Amelia
“You’re not even trying,” I complained, folding my arms across my chest as I stood a few feet away from Ethan in his private gym.
State-of-the-art equipment remained there, shining in the fluorescent lights, clean and unworn.
Ethan sat in his wheelchair, glaring at me like I’d just insulted his very existence. His dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, burned with barely restrained irritation.
“Trying won’t change the fact that my legs don’t work, " he bit out, his deep baritone voice laced with anger.
His jaw tensed, and the scar on his temple, partially concealed by a neat, jetblack hairline, appeared to be visible as he tensed.
I held my breath, not letting my anger and frustration get out. Why was everything hard with this man? We've been at this for an hour now.
“This isn’t about whether your legs work right now. It’s about building strength, even if it’s incremental. Progress starts somewhere, Ethan.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that brought joy.
It was bitter, cutting. “You don’t get it, do you? You can sit there with your perfect life and spout all the therapy jargon you want, but at the end of the day, I’m stuck here. This chair is my reality.”
I stepped closer, my heeled boots clicking against the polished floor.
“You think I have a perfect life?” I asked, my voice rising despite my attempt to stay calm. “Ethan, you don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Enlighten me, then”, he shot back, his lips curling into a mocking smirk.
For a moment, I considered telling him everything and about my mother, the mounting medical bills, the sleepless nights worrying about how I’d keep her alive.
But this wasn’t about me, and I wasn’t about to let him derail the session.
“You don't deserve to be enlightened.” I replied instead.
Then I crouched in front of him, coming eye to eye with him. His features were striking, even when twisted in anger. His broad shoulders and muscular frame hinted at the man he used to be, someone full of strength and vitality.
“Stand up,” I said firmly.
His brows furrowed, and he looked at me like I’d just suggested he sprout wings. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said, holding my ground. “You’re going to try standing. Even if it’s just for a second.”
“I can’t.” he answered, his voice quieter now, but no less defiant.
“You don’t know that unless you try.”
His hands gripped the wheels of his chair tightly, the veins in his forearms bulging. “What part of ‘I can’t’ don’t you understand?”
“The place where you've already decided to throw in the towel," I whispered, my own voice echoing in the empty space. “You’re Ethan Steele, the man who built an empire from nothing. Are you seriously going to let this chair shape who you are?”
His jaw worked as he ground his teeth together, but he didn’t respond. I knew I'd hit a nerve.
“All right," I replied, rising to my feet and backing up. “If you’re so determined to stay where you are, then stay. But don’t blame me when nothing changes.”
I turned on my heel, ready to leave him to his stubbornness, when his voice stopped me.
“Wait.”
When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw, for the first time, other than for his usual expression of hostility, the man's eyes held another emotion.
It was vulnerable, raw and unguarded.
He settled his hands on the arm of his chair, his shoulders shaking a little at the rolling movement as he rocketed himself up. His legs vibrated, and for a second I doubted whether he would stumble.
Without thinking, I rushed to his side, my hands hovering near his waist in case he needed support.
“You’re doing it,” I said softly.
“I’m not a child, he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual venom. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’m just saying you’re stronger than you think.”
He held my stare, and for a moment, the space between us seemed to shrink. The air crackled like static electricity, and I could feel the heat radiating off him.
His face was mere inches from mine, and I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his otherwise dark eyes. His lips parted for a moment and I could feel my breath hitch.
“You’re annoying like a bee buzzing in your ear all the time,” he muttered, though his voice had softened.
“And you’re impossible. I could do without your attitude.” I shot back, my own voice barely above a whisper.
The air between us grew heavier, charged.
His gaze flickered to my lips, and before I could stop myself, I wondered what it would feel like if he closed the distance.
He bit his lower lip and a sharp thrill ran down my spine. He was handsome, in a movie star way. It was a pity he was crippled.
He leaned in, but only slightly as if he was trying to talk himself out of doing something. Out of kissing me.
“Are you always this demanding?” His voice was low, but husky.
Then he reached up and traced my cheek with his thumb. I didn't respond, too occupied by the sharp tingles that ran round my body at his touch.
What was wrong with me? I wondered.
However, as the moment began to spin out of control into the realms of the unanticipated, the clanging of the gym door opening spoiled the moment.
“Am I interrupting something?” Jared’s voice rang out, cool and clipped.
When I jumped backward in alarm, my cheek felt the heat as I faced him. Jared stood in the doorway, his tailored suit immaculate as always, his expression, well..not there.
Ethan slumped back into his chair, and put on an air of nonchalance. “What do you want, Jared?”
Jared’s gaze flicked between us before settling on Ethan. “The board has called a surprise meeting. They’re questioning your competency as CEO. Veronica is there.”
Ethan's face paled, and his hands became clenched fists.
“And my father? Is he with her?”
“No, he's not. But I warn you, the board is behind her. They must have met with your father.” Jared told him.
“Do I stand a chance of turning this around?” Ethan asked.
I watched helplessly as Jared shrugged.
Amelia's pov I woke in my own bed the next morning, startled for a moment to find myself here.The sheets smelled faintly of lavender and sea air, sun-warmed from yesterday, though the room was still cool. I stretched my legs under the covers, testing them. They didn’t feel like they belonged to me yet, but they moved. That was something.I’d expected to lie awake most of the night, but somehow sleep had claimed me anyway — deeper and longer than I’d thought possible.And now, in the strange quiet of the villa, it felt almost obscene to have slept so well.The silence was the worst part. The house was too big, too still. Every faint creak of wood or sigh of wind through the balcony doors sounded louder here.By the time sunlight crept across the floor, I couldn’t lie there anymore.I got up.Showered.Dressed in the simplest things I owned — soft black pants, a pale sweater, flats. My hair went into a low knot at the base of my neck. No makeup. I couldn’t bear to see my own reflectio
Ethan's pov "You’re medically cleared to go home today, Mr. Steele. You can take her any time this afternoon."The doctor said it like he was telling me good news, and I forced a polite nod to match the weight of his tone. My hand was already on Amelia’s shoulder as she sat on the edge of the hospital bed, back straight, hands folded loosely in her lap.Her expression didn’t change."Thank you, Doctor," she said, her voice flat but not unkind."You’ll want to keep an eye on the bleeding," he continued, flipping through his chart. "Light walking around the house is fine. No heavy lifting. Rest as much as you can the next few days. And… well, if you feel you’d benefit from counseling, we can recommend someone.""I understand."Her tone was clipped. Final. The doctor hesitated, then gave me a faint nod and left.When the door clicked shut, I crouched a little so I could meet her eye."You sure you’re ready?" I asked."Yes.""If you’d rather stay another night, I can—""No. I’m ready."H
Amelia's pov "I didn’t cry."That’s the first lie I told myself.But the second the door shut behind him, and I was alone in that white hospital room, I broke.Hot, silent tears slid into my hair as I stared at the ceiling and gripped the stiff sheets so hard my knuckles ached.When Ethan came back, I’d already wiped my face. He carried two water bottles. He set one on the table, twisting the cap for me without looking up."Here. Drink when you can.""Thank you," I murmured, my throat dry.His head lifted, just slightly. His eyes scanned mine like he could see what I wasn’t saying, then dropped again. He sat, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together."You should’ve told me sooner," he muttered."I didn’t know it would get that bad," I said."It doesn’t matter. You should’ve told me.""You weren’t here," I shot back, sharper than I meant.His head came up fully then. "Don’t start.""Why not?"His jaw flexed. "Because I’m here now. That’s what matters.""Is it?"
Amelia's pov "Don’t put me down… please."That’s what I remember saying. Or maybe just thinking.But Ethan held me tighter anyway, his arms like steel and shaking all at once as he carried me through the villa’s hallway.His breath was ragged above me, his voice cracking every few seconds as he shouted for someone—anyone—to help.I was so cold. My head lolled against his chest, and the faint smell of his cologne clung to me, sharp and expensive, mixed now with the coppery tang of blood.I blinked once and saw the hallway lights blur into stars.The next time my eyes opened, we were in a room I didn’t recognize—smaller than ours, with a narrow bed already stripped bare and a man in a white coat rolling up his sleeves."Here. Lay her down here."I felt the sudden chill of the sheets beneath me as Ethan lowered me onto the bed, one hand still cupping the back of my head like I might break completely without him.He knelt beside me, his cane forgotten somewhere behind him, his face pale a
Amelia's pov: present "Ethan…"His name scraped out of my throat before I even knew I was saying it.But no one answered.I was slumped on the floor just inside the bedroom door, the towel clutched hard against me already soaked through and warm with blood. The air smelled like lavender and saltwater, and the tiles beneath me felt so cold, it made my teeth chatter.I pressed my palm harder against the towel, trying to convince myself it was enough to stop it. But the blood kept coming.I tried to sit up straighter and immediately felt the world tilt sideways. My vision swam. My fingers went numb.Beyond the door I could still hear faint laughter, faint murmuring—Ethan’s voice low and warm. For half a second it comforted me. Then the sound twisted itself into something sharp, something mean. My mind conjured her—Sienna out there with him, lips red, hand on his arm. Smiling like she already knew how this would end.I hated myself for thinking it, but the thought stuck in my ribs and wo
Ethan's pov: 2hrs ago "Don’t wait up. I’ll be quick."That’s what I told her.Amelia was already sinking into the bath when I closed the bedroom door behind me. I could still hear the faint slosh of water and her soft sigh echoing in my head as I stepped into the quiet of the villa’s corridor.The text had come through just minutes earlier, buzzing on the nightstand.Come to the terrace for a minute. Need to talk before everyone gathers. You look good on your feet again. Proud of you.It was from Marco—the owner of the villa and my oldest friend from university. The gala tonight was his doing. His message hadn’t sounded urgent, but knowing Marco, he’d already have two glasses of whiskey in him and a dozen things he wanted to say before the formal toast began.I straightened my jacket, grabbed my cane from where it leaned against the armoire, and gave one last glance at the door to the bathroom. The scent of lavender hung in the air even out here.I told myself it wouldn’t take long.