Amelia

“Amelia, we need to talk… I can explain.” Richard said from behind the closed door of my bedroom.

“Go away, Richard, I don't want to see you or talk,” I said tearily, my voice muffled by the pillow I cried into.

“It's not what you think, it's not like.”

“Oh really, then what is it then, What! There is a freaking Ultrasound scan, what in the world am I supposed to believe.”I screamed at him.

“Amelia __”

“Go away Richard, I've had it with your lies, just go away!.”

That was two days ago, since then I've barely existed. It's funny how your whole life just came down in the blink of an eye, I was a fool, a big one, I saw the signs but I refused to believe it, now look where it landed me.

The world outside was a blur of lights and noise as I stepped into the dimly lit bar. It wasn’t the kind of place I usually frequented, tonight I didn’t care. I needed an escape, a reprieve from the storm of emotions raging inside me.

Sliding onto a stool at the bar, I ordered the strongest drink they had. The bartender raised an eyebrow but obliged, sliding a tumbler of amber liquid my way.

I downed it in one gulp, the burn of the whiskey doing little to dull the ache in my chest. Richard’s betrayal played on a loop in my mind—his whispered conversations with Cindy, the scent of her perfume lingering on his clothes, the ultrasound photo with her name on it.

I signaled for another drink. then another, and another, the bartender was beginning to give me the stinking eye, but I didn't care.

I just wanted this ache to go away.

“That’s quite the pace you’re setting,” a deep voice remarked from beside me.

I glanced up to see a tall man in a tailored black suit. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and his piercing blue eyes studied me with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“What’s it to you?” I muttered, taking another sip.

“Just an observation,” he replied, sliding onto the stool next to mine. “Though, if you keep going like this, you’ll regret it in the morning.”

“I already regret a lot of things,” I said, swirling the liquid in my glass.

He signaled the bartender and ordered a drink for himself. “Fair enough. But drinking yourself into oblivion won’t fix them.”

“Maybe not,” I replied, my voice thick with sarcasm. “At least it helps me forget. Temporarily.”

He studied me for a moment before speaking. “Sometimes it’s better to face things head-on. You seem like someone who’s strong enough to do that.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’d like to.”

His tone was calm, reassuring, and strangely disarming.

For the first time that night, I felt the edge of my anger soften.

“I’m Amelia,” I said after a pause, not sure why I was telling him my name.

“Nicholas,” he replied, offering a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Amelia . Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Me too.”

Or maybe not, because if it were still under better circumstances, I wouldn't be here, I wouldn't get to meet him.

We talked for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was minutes—I couldn’t tell anymore. I told him about my frustration, my doubts, my hurt, though I stopped short of mentioning Richard or Cindy by name.

He listened intently, nodding at the right moments, his gaze never wavering.

“You deserve better,” he said at one point, his voice firm but gentle. “Whatever—or whoever—is making you feel this way... you deserve more than that.”

Something about his words, the conviction behind them, struck a chord. For so long, I had felt invisible, discarded by the man who was supposed to love me. But here was a stranger, someone who didn’t know my story, reminding me of my worth.

By the time Nicholas offered to drive me home, I wasn’t entirely sober, but I wasn’t drunk enough to refuse. He somehow managed to stop me from drinking my boots off.

He helped me into his sleek black car, his hand steadying me as I stumbled slightly.

The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence.

“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice soft and a little bit slurred.

“For what?” he asked, glancing at me.

“For... being kind. For listening.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re welcome.”

When we reached my building, he walked me to the door, making sure I was steady on my feet.

“Take care of yourself, Amelia ,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“I’ll try,” I replied, offering a weak smile before stepping inside.

The penthouse was dark and silent when I entered. The table from our anniversary dinner was still set, the melted candles and untouched food a haunting reminder of what should have been.

“Richard?” I called out, though I already knew the answer.

The emptiness of the house confirmed it. He was gone—again. Likely with her.

I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands. This wasn’t a life. This wasn’t love.

And at that moment, I made my decision.

I wouldn’t stay. I wouldn’t let Richard’s betrayal define me.

---

The next morning, my phone buzzed with a message from Richard.

We need to talk. Meet me at the office at noon. It’s about the future—with Cindy.

The words were like a slap, but they only solidified my resolve.

It was time to end this once and for all.

Amelia

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the unmade bed. My head throbbed faintly from last night’s whiskey, but it wasn’t the alcohol that weighed me down. It was the text message from Richard, still glowing on my phone.

We need to talk. Meet me at the office at noon. It’s about the future—with Cindy.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the coolness of the hardwood floor grounding me as my mind churned. The message felt more like a command than a request, as if Richard still thought he held all the cards.

For years, I had been the polished, supportive wife, standing quietly by his side as he built his empire. Now, everything was crumbling, and Richard didn’t seem to care that I was caught in the wreckage.

No more.

I stood and walked to the mirror. My reflection stared back at me—disheveled, tired, depressed, but with a spark of determination. I couldn’t let him see how much this was breaking me.

I showered, dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged my curves but exuded confidence, and pulled my hair into a neat chignon. If Richard wanted to talk about the future, I’d show him exactly what he was losing.

The towering glass facade of Montgomery Industries glinted in the midday sun as I stepped out of the car. My heels clicked against the polished floors of the lobby, each step steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

When I reached Richard’s office, his assistant gave me a tight smile, her eyes darting away quickly as if she knew more than she let on.

“He’s expecting you,” she said, motioning toward the door.

I walked in without knocking. Richard stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette sharp against the city skyline. He turned as I entered, and for a moment, there was something in his expression—regret, maybe?—before it disappeared, replaced by his usual composed facade.

“You're late,” He said.

“I wasn't aware I was supposed to stick to the time.” I fired back.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice calm, measured. “Thank you for coming.”

“I didn’t come for you,” I said, crossing my arms. “I came for clarity.”

He sighed and gestured toward the sleek leather chairs in front of his desk. “Please, sit. This doesn’t have to be hostile.”

“I’ll stand,” I replied curtly.

Richard hesitated but nodded, as though he expected nothing less.

“I wanted to talk about how we move forward,” he began. “With everything out in the open now, it’s important to establish boundaries—for Cindy, for the child, and for us.”

The casual way he spoke, as though we were negotiating a business deal, made my blood boil.

“Boundaries?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You had no problem crossing them when you decided to sleep with her, Richard.”

He flinched but recovered quickly. “I made a mistake. But it doesn’t change the fact that this child will need stability. Cindy needs support—”

“And what about me?” I interrupted. “Do I not need stability? Do I not deserve support after everything you’ve put me through?”

Richard’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m trying to make this right, Amelia .”

“Right?” I laughed bitterly. “You think dragging me into this mess and expecting me to play along makes it right?”

“I never wanted this to happen,” he said, his voice softening. “But it’s happened, and we have to deal with it.”

“No, Richard,” I said, stepping closer. “You have to deal with it. I’m done cleaning up your messes and pretending everything is fine. I won’t be a part of this charade anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, what? You’re just going to walk away?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “I deserve better than this—better than you.”

For the first time, Richard looked genuinely shaken. “Amelia , don’t do this. We can work through it. You’re my wife—”

“Was,” I corrected. “I was your wife. You made your choice the moment you brought her into our lives.”

The silence between us was deafening as I turned and walked toward the door. My hand trembled as I reached for the handle, but I refused to let him see it.

“Amelia,” Richard called after me, his voice tinged with desperation.

I paused but didn’t look back.

“I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” I said to him and then stepped out into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind me.

Back in the car, I exhaled shakily, the weight of the confrontation finally hitting me. My phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

You don’t know me, but I’d like to talk. It’s about Montgomery Industries and your future.It was signed: Nicholas de vincente.

For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of something other than anger or sadness. It was curiosity.

Amelia

The message had been brief and unsettling:

You don’t know me, but I’d like to talk. It’s about Montgomery Industries and your future.

I’d stared at the words for a long moment, debating whether to ignore it. But the sender’s mention of Richard’s company lingered, tempting me to respond.

Curiosity won.

The address in the message led me to an exclusive private lounge in the heart of the city. The kind of place where billionaires broker deals over expensive scotch and cigar smoke hung in the air like an unspoken pact of secrecy.

I entered cautiously, the opulence of the space almost suffocating. A sleek hostess greeted me with a professional smile, and before I could even give my name, she gestured toward a secluded booth in the back.

“He’s waiting for you,” she said.

I swallowed hard, nerves prickling at the base of my neck as I approached.

And there he was.

Nicholas de vincente.

I froze for a moment, my mind racing. The man from the bar—the one who had stopped me from drowning my sorrows in whiskey—was seated casually in the booth, his dark suit tailored to perfection and his piercing blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.

“You,” I said, my voice betraying my surprise.

He stood as I approached, offering a small smile that was equal parts charming and disarming. “We meet again, Amelia . Please, sit.”

I hesitated, every instinct screaming that this was a bad idea. But I was curious—and perhaps the memory of his kindness at the bar—drove me to slide into the booth opposite him.

“You’re the one who sent the message?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

“I am,” he said smoothly, signaling a waiter to bring over two glasses of wine.

“And you know about Richard?”

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, maybe. “I know quite a bit about Richard. More than you might think.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why don’t you start with why I’m here?”

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving mine. “Montgomery Industries isn’t the pristine empire it pretends to be. Richard’s been playing dirty for years—cutting corners, laundering money, and using Cindy as a front for most of it.”

I felt my breath catch, but I kept my face neutral.

He continued, his voice low and steady, “She’s more than just his mistress.”

Tell me about it.

“Cindy’s involvement goes far deeper—funneling funds into shell corporations, manipulating contracts, and covering up scandals.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve to know the truth,” he said simply.

“Do I?” I asked, folding my arms. “Or do you just want to use me for whatever vendetta you have against Richard?”

Nicholas’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t lie and say I don’t have my reasons. Richard and I have crossed paths more times than I care to count, and let’s just say he’s not on my list of favorite people.”

“Then why involve me?”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw something that almost looked like sincerity. “Because I see you, Amelia . You’re not just some trophy wife or pawn in his game. You’ve built your own reputation—your charity work, your influence in the company’s legal affairs. And yet he’s cast you aside like you’re nothing.”

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.

“You deserve more than this,” Nicholas said, leaning forward slightly. “You deserve to be more than the collateral damage in Richard’s mess.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated how much they resonated with me.

He straightened, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “I’m offering you a way out. Work with me, Amelia . Together, we can bring Richard’s empire to its knees.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his proposal. “You want me to betray him?”

“Consider it justice,” he said, his expression unreadable. “For everything he’s done—to you, to others.”

“And what do you get out of this?”

Nicholas’s smile returned, a hint of mischief in it this time. “The satisfaction of seeing Montgomery Industries fall. And maybe... the chance to work alongside someone I admire.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, charged with unspoken tension.

“I don’t trust you,” I said finally, my voice firm despite the doubt gnawing at me.He chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, think about it, Amelia . This is your chance to take control of your story.”

I stood, needing to put distance between us. Nicholas rose as well, his tall frame looming but not imposing.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s all I ask.”

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.

“Amelia,” he said, and when I looked back, his gaze was softer, almost vulnerable. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t forget that.”

I didn’t respond, but his words lingered as I stepped out into the cool night air.