Chapter 7 CHAPTER SEVEN

The ride home blurred past me in streaks of city lights and tinted glass. My head rested against the window, eyes on the world outside, though I saw none of it. My body sat in Damian’s sleek black town car, but my mind… it was still in that garden.

Adrian’s laugh lingered. The softness in his eyes when they met mine, the way his hand steadied me, none of it would let me go. It was dangerous, the way my chest tightened at the thought of him. Risky, because I knew what it meant.

I should have shaken it off and reminded myself that Damian would never forgive such a betrayal. But the memory clung like perfume, sweet and stubborn. And God help me, I didn’t want it to fade.

By the time the car pulled into the driveway of the penthouse, guilt was pressing against my ribs. The guards opened the door; their faces blank, professional. I slipped past them with a polite smile, heels clicking against marble.

The chandelier glittered, flowers crowned the center of the lobby, and everything gleamed. Luxury everywhere. But inside, I felt emptier than the silence echoing off the walls.

In the elevator, I kicked off my shoes, relief spilling through me. When the doors opened, I slipped into the penthouse, city lights painting silver patterns across the white sofas. I didn’t bother with lamps. My dress still clung to me as I fell onto the bed.

And I let myself imagine.

What if it had been Adrian I married? A man who smiled at me the way he did in that garden? What if my nights weren’t filled with silence but with warmth, laughter… maybe even love?

Cruel thoughts. Sweet in their torture, because they gave me what I could never have.

Stop it, Amelia. It’s betrayal.

But exhaustion won. My body sagged into the mattress, my mind drowning in guilt and longing until sleep dragged me under.

Dreams weren’t kind. Damian’s storm-grey eyes cut through one moment, Adrian’s warmth filled the next. I woke tangled in both fear and yearning.

Then the shrill ring of my phone split the morning.

Dad.

My chest tightened. He hadn’t called once since the wedding. To him, I was already useful, the pawn played, the deal sealed. Why now?

The phone buzzed relentlessly. I stared at it, frozen. The call cut off only to start again. My fingers fumbled, pulse racing, before I swiped.

“Dad?” My voice cracked.

“What the hell have you done, Amelia?”

His roar slammed into me. My throat went dry.

“I I....I don’t—”

“Don’t play stupid!” His words lashed like whips. “Do you know the mess you’ve caused? The Blackwoods are calling me, the press is circling, and you—” His breath hitched, seething. “You’re trending, Amelia. Do you even know what that means?”

My stomach plummeted. Trending?

“I don’t understand...”

“You don’t understand?” he bellowed. “You think you can flirt with Adrian Blackwood and no one notices? Do you think cameras won’t see?”

The name hit me like a slap. Adrian. The garden. The flash.

“No,” I whispered, hand trembling. “No, Dad, it’s not...”

“It doesn’t matter what it was!” His voice sharpened, brutal. “It matters what it looks like! And right now, it looks like my daughter can’t even keep her reputation intact. Do you understand what this means for me? For everything I’ve built?”

His fury sliced through me, merciless. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t care.

“Fix it!” he thundered. “Before Damian decides you’re not worth the trouble.”

The line went dead.

I sat frozen, phone shaking in my hands, breaths shallow. The flash in the garden hadn’t been a ghost. Someone had been there. Someone had taken that picture.

The silence pressed down heavily until the phone buzzed again.

Mom.

My throat tightened. She hadn’t called once either, not since the wedding. Not until now.

I hesitated, but answered.

“Amelia,” her voice came sharp, then softened falsely. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

For a second, I wanted to believe her. But the strain beneath her tone betrayed her. She wasn’t worried about me. She was concerned about the name.

“You’re only calling me now?” My words cracked. “Not once since the wedding. But suddenly now, when it’s in the headlines, you care?”

“Amelia, don’t start this. This isn’t the time...”

“No,” I snapped, voice breaking. “This is exactly the time. You sold me off to cover Dad’s debts. You never cared about me. You care about what people see.”

Silence hung heavy.

When she spoke again, her voice was colder. “You made your choice when you married Damian. This is your bed, lie in it. But fix this before you drag us all into ruin.”

The line cut off.

Tears burned, but I held them back, my hand trembling as I unlocked the phone.

And then my world collapsed.

Instagram overflowed with tags, DMs, and comments. Headlines screamed across blogs:

Blackwood Bride spotted in an intimate moment with Adrian Blackwood.

Did Amelia marry the wrong brother?

The photo, grainy but damning, was everywhere. Adrian’s hand steadied me, our faces tilted too close, eyes locked. Intimate. Scandalous.

The comments were knives:

“She looks happier with Adrian than with Damian.”

“Poor girl, stuck in a loveless marriage.”

“Scandal in the Blackwood dynasty, ty this is better than TV.”

“Slut.”

The last word lodged like a blade. My breath hitched, my chest burning.

The phone buzzed again, in Sophia. Relief rushed through me as I answered.

“Amelia!” Her voice was frantic, warm. “Oh my God, are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”

Her concern cracked something in me. “No,” I whispered. “No, I’m not okay.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Her tone softened. “I saw the picture. They’re twisting it. But it wasn’t what they thought, was it?”

“It wasn’t. But… I felt something, Soph. Just for a second. And now...”

“Now they’re tearing you apart for it,” she finished. “Listen, this isn’t your fault. You’ve been trapped in a cage since the wedding. Anyone would crack under that pressure. You’re human, Amelia. You’re allowed to feel.”

A sob broke free. “Damian won’t see it that way.”

“Damian doesn’t see you at all,” she whispered fiercely. “That’s the problem. But you’re not alone. You still have me.”

Her words soothed like balm, even as fear churned. “I’m scared, Soph. He’ll kill me for this. Not with his hands, but with his silence. With the way he can make me disappear even when I’m right in front of him.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”

I pressed my palm to my chest, holding myself together. For a fragile moment, I believed her.

Then another buzz. A message. Four words.

We need to talk. Now.

Damian.

The air left my lungs. My hand shook violently as I stared at the screen.

“Amelia?” Sophia’s voice was faint, drowned beneath the roar in my ears.

I couldn’t answer.

Because at that moment, I heard the heavy click of the penthouse door unlocking.

The sound echoed through the silence like a gun cocking, final, inevitable.

He was here.