath a grey beanie. He was leaning against the fence, phone in hand, when I first
Amelia POVThe ride back was quiet. Too quiet.Maxwell kept talking—low, careful sentences about the stars, about how the city looked better from above, how he used to come to that rooftop as a boy when everything else felt like too much. His voice was calm—almost… content.And I hated him for it.I sat beside him in the passenger seat, hands folded in my lap, knuckles white. My gaze fixed on the passing lights outside the window, but I wasn’t seeing them.I was watching him. Not just with my eyes. With every inch of me.He looked so at ease. One hand on the wheel, the other tapping a slow rhythm against his knee. Like tonight had been some beautiful moment. A memory.For him, maybe it was.But for me?It was a slow unraveling.He kept glancing my way like he wanted to say more. Like he was still inside that rooftop fantasy, still tasting the wine, still convinced the moment hadn’t died.It had.It died the second that message came in. The second I saw the words Maxwell Cole & Victori
Amelia POVI never intended to take the bag.When Maxwell handed it to me, I thought it was some last-ditch bribe—another attempt to manipulate emotions he couldn’t voice aloud. But when I opened it and saw the gown, everything in me stilled.I should’ve walked away. I told myself I would. But then he said it.“Just tonight. Give me one night, Amelia.”And I don’t know what shattered me more—his voice when he said it, or the fact that he didn’t beg… he asked.So now, here I was, standing in front of the tall mirror in the guest bedroom, holding the emerald gown against my body like it was made of something fragile. Like it would vanish the second I doubted it.My fingers trembled as I slipped it on.It fits like a second skin. The neckline was soft but elegant, brushing just above the collarbone. The silk draped down my frame, hugging curves I’d spent months hiding behind sweatshirts and oversized coats. My hair, for once, was down—loose waves curling just beneath my shoulders.I caug
Maxwell POVThe room was silent again. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that screamed in your ears, filled every corner and made you aware of your breathing. And yet, all I could think about was her voice from the night before.“I want a divorce, Maxwell.”I hadn’t been asleep. Not really.I heard her walk in. I listened to the words fall from her lips like something she’d practiced a dozen times before saying it. There was no shaking in her voice. No tears. Just that firm, a final tone that cut deeper than any blade ever could.And I stayed still.Pretended to be asleep.Because if I moved—if I looked at her—I knew I would’ve shattered and I couldn’t afford to let her see that part of me. My mother’s voice had already poisoned enough of my thoughts. Her words days ago still lingered like the stench of smoke in a burned room.“You don’t need her anymore, Maxwell. You’ve gotten what you wanted. The press is quiet, the board is happy, and Victoria… she’s back. With your child.”I hadn’t
Amelia POV“I want a divorce, Maxwell.”I didn’t scream it. I didn’t whisper it. I just said it. Firm. Final. Like I meant it. Because I did or maybe I lied to myself but it was better than accepting it. The words had sat on my tongue for days, bitter and burning. Now that they were out, floating in the silence between us, I expected something. A gasp. A denial. A laugh, maybe. Even a fight or maybe a yes. But nothing came.He didn’t say a word.I stood in the doorway of his home office, arms folded tightly across my chest to keep myself from shaking. He was at his desk, back facing me when I spoke. I waited for him to turn, to react, to do something—but the seconds dragged on into minutes, and all I got was silence.The kind that made your stomach twist. The kind that made doubt slither in.Was he ignoring me? Did he care at all? Of course, he didn’t. I shifted, heart pounding louder with every breath. “Did you hear me?” I asked, this time softer.Still nothing.I stepped forward
Amelia POVThe room was dark, but not dark enough to hide the cracks in me.I curled on the far side of the bed, facing the wall, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The pillow beneath my cheek was damp, my tears soaking into the fabric like the grief had to go somewhere. Silent sobs escaped me, raw and aching. The kind of pain that couldn’t be screamed out. The kind you buried deep because no one cared enough to hear it.Not in this house.The door creaked open, and instinctively, I wiped my face, hastily smearing the wetness away. My heart kicked up, thumping erratically as heavy footsteps crossed the threshold. I didn’t turn. I didn’t breathe. I pressed my eyes shut and stilled—pretending.He stood there for a moment.Watching.I could feel it—Maxwell’s presence was like a storm cloud in the doorway, the air shifting and growing heavier. He sighed. Quiet, but deep, like something in him was unraveling. I heard the rustle of fabric, the sound of him rubbing a hand across
Amelia POVShe pushed past me like I was a coat rack.Literally.Her shoulder hit mine, her suitcase scraped against my leg, and I stumbled back two steps, blinking in disbelief as Victoria waltzed into the house like it was hers—like I was the intruder.“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, my voice low, shaky.She didn’t even look at me. She just tossed her coat over the back of the couch and dropped her suitcase right in the middle of the hallway. “Didn’t Maxwell tell you?” she said with a venomous smile. “I’m moving in. Our daughter needs her mother and not some stranger.”I opened my mouth to protest, scream, and demand she get the hell out—but the rapid thump of small footsteps interrupted me.“Mommy!”Lila.She came running down the stairs, curls bouncing, arms outstretched. Her face lit up like the sun itself rose in her chest.Victoria knelt just in time to scoop her into her arms, spinning her once before holding her close. “Oh my baby,” she murmured, her voice coated in s
Amelia POVI couldn’t move. I stood frozen in the dining room, my hands clenched into trembling fists, heart thundering in my chest. The candles I lit earlier flickered behind me, casting shadows across the floor—shadows of a night that was supposed to be different. Romantic. Intimate. Something for us.Instead, he walked in with a child. A living, breathing proof of a past I thought he had buried.Lila.Victoria’s child.Maxwell’s daughter.The words echoed in my mind like a siren.Victoria was right. She wasn’t bluffing afterall.I should’ve said something. Should’ve reacted. But I just stood there, letting his cold words slice into me. “This is Lila. My daughter.”And just like that, everything I had built with Maxwell cracked beneath my feet.I didn’t hate Lila. God, no. She was beautiful—green eyes, soft curls, small fingers clutching a stuffed bear like it was her lifeline. She was innocent. But she was Victoria’s. And that made something inside me twist painfully.Because no ma
Maxwell’s POV The drive home was silent, except for the hum of the radio. My fingers gripped the steering wheel, but I wasn’t tense—I was thinking. Calculating. Lila sat in the passenger seat, her small legs swinging, clutching her stuffed teddy against her chest. She was quiet but observant—just like me. I glanced at her, my expression unreadable. Could she be mine? The DNA test was tomorrow, but I already knew. Those green eyes staring up at me were all the proof I needed. But Amelia? I sighed, barely sparing a thought for her. Whatever we had planned for tonight didn’t matter anymore. Things had changed. She’d either understand or she wouldn’t. Either way, it wasn’t my problem. As I pulled into the driveway, I exhaled slowly. Lila turned to me with those big, questioning eyes. “We’re going to meet someone very special to me today.” She blinked. “Is she nice?” I smirked. “I guess we’ll find out.” Inside, the house smelled like vanilla—Amelia’s favorite scent. The di