Amelia Hart Author Novels & Stories

She turned her head to glance at me. "I will never, not anymore despite how much that I wish for that but I gave you my word. If that is the oy way to be by your side then I will never run back to him," "We still can't be together," "Amelia," "Not when you care not about the innocent people, the same blood flows in you," she scorned. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I cleared my throat, "What are you talking about?" "You know how much I care about the safety of people,"

"Does Nina have any enemies? Any reason someone would break in and take her things?" Amelia shook her head, "No, she keeps to herself mostly. She's a software developer, and she's a brilliant coder. She can hack any computer defense at the drop of a hat, but she hasn't been working on anything..." She trailed off and looked like she was going to cry, "What?" I inquired desperately. "The only thing she's been working on outside of her day job is trying to get past MID's firewalls. She took it on as a side project to help us out. This is my fault," Amelia answered, guilt lacing her voice.

"Where are we going?" "You'll see. I've packed for you. I hope that was okay." "I guess. Since I don't know what weather we're packing for then I guess I'm glad you did." Amelia rose and got ready for her day, even if she didn't know what was happening. She trusted Alex and he'd been more attentive than usual since the warehouse. Did he feel guilty? He hadn't done anything to inspire the Agostinos' actions. She had done more to poke that bear. At least she was able to get some evidence against them when she'd hacked them.

Little Haven would love to explore your vision for our center. My brows shot up. I clicked into the message. Sure enough, it was a formal invitation to collaborate on the architectural design. Me. They wanted me. A slow smirk tugged at my lips. They didn’t know Amelia Hartwell, former almost-bride to Tristan Lancaster. They knew Vera Calloway. Award-winning minimalist architect. I’d started my own company during college. My father refused to believe in me, so I hid behind a false name. And somehow, more and more clients had been finding their way to me.

“I won’t rest until he is.” She reached for my hand. “I know you’re doing everything you can to find him and keep us safe. I’ll talk to my mom, and convince her to stay.” I squeezed her hand. “I love you. I need to take a shower. Charlie’s coming over this morning.” “I’ll be heading to Hayley’s,” Amelia said as she stood, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m taking Misty with me.” “Please, take more than two guards,” I urged.

The door clicked shut behind Amelia as the rain picked up, heavy drops slicing through the night. The city glistened in the downpour, streetlights flickering like bruised stars. She didn’t stop to call a driver. She didn’t want the silent tension of a Blackwell car or the suffocating walls of the penthouse. She just walked. Her shoes splashed through puddles, her breath sharp in her throat. She stopped a taxi and got in. For the first time in weeks, she wasn’t Amelia Blackwell. Just Amelia Hart. Just a girl in a jacket and soaked heels, running from a life she wasn’t sure she belonged to.

The entire room seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent standoff. Amelia looked just as shocked as he felt. Ryan had expected executives, lawyers, investors. He had not expected his ex-wife—the woman who had left his penthouse with a single suitcase, the woman he had dismissed as ordinary, the woman who apparently owned a significant piece of an empire he had never known existed. Someone cleared their throat. The spell broke. Introductions resumed, hands were shaken, and the meeting lurched back into motion. Ryan barely heard any of it. His mind raced with a single consuming question: Who exactly was Amelia Hart?

Chapter 3: The Bride Who Was Never Chosen “Who exactly did the Hart family send me?” Ominous Silence swallowed the room as Amelia stood frozen near the entrance, her fingers curling tightly against the fabric of her dress. Across from her, Alexander Sterling held the slim engagement file loosely in one hand. He had his Cold gray eyes fixed on her. It was Sharp,Calculating and as usual Dangerously calm. Beside her, Richard Hart suddenly laughed too quickly and there was no doubt a hint of nervousness accompanied the laughter

Turning away from him I tried to open the door and get out. As soon as I got out, my knees gave up. Taking the support of the car I stood up. I heard the door opposite slam shut and Damien coming out, "Get back inside." I looked at him, "So that you can tell me what all lies you told me? No, thank you." He ran his hand frustratedly through his hair. Then looking up at the sky he said, " It is going to rain, Li. Just get inside. Please." "No! You don't get to call me that anymore. I hate it. My name is Amelia. It's Amelia. And nothing else."

, a thousand thoughts started flooding Amelia’s mind. Like Sarah, Amelia too was using a pseudonym, ‘Daffodil’ in the books she wrote for Dr Torres publishing house. Unlike Sarah who wrote fiction, Amelia wrote only four cookbooks for the publishing house documenting the traditional British recipes of rural Britain that her grandmother who hailed from a countryside in Great Britain had taught her. Amelia had met Peter in the publishing house and he had swept her over with his suave looks and refined manners.