CONRAD

A year and half away, and now I was finally back home. I was back to the very place I despised.

The same place that made me go to a rehabilitation centre for a year and half. It's strange how, despite everything my father did to me, he still wanted me to take over his company.

But of course it's because I was the only person available for now and it would never be free. I could take over his company only if I married within a certain period.

"Remember that everything you own is mine," he had once said.

Well, now that he has given me his company to manage, I planned to leave my mark everywhere until my father's name became nothing but a memory.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I remained standing by the window in my large bedroom, my gaze fixed on the gardener outside. Such lazy humans.

The sky was clear, its blue hues casting a bright glow in my room. It was peaceful.

"Come in," I said, my voice sharp and low.

The door slowly opened and Mr Colton Garrett, my personal assistant stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

"Young master," he said, his voice low. I turned, narrowing my eyes. "Don't call me that!" I said, my voice a low command. "I am Conrad Pierre."

He stepped back slightly, his hands folded behind him. "My apologies."

I sighed, settling down on a chair by the window. "Your father instructed me to ask you if your wedding will still be done in five days' time."

I leaned back, shutting my eyes for a few seconds. "The date hasn't been changed. The wedding will go on."

"Do you know the bride? Have you seen her before?"

"It doesn't matter Colton. She is a substitute and the secret will remain between us."

There was a brief silence before Colton spoke. "What about... your therapist, Conrad?"

I arched my brows, looking at him. "What about him?"

He cleared his throat, his hands still folded. "You haven't visited for a while and Mr Pierre will not take it lightly if he finds out."

I exhaled, standing up, my jaw tight. "I don't need therapy anymore. My father put me in rehabilitation for years. What more does he want?"

My hands were clenched, my mood dark as I walked to Colton. "I'm not going back there, Colton. Never."

He stared at me, his stance strong. He wasn't scared of me. He didn't see me as someone that needed therapy. Or maybe he did. He had taken care of me since childhood so he knew everything about me.

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked, his voice calm.

"Tell him to go on a trip for a very long time and if father asks, tell him the therapist dismissed me as stable."

He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped. "Your bandage is bleeding. Do you want me to change it?"

I glanced at my wrist, sighing. "I'll handle it myself. Leave!" He left the room and shut the door, the sound a faint thud.

When he was gone, I collapsed on my chair, taking off the bandage from my wrist.

The fabric peeled away, revealing a sight that made my stomach churn. It was a raw, angry red, the skin around the wound still swollen and tender. It wasn't just a wound. It was an ugly festering thing that would undoubtedly leave a thick scar, a permanent testament to my father's affection for me.

"A welcome home gift," he had said a month ago, a grin on his face. I had just gotten back, still reeling from the rehabilitation journey when he had welcomed me.

I could still remember his eyes glinting with that familiar predatory amusement.

His words had haunted me before I left for my therapy sessions. "Never return to that little weakling you were years ago."

I hated myself for the weakling I was as a child. I hated my younger self. I hated being reminded of how I was then. And that little kid was a mirror of how weak I was then. The one I had seen at the hospital the previous day. I hated that kid who had stared back at me through the child's innocent eyes. I hated how he looked. And I hoped never to see him again.

*************************************

AMELIA

Days had passed since my job search began. Four days of endless searching and it yielded nothing. Some of the hospitals I went to called me. Only to tell me I didn't get the job or pass the interview.

When I had brought up Xander's offer to my parents that night, I hoped they would agree. Xander wasn't perfect, but his proposition felt like a lifetime, a way to escape the suffocating pressure and fear for Noah's future.

I laid it out, carefully, trying to make it sound reasonable. My mother's face crumpled in disbelief, then solidified into an expression of utter disapproval. My father, who had been listening silently, slammed his fist on the table.

"Absolutely not!" he roared, his voice shaking the quiet air. "Don't ever think about doing that. It is Conrad Pierre or no one else."

My shoulder sank and my fragile hope shattered, leaving behind a cold, empty ache

Since then, I hadn't bothered talking to them again. Just as I put my son to sleep and was about to lie down, a soft knock sounded on my door.

Thinking it would be my brother, Aiden again, I took out my pocket knife and went to open the door. I was surprised to see my father standing there, his face calm. I told him to enter inside and he did.

"We've talked about Xander, and that's not an option," he began, his gaze serious as we settled down. "We already made the deal with Conrad Pierre and he will not spare us if he finds out we opt out from the deal."

I stared at him, my heart slowly breaking to shards. They already made the deal with him. Without informing me, again.

He then leaned forward, his eyes earnest. He glanced at my son and was about to touch him, but I held his hand midway, my mood dark. He pulled his hand back, sensing my disapproval.

"Think about Noah, Amelia. Think about his life and future. Do you want him to grow up struggling? Or to worry about where his next food will come from? Conrad can give both of you a good and stable life. A life you can't provide right now, not on your own."

I glared at him, my lips quivering. "But Xander is ready to provide that for me and also invest in your company. Or you just want it to be Conrad and no one else. You're practically selling me off to him."

He stood up, his mood changing. "This discussion is over! You're getting married to Conrad tomorrow." He said and left my room, not glancing back once.

I sighed, collapsing on the bed. Tomorrow. It will happen tomorrow. I will be a substitute bride tomorrow.

AMELIA

The night was a blur of restless tossing and turning, and before I knew it, the first pale silver of dawn pierced through the curtains. It wasn't 'tomorrow' anymore. It was 'today'. My wedding day. And it had arrived with a brutal speed.

A dull, grey sky pressed down on the city, mirroring the dullness on my body. It felt like the world itself was sad for me.

I dragged myself out of bed, my limbs feeling weighted. "Maybe everything would change and the wedding will not take place," I muttered.

Noah was still fast asleep when I went into the shower. The hot water did little to wash away the chill in my soul, not the dread in my heart. I stayed under the shower, motionless, the water draining me.

After a long and gloomy shower, I stepped out, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel. Just then, a knock echoed at the door. I paused, staring at the door.

"Who's there?" I asked, clutching the towel on my body.

"Miss Amelia, it's Mrs Mabel," she said. I scoffed at the mention of 'miss'. In a few hours, that title will be changed to a dreadful one. She was the grim faced housekeeper my father had appointed to look after me.

"The designer is here for you," she announced, her voice devoid of warmth, as if this was merely another transaction. "Should I let her in?"

Great. They could still hire a personal designer for me. This was what they wanted. The transaction went as far as hiring a designer for me for the wedding. 'Their dream come true'. After selling me off.

"Yes," I said, my voice barely audible.

A young woman with an overly enthusiastic smile entered inside, carrying several garment bags and a large makeup kit.

"Good day, Miss Amelia," she greeted, her voice soft. "Your father instructed me to help you out." I stared at her, not uttering a word. My father. Of course it would be him. Not my mother. There was no use refusing her. She was instructed to do it after all.

"Sure, you can begin," I said, my voice suddenly hoarse. I slowly sat down on a chair beside my wardrobe, waiting for her to begin.

She smiled, keeping her things aside and beginning her work with practiced efficiency. She powered my face, blended shadowy hues onto my eyelids, and meticulously lined my lips.

I sat still, a mannequin, while she transformed my grief stricken features into something vaguely bridal. My thoughts became lost in the deafening silence of my despair.

When she finally held up a mirror, I met my own reflection. This wasn't me. It was a carefully constructed facade. My image was flawless, yet devoid of life.

"Momma?" A small voice broke through the heavy silence. Noah stood behind me, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his pyjamas rumpled. He stepped closer, his gaze wide.

"Momma, you look... beautiful," he said, his words unclear but understandable. "You're pwetty."

I smiled, bringing him closer to me. If only he knew his life would change from today. Our lives would change from today.

Minutes after the designer left, I slipped into the elegant, bold, white gown that was laid out for me. The lace felt like thorns as I put it on.

Just then, a knock sounded on my door and Xander entered inside. The moment he saw me, he froze, his gaze wide.

"Xander!" I called after seconds of his motionless state. He looked at me, his face etched with... sadness? I couldn't decipher.

"Amelia," he said, his voice low and cracking. "You're going through with the marriage? You'll get married today?"

"Y-yes Xander," I said, looking at him. He tucked his hands in his pants pockets, looking at the floor.

"Why... umm.. why did you decide to go ahead with it? I mean you told me your parents didn't agree to my offer, but still, why did you agree?"

I stared at him, my heart racing. "No wasn't an option for me. I tried but... it wouldn't have changed anything. I had to think about Noah's life too."

He nodded, still staring at the floor. "Right. Noah's life is important. He needs to be happy and not worry about anything when he grows."

He pouted his mouth and wiped his eyes. I could tell something was wrong. I went closer to him, brushing his waves away from his face so I could see clearly.

"Are you okay, Xander?" I asked.

He looked up at me, a faint smile crossing his lips. "Yeah. I'm okay."

I wasn't satisfied with his answer though I couldn't quite understand what was wrong.

"So, are you ready to go? Let me drive you there."

I shook my head. "No need to bother with that. It's okay."

"I have to. Your parents told me they won't be going there. They've got an important matter to handle at the office."

I sighed, settling down on the bed. Typical of them. They planned it, yet they won't show up at all. It was already normal for me, though I still felt a pang of hurt.

They didn't show up for my engagement party with my former fiancé. They only ever showed up for my sister's own. It hurt but I had gotten used to it.

"Where's Noah?" he asked, scanning the room.

"He's probably downstairs or in the empty room playing." I said, fixing my gown.

"Alright. Let's get going. You can't be late for this."

I stood, glancing at my reflection in the mirror.

*************************************

After some minutes, we arrived at a huge mansion that towered in the streets. The golden gates were huge, covering the mansion's visibility.

Xander stopped the car and came out of the car. He came to the passenger's side and opened the door for me to get down. When Noah and I were down, he entered his car.

"Aren't you escorting me in?" I asked, when he started the car's engine.

He smiled and shook his head. "I wish you the best, Amelia." He said and zoomed off. I stood there, watching his car disappear down the street.

I turned to face the gates, exhaling before entering inside the gates. I gripped my son's hand tightly as I slowly walked in. My heart raced, my heart beats audible to me.

As I enter inside the house, my future would be changed. A knot was tied in my stomach and my legs slightly shook as I continued walking.

The distance from the gate to the main door was like a long walk up the mountains. I finally reached the entrance door, exhaling again.

Reluctantly, I pressed the door bell on the wall beside the door, awaiting a response. Seconds later, the door creaked open and a young female servant stood at the entrance.

"I'm here to see Mr Conrad Pierre," I said, my voice firm yet low. She nodded, a pleasing smile on her face.

"Come in Miss." She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter inside.

As I walked inside, I stopped, looking at the tall male figure standing in the middle of the living room, his back to me. Before I could utter a word, he turned to face me.

Instantly, I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

Conrad Pierre.

It was the same man with a strange aura at the hospital. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, and the room seemed to shrink around us.

CONRAD

My brows furrowed as I glanced at the familiar yet strange figure in front of me.

You? What are you doing here?" I asked. She slowly pulled her son closer to her, staring at me.

She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly. She just stared. Her silence was irritating and annoying.

I tightened my jaw, tucked my hands in my pockets and strode to her. "When I ask a question , I expect an answer immediately," I said, stopping a few inches away from where she stood.

She tightened her grip on her son's hand and cleared her throat. "I came here to meet Mr Conrad Pierre," she began, her voice firm. "I am his soon to be wife."

I narrowed my eyes, looking at her. "Soon to be wife? Who are you?"

"Amelia Hughes, the substitute bride you wanted."

I scoffed. Substitute bride. She definitely wasn't pleased by that fact.

"Momma, where are we?" the little boy asked, looking at her. My brows furrowed again as I glanced at him.

He looked at me as if scanning my features. It was the same boy. His face was filled with happiness and vulnerability. Something that was long gone from me.

And that was when it hit me. She was Hughes' daughter and the child probably belonged to her.

"Who is he? And why are you with him?" I asked, freeing my hands from my pockets and pointing at the little boy.

She glanced at him, then back at me. "He is my son. Noah."

I looked at the boy again and he was staring at me, his wavy hair covering his green eyes. I looked away and turned to face the other side of the room.

"Those lying humans," I said under my breath. They never mentioned a child with her. "There will be no problem, Mr Pierre," her mother had said. Now, the little child would be a problem to me.

I couldn't have a vulnerable human staying with me in the same house. Ever.

I turned to face her, clearly avoiding the child's gaze. "You may leave here."

"What?"

"You will no longer be a substitute bride, so you can leave at once."

"What do you mean by__"

"I can't have your son causing nuisance around here, especially if you can't control him," I interrupted, my voice cold.

"I can control my son," she said, patting her child's hair. "What happened at the hospital was a mistake. He didn't mean to bump into you."

"Whatever. I don't need a substitute anymore."

She left her son's hand and shook her palms together. "If it's because of that incident, I'm sorry and it won't happen again," she said, her voice suddenly soft.

I glanced at my watch, figuring out the time. "I don't really care about any of that. You need to leave now."

She stood motionless, staring at me, her eyes faltering. She squeezed her hands, unable to utter a word.

"Didn't you hear anything I said? Why are you still here?"

Amelia's chin quivered, but she stood her ground, pulling Noah closer to her side. "I... I can't go back, Mr Pierre," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a desperation she couldn't hide well.

I scoffed, a humorless sound. "That is hardly my concern. I don't want your son anywhere around me."

"He's a good boy and he behaves well," she said, with slight confidence in her eyes. There's no one else to take care of him except for me. I will ensure he causes no trouble."

"That's absurd," I snapped, about to tell her off when a calm voice interrupted me.

"Mr Conrad," my assistant, Colton called. I turned to look at him as he stood beside the staircase, his hands crossed at his back.

"What is it this time?" I asked, as I strode to him. Annoyance had already filled my voice.

"I don't think it's a good idea telling her to leave," he whispered.

"Crap!"

"You have to reconsider it, Mr Conrad. If she leaves, you won't find another bride within a day."

I exhaled, loosening the tie on my neck. "That child, Colton. He is everything I was. Everything I hated, and everything I wish would never come near me again."

My breath was becoming uneven, sweat appearing on my neck. The room suddenly felt hot and I felt like I was suffocating. I didn't want to remember any past events. I didn't want to have to go back to rehab because of the hatred I'm feeling once again.

Colton glanced at the child, then at me. "Keep it together, Mr Conrad. You can't afford failing your father and making him think you're not worthy of anything.

"To hell with failing him," I muttered.

"About the child... you can think of what you'll do to stay away from him," Colton said, his voice calm. "But the lady needs to stay."

I ran a hand through my hair, my jaw tight. The very thought of that child in my home, a constant reminder of vulnerability and the past I desperately tried to bury was intolerable.

Yet, Colton was right. This was the last chance I had to claim what my father had denied me.

"Very well then," I said and turned to leave, walking to where Amelia stood. Just then, her son stepped forward and tried to touch my hand, but I quickly stepped back.

"Stay put, Noah," Amelia said, pulling him back to her. "Don't walk around or try to touch anyone."

I cleared my throat, and looked at her, my eyes hardened. "First, keep him far away from me."

She nodded in affirmation, gripping her son's hand tightly.

"The wedding will take place tomorrow morning," I said firmly.

Darn that old man. My father had insisted that I shouldn't go ahead with the wedding preparations until he returned from his trip to Rome-for the third time this month.

He might have guessed that I was up to no good again. At least, it wouldn't be the first time his intuition was right.

"I still don't want your son anywhere around this house."

"I am the only person he has," she said, her voice cracking. "He won't cause you any harm, please__"

I shook my head, frustration brewing. "You can keep him with you only on one condition."