AMELIA
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked like a countdown. She sat on the edge of the leather chair, back straight, fingers clenched in her lap. Her father had called her into his office suddenly, his tone clipped, and she already knew this wasn't going to be good. The room smelled of polished wood and cigar smoke, a shrine to the kind of power her father clung to.
He stood behind the massive oak desk, his hands braced on its surface, as if the furniture was the only thing keeping him upright. For the first time, he looked…old.
The sharp lines of his tailored suit couldn't hide the weariness in his shoulders.
"I don't have time for games, Father," she said, breaking the silence. "What's this about?"
He lifted his head, his jaw tightening. "This isn't a negotiation, Amelia. It's about the survival of this family."
Her heart sank. She had heard those words before, every time he needed to justify his mistakes. "What did you do now?"
Her father's gaze flickered, guilt buried under defiance. "This isn't my fault. You know how volatile the markets have been.
The investments didn't pan out, and-"
"Oh, spare me," she interrupted, rising to her feet. "Just admit it. You gambled everything, and now you've lost. Again."
"Watch your tone," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to slice through the air. But there was no real bite behind it. Just desperation.
She crossed her arms, standing firm.
"What do you want from me, then? A loan?
A magic wand? Because last time I checked, I wasn't the one making reckless deals with people who want to see us crash and burn."
For a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally straightened. "There's a way out," he said slowly, deliberately. "But it requires your cooperation."
She froze, suspicion creeping in like a shadow. "What kind of cooperation?"
His answer came like a punch to the gut.
"You're getting married."
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Excuse me?"
"This is bigger than you, Amelia," he said, his voice low but firm. "If we want to keep this family afloat, we need an alliance. A strong one. And the only way to secure that is through marriage."
"To who?" she demanded, heat rising in her cheeks. "Some ancient family friend?
Or is this about someone new in your growing list of creditors?"
He stepped out from behind the desk, his expression hardening. "He's a businessman. Powerful, connected, someone who can give us the stability we need. This will save us."
"Save you," she corrected, the venom in her voice unmistakable. "And what about me? Do I get a say, or is my life officially up for auction now?"
His lips thinned. "You don't understand the stakes.
You think you can just walk away from this? You can't. Everything we have— everything you have-will be gone if we don't do this."
Her chest tightened. She wanted to shout, to tell him exactly what she thought of his latest scheme, but something in his face stopped her. This wasn't just desperation.
It was fear.
"Who is he?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
He hesitated, just long enough for unease to coil in her stomach. "His name is Damien. Damien Black."
The name meant nothing to her, but the look in her father's eyes did. He was hiding something, and whatever it was, she had the sinking feeling it wasn't good.
"I'm not doing this," she said firmly, stepping toward the door. "I don't care who he is or how much money he has. You can't just sell me off like some… some bargaining chip."
"You don't have a choice," her father called after her, his voice cutting through her resolve. "This isn't about what you want.
It's about what this family needs."
She stopped, her hand hovering over the doorknob, her body trembling with anger.
"Maybe you should've thought about that before you gambled everything away."
She stormed out, her father's voice chasing her down the hall, but she refused to stop. He could force her to walk down the aisle, but he couldn't force her to care.