Chapter eight- The woman in the mirror

Amelia POV

A soft beeping sound pulled me from the abyss. My body felt heavy, my limbs weak as if I had been submerged for too long. My eyelashes fluttered, and the blinding overhead light forced me to squint. The air smelled sterile—too clean. A faint chill wrapped around me, but it wasn’t the cold that made me shiver. It was the memory.

The water. The weight of my dress pulled me under. The burning sensation in my lungs. The woman’s cruel smile.

My fingers twitched against the crisp sheets, and I realized I wasn’t in the hotel room anymore. I was in a hospital. Or at least, a private suite that looked like one. My head pounded, and my throat felt raw as if I had swallowed fire.

And then I saw him.

Maxwell.

He sat beside me, his elbows resting on his knees, his head lowered. His sharp suit was slightly disheveled, his tie loosened, and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. It was subtle, but the exhaustion was there, etched in the tight line of his jaw. His fingers were intertwined, gripping each other as if he were fighting an internal war.

Something unfamiliar flickered in his expression—concern. Or was I imagining it?

I shifted slightly, and the sheets rustled beneath me. His head snapped up instantly. Our eyes met.

I expected relief. Maybe even an ounce of gentleness. But instead, his face hardened in an instant, as if he had caught himself caring.

“You’re awake,” he said flatly.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “Am I dead?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Or is this a really bad dream?”

His nostrils flared, and in the next second, he was standing, towering over me like an impending storm.

“What the hell were you thinking, Amelia?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the quiet. “You left the hall without telling me. And somehow, you ended up at the pool? Unconscious? What is the problem with you?”

His hands curled into fists. “Do you even realize what could have happened?”

I flinched, his anger slicing deeper than the cold water ever had.

“What could have happened?” I echoed weakly. “I almost died, Maxwell.”

His jaw clenched. “And if you had, do you know what that would have done to my reputation?”

I sucked in a breath, a cold, hollow ache forming in my chest.

Of course. His reputation. His image. That’s all that mattered.

Not that I had nearly drowned. Not that I had been shoved into the pool by a woman I barely knew or recognized. Not that I was terrified.

Just his damn reputation.

I turned my face away, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wanted to tell him. About the woman. About the malice in her eyes. But what was the point? He wouldn’t believe me. He never did.

Silence stretched between us, thick with everything left unsaid. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled sharply.

“You’re not leaving this room alone again,” he muttered, his voice lower now. “Not until I say so.”

I should have been angry. I should have argued. But I was too tired, too drained to fight.

Instead, I let my eyes close, surrendering to the darkness once more.

—

The next day, Maxwell returned, his expression unreadable as he stood at the foot of my bed.

“You need to learn how to swim.”

I blinked at him, startled. “What?”

“You heard me.” His gaze was steady, unwavering. “This wouldn’t have happened if you knew how to keep yourself afloat.”

I stared at him, waiting for some cruel remark, some belittling comment—but it never came.

Instead, he reached out a hand. “Get up.”

I hesitated. “Maxwell, I—”

“No arguments.” His tone left no room for protest. “You’re coming with me.”

—

The water was warm, but I still shivered as I stepped into the pool. The ripples lapped at my waist, teasing, reminding me. I inhaled sharply, my pulse quickening.

Maxwell stood in front of me, his shirt discarded, his sleeves rolled up, the top few buttons of his dress shirt still undone. His gaze remained locked onto mine, unwavering, assessing.

He extended his hand.

“Come closer.”

My throat tightened. “I can’t. I’m scared.”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was calm and steady—different from the usual clipped commands. “I won’t let you sink.”

Something in my chest ached at the certainty in his tone.

Still, I hesitated.

“I promise, Amelia.” His voice dipped lower. “Trust me.”

Trust. Such a fragile thing between us. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, I found myself reaching for his hand.

The moment our fingers touched, a jolt of warmth spread through me. He pulled me closer, his grip firm but not forceful. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as he guided me deeper into the water.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

But how could I? With his touch lingering on my skin, his presence so near, the heat of him contrasting with the cool water?

Slowly, he eased me onto my back, his hands supporting me. “Float,” he instructed. “Let the water carry you.”

I tried. I did. But the second he let go, panic seized me. My body tensed, and I immediately began to sink.

His arms were around me in an instant, pulling me back to the surface. “You’re too stiff,” he said, his breath fanning against my ear. “You need to let go.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know how.”

His gaze darkened slightly as if my words meant more than just the water.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

And just like that, Maxwell Cole—the man who had been nothing but cold, ruthless, indifferent—spent the next hour holding me up, guiding me, steadying me.

For the first time in our marriage, I saw something beneath the hard exterior. Something softer. Something real.

Something dangerous.

Because if I wasn’t careful, I might start believing there was a heart beneath all that ice.

—

Later that night, my body ached from exhaustion. But unlike before, it wasn’t the weight of misery. It was something else. Something… lighter.

I slipped into the bathroom, the marble floors cool beneath my bare feet. I turned on the faucet, splashing water on my face, my mind still replaying Maxwell’s touch, his voice, the way he had looked at me in the water.

And then—

A reflection.

I froze.

The mirror revealed her standing behind me. The same woman from the pool.

My breath caught. My stomach twisted.

She smiled, slow and taunting, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“Still alive, I see.”

My blood ran cold.

She took a step forward.

And this time, Maxwell wasn’t here to save me. I just stood at a spot wondering what she might do this time to me.