Amelia
“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, Amelia. Do you realize how much this could boost your career?”, Dr. Marks leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk like he had all the time in the world.
I did not. What I saw was the flashing neon sign of regret associated with Ethan Steele's work.
“No, I'm not listening," I stated decidedly as I grabbed my tote bag. “Let’s be honest, I care about my peace of mind and from what I’ve been told, Ethan Steele doesn't come across as a piece of cake to find serenity.”
I knew I should have sent him over to someone else the moment Estelle told me she'd be transferring her patients to me, since she was resigning, but I hadn't.
I thought I could handle it. Handle him…And I was wrong. I dreaded our sessions more than I dreaded working overtime.
Dr. Marks sighed, his eyes narrowing in that patronizing way senior doctors often did when they felt superior. “Amelia, Ethan Steele isn’t just any patient. He’s the Ethan Steele. If you succeed with him, the doors it could open—”
A scoff escaped my lips. The only doors that could open were the doors of my office, ushering him out after each session.
“I’m not here for doors”. I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m here to help people heal, not babysit some billionaire who’s too proud to put in the work.”
“He’s not your typical case, " Dr. Marks pressed, sitting forward. “You’re the best physical therapist we have after Estelle. If anyone can handle him, it’s you.”
Handle him. As if I didn't have enough to do. Between juggling demanding clients, my clinic responsibilities, and my mother’s mounting medical bills, taking on a high profile case like Ethan Steele’s felt like asking for trouble.
“Find someone else,” I said, standing. “I can’t do this.”
The elevator ride down to the clinic’s lobby felt suffocating.
My cell phone rang inside my bag, but I did nothing about it.
Probably just another prompt about late payments or calls I just did not have the energy to respond to.
As I stepped outside, the brisk air snapped at my face. The walk to my apartment was only ten minutes, but I could already feel the weight of the day pressing down.
Just the idea of sitting in my dingy one bedroom apartment and wrestling with another pile of medical chill out sheets sent me spiraling.
When I finally unlocked the door, the dimly lit apartment did nothing to raise my spirits. It looked just as gloomy as I felt.
My mother’s hospital room wasn’t much better, but at least there, I had her soft voice and the smell of lavender lotion to ground me.
Here, it was just... emptiness.
The pile of unopened mail on the counter taunted me. Grabbing the top envelope, I tore it open. As expected, it was another hospital bill.
Total due: $12,473.21
I dropped the paper, my stomach knotting. I’d been managing to scrape by with my savings and freelance gigs, but this? This was impossible.
Before I could keep beating myself up about it, my phone buzzed back one more time. I grabbed it from the counter with the intention of terminating whoever was on the other side, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I read the name.
Jared Marshall.
Just hearing the name was enough to cause my chest to constrict.
Jared was the right hand man of Ethan Steele, with an unsentimental and uncompromising style. He had a cold and calculating demeanor but was a nice guy overall.
But that wasn't why I froze.
I'd met Jared before. Briefly. At an industry gala over a year and a half ago.
Back then, I'd been a nervous wreck, a new employee eager to please and practically dragging myself through the evening, counting down the minutes until I could leave.
I hadn't expected anyone to notice me, let alone strike up a conversation.
But Jared had.
That night, I had no idea who he was or he was working for, I was too nervous to ask.
We'd ended up at the same bar, both desperate for an escape from the crowd.
He'd ordered whiskey, neat, and offered to buy me a drink. I'd refused at first, but then he told me to relax, and somehow, we'd ended up talking.
About everything and about nothing.
I closed my eyes as I remembered how his sharp, cold demeanor had thawed just a little by the time we clinked glasses.
How his eyes had locked almost too intently on mine, as if I was the only person present. It made me feel like I could do anything.
But then nothing had happened between us, because before it could, he was called away.
A couple months later, I saw him on the news, standing next to Ethan Steele, the arrogant yet most coveted bachelor and billionaire in the city.
I had been relieved nothing had happened between Jared and I after seeing that.
Against my better judgment, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Miss Blake," Jared, with a deep, commanding sound, on the phone. “I trust you’ve heard about Ethan Steele’s condition?”
“Wow you're still cold…”
There was a pause at the other end, and I could tell he was smiling. He rarely smiled, but that night, he'd smiled…
Even laughed.
“And you're no longer nervous. Very sharp tongue.” He retorted, his voice still firm but less formal.
I smiled. “Much better…now…”
“You have to say yes.” Jared cut in.
I groaned inwardly. “I’ve heard enough. If this is to take him up as a client, I already turned down the offer and the answer is no.”
There was a break and then Jared spoke and my heart skipped a beat. “What if I told you there was more at stake here than just a therapy contract?”
I hesitated. “I’m not interested in publicity stunts.”
“This isn’t a stunt,” Jared said evenly. “This is about preserving Ethan’s legacy. The board is circling like vultures, and if Ethan doesn’t show progress soon, he’ll lose everything he’s built. That’s why we need you.”
The sincerity in his tone caught me off guard, but I wasn’t ready to relent. “Why me? Surely you can afford the best therapists in the world.”
“We already have the best therapist in the world, " Jared said smoothly. “And she’s the one I’m speaking to.”
Flattery wasn’t going to work on me. “I appreciate the compliment, but I have personal obligations. I am not able to handle this kind of case right now.”
I didn't tell him what I really felt. That I didn't want to deal with Ethan. Estelle stories about him were all I wanted them to be. Stories.
“I understand your hesitation,” Jared said, his voice softening. What if I showed you how to eliminate all of your financial troubles in a single stroke?”
My grip tightened on the phone. “What are you talking about?”
“A contract,” he said. One that carries with it full payment of your mother's medical debt, plus bonuses. The only catch is that it involves more than therapy.”
I frowned, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”
Something was up.
“You’d have to marry Ethan.”
The words hit me like a freight train. For a moment, I was sure I’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
Then I threw my head back and laughed. This was a joke.
Has everyone gone mad today?
“It's a publicity stunt", Jared said, as if asking to marry a stranger was a perfectly good call. “The board needs to see Ethan as stable and rehabilitating. A wife would make him appear grounded, and your reputation would assure them he’s in the best hands.”
“This is insane,” I muttered, pacing my tiny kitchen. “You think I’m going to marry someone I’ve never met, let alone someone like Ethan Steele?”
“You wouldn’t be marrying him in the traditional sense,_ Jared said. “It’s a business arrangement. “You would live with him, care for him, and pretend to be a couple in good spirits. Once the situation stabilizes, you’re free to leave.”
I did want to giggle, but nothing was funny about any of this. “And what if I say no?”
How did I go from being a therapist to a wife?
There was a long silence before Jared spoke, "Well I hope you are ready to watch your mother's condition get worse while you wait for a miracle to make those payments.”
I froze. This was no longer funny. Who did he think he was?How dare he weaponize my mother’s health against me?
“How dare you? No. No way. I will not do it!” I heard myself yell.
“You have 24 hours to decide. Please think carefully about your decision” Jared said. “Consider what this has the potential to do for you, your mother, and your career.”
“Now, look here. You can tell Ethan Steele that—”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, doing my best to control the way my hands were shaking with anger. This couldn’t be real.
However, the pile of money on my counter begged to differ. It was real, and somehow I had a chance to clear all these debts and finally be free.
I had a chance to save my mother.
Clutching the silver necklace on my chest, I sank into a chair.
This was nuts. Everyone was nuts. Marry Ethan Steele? Live under the same roof as a crippled man known for his temper and arrogance?
I couldn't do it.
Yet, the alternative was even grimmer. It was either that or sink into the ground with debts, or probably lose my mother.
I swallowed hard, tears stinging
my eyes. How has my life come to this? Why was everything suddenly so hard?
Jared said I had a choice, but that was a lie.
I had no choice.
It was either this or death
(Amelia’s POV)“Amelia?”I stiffened the second I heard his voice.I’d gone back to the office against Ethan’s warnings, telling myself it was just to pick up files, just to remind myself I still had control over my life. But of course he was here. Leo always managed to be where I didn’t want him.He leaned against the doorframe of my office with his arms crossed over his chest, a casual smirk tugging at his mouth.“You shouldn’t be here,” I snapped, standing behind my desk like the wood between us could protect me.“You’re one to talk,” he said. “Didn’t your husband tell you to stay home? Rest? Put your feet up? Everyone says you are on leave.”I clenched my jaw. “Don’t bring Ethan into this.”“Why not? He’s the reason you’re hiding.” Leo stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. “But here you are, back where you belong. Back with me.”I pointed at him, hand shaking. “Don’t twist this. I came for my work. My patients. Not for you.”His expression tightened for h
Amelia’s POVI wasn’t expecting anyone. Ethan had texted an hour ago saying he’d be late, something about cleaning up a mess Ryan left at the office. The apartment was too quiet, so I had Netflix playing just for background noise while I half-dozed on the couch.Then the doorbell rang.I frowned, pushing myself up. It was late and definitely way too late for deliveries. My first thought was Ethan forgot his key. My second thought was worse. Leo.I padded to the door, barefoot, pulling my hoodie tighter around me. When I opened it, my stomach dropped.“Dr. Marks?”He stood there in the hallway, hands shoved into his coat pockets. He looked… different. Thinner, hair unkempt, eyes darting around like he hadn’t slept in days. His tie was crooked, his shirt wrinkled like he’d pulled it from the bottom of a suitcase.“Amelia,” he said with a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure it was my name. “You look… well. You look alive.”I gripped the edge of the door. “Where have you been? You disappear
(Amelia’s POV)It was almost three in the morning when my stomach decided to revolt against me. I woke up with a craving so bizarre that even I laughed out loud in the dark.Pickles. And vanilla ice cream. Together.I lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, debating whether I should just drink some water and try to ignore it. But then I imagined the crunch of a pickle dunked into soft ice cream, and suddenly water wasn’t going to cut it.I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, tiptoeing toward the kitchen.“Where are you going?” Ethan’s groggy voice startled me.I spun around. He was sitting up, hair sticking out like a scarecrow’s, rubbing at his face. His tie from last night was still draped over the lamp where he’d tossed it.“Nothing,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”“Nothing? You’re creeping around at three A.M. like a burglar.” He squinted at me. “You’re not leaving me for another man, are you?”“Not unless that man is a jar of pickles,” I said.That woke him up a l
Sienna’s POVI kicked off my heels the second I stepped into Veronica’s penthouse. Well, Ethan's father's…along with the estate, she also got most of his properties.The place smelled like expensive perfume and fresh lilies, like always. She had a taste for making every room feel like a showroom instead of a home.She didn’t even look up when I stormed in. Just sat on her cream sofa with a glass of wine, scrolling her phone.“Seriously?” I snapped. “I texted you three times. This is important.”Veronica sighed, finally setting the phone aside. “Everything’s important to you, darling. Sit down.”“I don’t want to sit down.” My voice cracked, more desperate than I liked. “I need your help.”That got her attention. She leaned back, one leg crossing elegantly over the other. “With what, exactly?”“Ethan,” I said.Her lips curved in that knowing way I hated. “Ah. Of course.”I paced, running my fingers through my hair. “He won’t even look at me anymore. Not the way he used to. She’s got him
Amelia’s POV"tell me, Amelia...who?"Ethan’s hand closed around mine, gentle but firm, holding my wrist up in the low light.The bruise was angry now, blooming dark against my skin. His jaw tightened as he stared at it.“Who did this to you?” he asked again, quieter this time, but sharper.My throat dried up. For a second, I thought about lying. Pretending I’d slipped, or hit it against something. But the way he was looking at me—I couldn’t.I pulled my hand back and stepped away from the railing. “We should sit.”“Amelia.”“Please,” I whispered.We sat on one of the lounge chairs tucked into the balcony corner. My hands twisted in my lap, my chest tight. He was still watching me, waiting, his face set in stone.“It was him,” I said finally. “Leo.”The name seemed to freeze the air between us. Ethan didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Just stared at me.“He found me today when I went for a walk,” I went on. “He wanted to talk. I tried to leave. He grabbed me.” I lifted my wrist again, forci
(Ethan’s POV)Ryan had called three times in a row before I finally picked up.“Don’t pretend you forgot,” he said. “It’s my birthday. You and Amelia are coming.”I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Ryan, the last time we were in the same room we nearly killed each other.”He chuckled like that wasn’t true. “That’s family tradition. Look, I booked out the top floor of the club. Open bar. Music. Everyone will be there. Don’t make me send Veronica to drag you.”Amelia was across the room, folding laundry. She raised her eyebrows when I mouthed birthday party?She shrugged. “We should go.”So we went.****The private club was already buzzing when we arrived. Music thumped from the upper level, expensive perfume mixed with whiskey in the air. I guided Amelia through the crowd with a hand on her back. She looked incredible in a dark green dress that hugged her figure. Too incredible, if I’m honest.Ryan spotted us first, already holding a drink. “There he is! My big brother finally shows up