“Mom, please don’t make a scene. Dad deserves to be happy.”
Julia. Her eldest.
Her fingers trembled as she read the words again.
Another message popped up. “We talked about it. We’re happy for Dad. Please don’t make this difficult.”
Ethan.
Tears stung her eyes.
She scrolled, her heart pounding. Mia. Her youngest.
“Charlotte is really nice. Maybe you should just let this go.”
The restaurant walls blurred.
Her hands went numb.
Her children had sided with them.
Her own flesh and blood, the ones she had carried, raised, nurtured, they had thrown her away as easily as Richard had.
Something inside her cracked.
She looked up, and for the first time in her life, she saw Richard for who he truly was. Not the man she had loved. Not the man she had sacrificed for.
A stranger.
A selfish, ruthless man who had taken everything from her without a second thought.
Her gaze flickered to Charlotte, who watched her with that same amused, pitying smile.
“Amelia,” Richard said, checking his watch. “Let’s not drag this out. The driver’s waiting.”
Something inside her snapped.
She stood slowly, her chair scraping against the floor. Every muscle in her body ached from the sheer weight of betrayal, but she refused to fall apart here.
She turned, walking away without another word.
Richard called after her, but she didn’t stop.
Not when she stepped out into the cold night.
Not when she reached the waiting car.
Not even when she sank into the backseat, her hands curled into fists on her lap.
The driver turned. “Where to, ma’am?”
She had no home. No husband. No children.
She had nothing.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
“Drive,” she whispered.
As the car pulled away, Amelia stared out at the city lights.
One thought burned through the agony consuming her.
One day, they would regret this.
And when that day came, she wouldn’t be the one begging.
Chapter 2
Amelia sat frozen in the back of the car, her mind empty yet somehow overflowing with thoughts she couldn’t grasp. The city lights blurred outside the window, smudges of color against the darkness. She hadn’t given the driver any direction beyond that single word: “Drive.”
“Ma’am?” The driver’s voice broke through her haze. “I need to know where we’re going.”
Amelia blinked, realizing they had been driving in circles for nearly an hour. Her throat felt tight, as if invisible hands were squeezing it.
“Westlake Bridge,” she said, her voice hollow. “Take me to the Westlake Bridge.”
The driver’s eyes met hers in the mirror. Something like concern flickered across his face, but he nodded and turned the car toward the brwidge.
Her phone buzzed again. She stared at it, numb. More messages from her children.
Mom, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.
We still love you, but Dad deserves this chance.
Charlotte makes him happy. We just want everyone to be happy.
Happy. The word echoed in her mind, mocking her. What about her happiness? Twenty years of her life, poured into a family that had discarded her like she meant nothing.
The car slowed to a stop near the edge of the bridge. Rain had started to fall, soft drops pattering against the windows.
“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver said, his voice gentler than before. “Would you like me to wait?”
Amelia looked at him, this stranger who showed more concern than her own family had. “No,” she whispered. “You can go.”
He hesitated. “It’s raining. Are you sure you don’t want me to….”
“Please,” she cut him off. “Just go.”
She handed him money, far more than the fare required. His eyes widened, but he took it without comment.
“Take care of yourself, ma’am,” he said as she stepped out into the rain.
Amelia didn’t answer. She stood on the sidewalk, watching as the car’s taillights disappeared into the night. Then she turned toward the bridge, her steps slow and heavy.
The Westlake Bridge stretched before her, its lights reflecting off the water below. At this late hour, few cars passed. She walked to the middle of the pedestrian path, her clothes growing heavier with each step as the rain soaked through them.
She reached the railing and gripped it with both hands. The metal felt cold against her skin. Below, the dark water churned, angry and restless.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of waking up next to Richard, of kissing him goodbye in the mornings, of waiting for him to come home at night. Twenty years of planning surprise parties, of nursing him through illnesses, of celebrating his promotions and consoling him through setbacks.
Twenty years of raising their children. Of midnight feedings and diaper changes. Of scraped knees and school plays. Of homework help and driving lessons. Of college applications and graduation ceremonies.
Twenty years of her life, given freely, willingly, lovingly.
And in return?
“Your things are packed. The house belongs to Charlotte now.”
A sob tore from her throat, barely audible over the rain and the occasional car passing behind her. Her legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath her.
She looked down at her hands, at the wedding ring still on her finger. The diamond caught the light, sparkling despite the darkness surrounding it. She twisted it off, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.
This tiny circle of gold had once meant everything to her. A promise. A future. A life built on love and trust.
Now it was just a reminder of her foolishness.
She drew her arm back, ready to throw it into the water below, but something stopped her. Not sentimentality, no, that had been crushed the moment Richard walked into the restaurant with Charlotte. Instead, a cold, hard thought formed in her mind: this ring was worth money. Money she would need, now that she had nothing.
She slipped it into her pocket instead.
The rain fell harder, plastering her hair to her face and neck. She didn’t bother wiping it away. What did it matter if she was wet? What did anything matter anymore?
Her phone buzzed again. She pulled it out, squinting at the screen through the rain.
Richard: The driver said he dropped you at Westlake Bridge. What are you doing there?
So he had been tracking her. Even now, when he had taken everything from her, he wanted to control her movements.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she scrolled through her contacts, searching for someone, anyone, she could call. A friend, a relative, anyone who might take her in, at least for tonight.
But who? Most of her friends were Richard’s friends too, or the wives of his colleagues. Her parents had passed years ago. Her sister lived across the country with her own family.
She was alone. Completely, utterly alone.
The realization hit her with physical force, making her stumble back from the railing. She had spent so many years being Richard’s wife, the children’s mother, that she had forgotten how to be Amelia. Just Amelia.
She had no career to fall back on. No skills that would earn her a living. No home to return to. No family to support her.
She was fourty years old, and she had to start over from nothing.
The weight of it crushed her. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the wet concrete of the bridge walkway. The rain mixed with her tears until she couldn’t tell which was which.
Her phone buzzed again. And again. And again.
Richard: Answer me, Amelia.
Richard: You’re being childish.
Richard: The children are worried.
She laughed, a broken sound that echoed across the empty bridge. The children were worried? The same children who had known about their father’s affair and said nothing? The same children who had helped plan her exile?
Her laugh turned to sobs, wrenching from deep in her chest. She curled into herself, arms wrapped around her middle as if she could physically hold herself together when everything inside her was falling apart.
Time lost meaning. She could have been sitting there for minutes or hours, she couldn’t tell. The rain continued to fall, colder now, and her body shivered uncontrollably.
Eventually, her sobs quieted, leaving behind a hollow emptiness. She stood on shaky legs and walked back to the railing. The water below looked darker now, more menacing. Or perhaps more inviting.
She leaned forward, her upper body hanging over the edge. The metal rail dug into her stomach, but she barely felt it. What was one more pain, when her entire being was already shattered?
It would be so easy. Just one moment of courage, one push over the edge, and it would all be over. No more pain. No more betrayal. No more starting over from nothing at forty-five.
Just peace. Quiet. An end to this overwhelming agony that threatened to consume her.
She closed her eyes, her grip on the railing loosening. The wind whipped around her, tugging at her clothes, at her hair, as if encouraging her to let go.
She thought of her children. Not as they were now, these strangers who had betrayed her, but as they had been. Julia, with her gap-toothed smile and pigtails. Ethan, serious and kind, always bringing her wildflowers from the garden. Mia, with her infectious laugh and boundless energy.
She thought of the life she had built. The home she had created. The love she had given, so freely, so completely.
And she thought of Richard. Not the man who had sat across from her at the restaurant, cold and distant, but the man she had fallen in love with. The man who had once looked at her like she was his whole world.
Something inside her shifted. Not healing, no, that would take much longer, but a tiny spark of something else. Something that felt almost like anger.
Why should she be the one to disappear? Why should she be the one to give up? Why should they get to live their lives, happy and unburdened, while she became nothing more than a sad memory?
She gripped the railing tighter, her knuckles white with the effort. She would not give them that satisfaction. She would not let them win.
But the thought came too late. Her foot slipped on the wet concrete, and for a terrible moment, she felt herself falling forward, the railing no longer enough to keep her on the bridge.
Time slowed. She saw the water below, dark and unforgiving. She heard the distant sound of a car horn. She felt the rain on her face, cold and relentless.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Not like this. Not because of them.
Just as her body tipped over the edge, a hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with surprising strength. The grip was firm, unyielding. A man’s hand.
She gasped, her body suspended for a terrifying moment between life and death, the dark water still calling to her from below. Rain lashed against her face as she dangled, her fate held in a stranger’s grasp.
The hand pulled, muscles straining against her weight. Amelia felt herself being dragged back from the brink, back to a world she no longer wanted to be part of.
Her eyes, blurred with rain and tears, could make out nothing but the silhouette of a man against the dim bridge lights. His hand, warm despite the cold night, held onto her with a determination she could not understand.
As her body swayed back toward the safety of the bridge, Amelia’s mind filled with conflicting emotions. Relief. Disappointment. Anger. Confusion.
Why couldn’t they all just let her go?
The man’s fingers tightened around her wrist, an anchor in the storm that had become her life.
Chapter 3
The strong hand pulled Amelia back over the railing. Her body crashed against the wet concrete of the bridge, lungs fighting for air. Rain pounded against her face as she lay there, caught between gratitude and fury that someone had stopped her fall.
“Amelia? My God, is that you?”
The voice cut through the storm, familiar yet impossible. She blinked through the rain, trying to focus on the man kneeling beside her.
“Amelia Carter. It is you.”
She squinted, her vision clearing enough to see his face. Recognition hit her like a physical blow.
“Lucas?” Her voice cracked, barely audible over the rain.
Lucas County. Her childhood friend. The boy next door who had taught her to ride a bike, who had shared his lunch when bullies stole hers, who had been there through every skinned knee and teenage heartbreak until college pulled them in different directions.
Lucas, who she hadn’t seen in twenty-two years.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
He helped her to a sitting position, his hand steady on her back. “I was driving by. Saw someone at the railing.” His eyes, still the same deep brown she remembered, studied her face. “What happened, Amelia?”
The kindness in his voice broke something inside her. Fresh tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks.
“Everything,” she said. “Everything happened.”
Lucas removed his coat, wrapping it around her shivering shoulders. The expensive fabric felt heavy, warm despite the rain soaking through it.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you somewhere dry.”
She didn’t resist as he helped her stand, her legs wobbly beneath her. A sleek black car waited nearby, engine running, headlights cutting through the rain.
“Is that yours?” she asked.
Lucas nodded, guiding her toward it. “My driver was circling while I walked back to look for my phone. I think I dropped it earlier.” His arm remained firm around her waist, keeping her steady. “Good thing I did.”
The car door opened as they approached. A uniformed driver stood waiting, face carefully blank as he took in Amelia’s drenched appearance.
“Home, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, James. And turn the heat up, please.”
The interior of the car was warm, the leather seats soft beneath her. Lucas sat beside her, close but not touching, giving her space while remaining near enough to catch her if she fell again.
They drove in silence for several minutes. Amelia stared out the window, watching the city lights blur together. Her mind felt empty, too exhausted to process the bizarre twist that had brought her childhood friend back into her life on this of all nights.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucas asked finally.
She turned to look at him properly for the first time. The years had been kind to him. His face had matured, lines around his eyes suggesting both laughter and stress, but his features remained handsome. His hair, once unruly brown curls, was now short, neatly styled. His clothes, what she could see beneath the rainwater, spoke of wealth and taste.
“My husband left me,” she said, the words like glass in her throat. “Tonight. At our anniversary dinner. For his secretary.”
Lucas’s expression darkened. “Richard, right? The business student?”
She nodded, surprised he remembered. “Twenty years of marriage. Three children. And he told me my things were packed and the house belongs to his girlfriend now.”
Each word made the reality sink deeper. Fresh pain bloomed in her chest.
“Jesus, Amelia.” His hand found hers, warm against her cold fingers. “I’m so sorry.”
The simple kindness nearly undid her. “My children knew.” Her voice broke. “They knew and they chose him. They helped him.”
Lucas’s grip tightened. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or worthless advice. He simply held her hand as the tears came again, quieter this time, the storm inside her temporarily spent.
The car slowed, turning through a set of massive iron gates. Amelia looked up, gasping softly as a sprawling mansion came into view, illuminated by tasteful landscape lighting despite the late hour.
“This is yours?” she asked.
Lucas nodded, a hint of self-consciousness in his smile. “Home sweet home.”
The car stopped at the front entrance. James opened the door, holding an umbrella over them as they stepped out. The rain had lessened to a gentle drizzle, but Amelia was already soaked to the bone.
The front door opened as they approached, a middle-aged woman in simple but elegant clothes waiting inside.
“Mrs. Parker, could you please prepare the east guest suite?” Lucas asked. “And perhaps find some dry clothes?”
“Of course, Mr. County.” The woman’s eyes lingered curiously on Amelia before she hurried off.
The foyer was breathtaking, marble floors, a sweeping staircase, crystal chandelier casting warm light over everything. Amelia stood dripping on the expensive floor, feeling small and out of place.
“Come on,” Lucas said, his hand gentle on her elbow. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
He led her through the house to a study. A fire burned in a stone fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the wood-paneled walls. Bookshelves reached from floor to ceiling, filled with leather-bound volumes. A large desk dominated one end of the room, while comfortable leather chairs clustered near the fire.
“Sit,” he said, guiding her to the chair closest to the flames. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
Amelia sank into the chair, her body aching with cold and emotional exhaustion. She watched as Lucas moved to a sideboard, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses.
“Here,” he said, handing her one. “Whiskey. Best medicine for a night like this.”
She took a small sip, the liquor burning a path down her throat, spreading warmth through her chest. “Thank you.”
Lucas sat in the chair opposite, studying her over the rim of his glass. “When did we last see each other, Amelia? Your wedding?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You couldn’t make it, remember? Something about a startup in California.”
“That’s right.” He nodded slowly. “Must have been that summer after college, then. When you came home to visit your parents.”
“Twenty-two years ago.” The realization hung between them, a measure of all the life lived in between.
Lucas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And now here we are.”
“Here we are,” she echoed, glancing around the opulent room. “Though it seems you’ve done quite well for yourself.”
A small, almost embarrassed smile crossed his face. “That startup in California? Turned out better than expected.”
“Clearly.” She managed a weak smile in return. “What exactly do you do, Lucas?”
“A bit of everything these days.” He swirled the whiskey in his glass. “Started with tech, software for financial systems. Built that up, sold it, used the money to diversify. Energy, real estate, communications.”
“You’re being modest,” she said, recognizing the careful way he downplayed his success.
His smile widened slightly. “If you must know, County Global is now the first-largest private corporation in the world.”
Amelia nearly choked on her whiskey. “You’re that Lucas County? The Lucas County? The one they call the ‘Shadow King’ because you own half the world but nobody ever sees you?”
He winced. “I hate that nickname. But yes, guilty as charged.” His eyes met hers, suddenly serious. “Fortune magazine might call me the richest man in the world, but I’m still just Lucas. The kid who ate lunch with you under the oak tree and helped you pass algebra.”
Before she could respond, Mrs. Parker returned, a folded stack of clothes in her arms.
“These should fit,” she said, setting them on a side table. “The guest suite is ready whenever you’d like to rest, Miss…”
“Carter,” Amelia supplied automatically, then flinched. Soon that wouldn’t be her name anymore. “Amelia.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Parker,” Lucas said. “That will be all for tonight.”
The woman nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her.
“You should change,” Lucas said. “You’ll catch pneumonia in those wet clothes.”
Amelia looked down at herself, suddenly aware of how she must appear, hair plastered to her head, makeup streaked down her cheeks, dress clinging to her like a second skin. “Where can I…?”
“Through there.” He pointed to a door at the far end of the study. “Private bathroom.”
She took the clothes and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The room was larger than her bedroom at, no, not her bedroom anymore. The bedroom that had been hers until tonight.
The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through her chest.
She peeled off her wet clothes, letting them fall in a soggy heap on the marble floor. The mirror above the sink reflected a stranger, a middle-aged woman with hollow eyes and lines of grief etched into her face. This broken creature couldn’t be Amelia Carter, the woman who had spent twenty years perfecting the role of wife and mother.
But then, she wasn’t Amelia Carter anymore, was she?
The clothes Mrs. Parker had provided fit reasonably well, soft gray lounge pants and a blue cashmere sweater. Simple, expensive, comfortable. Amelia dried her hair with a towel and washed her face, erasing the last traces of the makeup she had applied so carefully for the anniversary dinner that now felt like it had happened in another lifetime.
When she returned to the study, Lucas was staring into the fire, his expression distant. He looked up as she entered, a small smile warming his features.
“Better?” he asked.
“Warmer, at least.” She returned to her chair, picking up the whiskey glass again. “Lucas, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there. For bringing me here.” She swallowed hard. “For stopping me from falling.”
Understanding darkened his eyes. He reached across the space between them, taking her hand. “Were you going to jump, Amelia?”
She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I slipped, but… I don’t know if I would have fought it if you hadn’t grabbed me.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “I’m glad I was there.”
“Why were you there?” The question had been nagging at her. “Of all the bridges in the city, at that exact moment…”
Lucas released her hand, leaning back in his chair. “I was at a charity function downtown. Dropped my phone while getting into the car. Asked James to circle back while I looked for it.” He smiled faintly. “Turns out it was in my pocket the whole time. But if I hadn’t gone back…”
The implication hung in the air between them.
“Maybe it was meant to be,” Amelia said, not believing in fate but unable to explain the coincidence any other way.
“Maybe.” Lucas finished his whiskey, setting the glass aside. “Either way, I’m here now. And so are you.”
“What happens next?” The question escaped before she could stop it, revealing the fear that lurked beneath her grief, the terrifying unknown that stretched before her.
Lucas studied her face for a long moment. “Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we figure it out.” He leaned forward again. “But I want you to know something, Amelia. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
“You barely know me anymore,” she protested weakly. “We haven’t seen each other in over two decades.”
“I know enough.” His voice was firm. “I know you were the kindest person I ever met. I know you were brilliant before Richard convinced you to drop out of law school. I know you deserved better than what happened tonight.”
Tears pricked at her eyes again. “Lucas…”
“Stay here,” he said. “As long as you need. Get back on your feet. Figure out what you want. What you really want, without Richard or anyone else telling you.”
The offer was so generous, so unexpected, that Amelia couldn’t find words to respond.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Lucas continued. “Just know the offer is there.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do this for me?”
Something flickered in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Because once upon a time, you were the only person who saw me. Not the awkward scholarship kid. Not the brain people copied homework from. Just Lucas.” He smiled, a hint of sadness in it. “Some debts can never be repaid.”
Amelia felt a strange warmth spreading through her chest, different from the heat of the whiskey or the fire. For the first time since Richard had walked into the restaurant with Charlotte, she felt something other than pain and humiliation.
She felt seen.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Lucas nodded, understanding in his eyes. “It’s late. You should rest.”
As he showed her to the guest suite, a space larger and more luxurious than any hotel room she had ever stayed in, Amelia found herself wondering what tomorrow would bring. The pain was still there, raw and throbbing beneath the surface, but something else had begun to take root alongside it.
A tiny seed of possibility.
She closed the door to the guest suite and leaned against it, exhaustion washing over her in waves. The king-sized bed looked impossibly inviting, the sheets turned down, a glass of water and two pills, aspirin, she guessed, waiting on the nightstand.
Amelia swallowed the pills and climbed into bed, her body sinking into the mattress as if it had been made for her. As sleep began to claim her, one thought drifted through her mind.
Twenty years ago, she had chosen Richard over her own dreams. She had molded herself into what he wanted, what her children needed, what society expected. She had become Amelia Carter, the perfect wife and mother, and buried the woman she might have been.
Perhaps it was time for that woman to rise again.
In the darkness of Lucas County’s guest room, on the same night her husband had destroyed her world, Amelia allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, what it might feel like to rebuild it, not for Richard, not for her children, but for herself.
And for the first time in twenty years, the future didn’t look like a prison sentence.
It looked like freedom.
Chapter 4
Morning light filtered through cream-colored curtains, waking Amelia from a deep sleep. For a moment, she forgot everything, the disaster at the restaurant, Richard’s cold eyes, her children’s betrayal, the bridge.
Then reality crashed back, stealing her breath.
She sat up, taking in the unfamiliar room with its king-sized bed, plush carpet, and expensive furniture. Lucas County’s guest room.
A knock at the door startled her.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded hoarse from crying.
The door opened slightly, and Mrs. Parker’s head poked in. “Good morning, Miss Amelia. Mr. County asked me to check if you’re awake. Breakfast is ready whenever you’d like to come down.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”
Amelia shuffled to the bathroom, wincing at her puffy eyes and tangled hair in the mirror. The bathroom counter held new toiletries, all expensive brands. A fluffy robe hung on the door.
She brushed her teeth, splashed cold water on her face, and put the robe on over her borrowed clothes before heading downstairs.
The mansion was even more impressive in daylight. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, highlighting artwork that belonged in museums. Fresh flowers sat in crystal vases on antique tables.
She followed the smell of coffee and found herself in a bright kitchen with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens. At the center island sat a young woman reading something on a tablet.
She looked up as Amelia entered, her face breaking into a curious smile. She had Lucas’s deep brown eyes, but her face was finer, more delicate. Her dark hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders.
“You must be Amelia,” the girl said. “I’m Eva. Lucas’s daughter.”
“Hello, Eva. It’s nice to meet you.” Amelia tugged self-consciously at the robe. “I’m sorry about my appearance.”
Eva waved dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Dad explained what happened.” Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
The simple words brought a lump to Amelia’s throat. She nodded, unable to speak.
“Coffee?” Eva asked, gesturing to a gleaming machine.
“Please.”
Eva handed her a steaming mug, then motioned to the island. “Sit. Mrs. P made enough breakfast to feed an army.”
Amelia perched on a stool, watching as Eva uncovered dishes of eggs, bacon, fruits, and pastries. She took some toast and fruit, though the knot in her stomach made eating difficult.
“Do you live here year-round?” she asked.
“I attend university from home. I’m studying International Relations.” Eva bit into a croissant. “Dad wanted me to go to Harvard’s campus, but I preferred staying here.”
“That’s impressive.”
Eva shrugged. “I like the flexibility. And honestly, after growing up with so many nannies, I wanted to spend more time with Dad when he’s actually home.” A small smile played on her lips. “Plus online classes mean I can avoid being ‘Lucas County’s daughter’ to everyone on campus.”
Amelia sipped her coffee, studying the young woman. There was a quiet confidence about her that made Amelia feel oddly comfortable.
“How long have you lived in this house?” Amelia asked.
“Since I was ten. After Mom died.”
The statement fell between them, matter-of-fact but weighty.
“I’m so sorry,” Amelia said softly.
Eva nodded, her eyes distant. “Cancer. It was quick, at least. Dad moved us here afterward.” She looked around the kitchen. “This place never really felt like home, though. Too big. Too empty.”
“It’s beautiful,” Amelia offered.
“Beautiful, yes. But empty. Dad works constantly. It was always just me and whatever nanny was currently employed.” Eva’s tone was conversational, not self-pitying. “Dad tried, he really did. Flew home for every school play, every birthday. But running an empire doesn’t leave much room for parenting.”
Amelia’s heart squeezed. She thought of her own children, who had everything she could give them, her time, her energy, her unconditional love, and still chose to throw her away.
“I’m sure he did his best,” she murmured.
“He did.” Eva’s eyes met hers. “So you and my dad were childhood friends?”
“We were,” Amelia confirmed, surprised Lucas had shared even that much. “We grew up next door to each other. Best friends from elementary school through high school.”
“And then?”
“Life happened. College. Careers. Marriage.” The word tasted bitter on her tongue.
Eva studied her with unnerving focus. “Dad never talks about his past. When he mentioned you this morning, I couldn’t believe it. He never brings people here.”
Amelia felt heat rise to her cheeks. “The circumstances were unusual.”
“So I gathered.” Eva’s voice softened. “He said your husband left you. That your kids sided with him.”
The blunt statement cut through Amelia’s chest like a knife.
“Yes,” she managed.
Eva reached across the island, her slim fingers touching Amelia’s wrist, a light touch, but comforting. “That’s really awful of them.”
A startled laugh escaped Amelia’s lips, part amusement, part pain. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
“How old are they? Your kids?”
“Julia is twenty. Ethan is eighteen. Mia just turned fifteen.” Her voice remained steady, though saying their names hurt like pressing on a bruise.
Eva’s eyebrows rose. “The older ones are adults. That makes it worse.”
“Worse?”
“If they were little, you could blame him, your husband. Mind games, manipulation. But at their age?” Eva shook her head. “They made a choice. A terrible one.”
The stark assessment brought fresh tears to Amelia’s eyes. Eva was right. Her older children weren’t naive. They were adults who had knowingly participated in her humiliation.
“I’m sorry,” Eva said quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re right.” Amelia wiped at her eyes. “I’ve spent twenty years making excuses for everyone. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
Eva smiled, a real smile that transformed her face. “I like you, Amelia. You don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”
“You’re what, Eighteen?”
“No, I will be Eighteen in three months. But most of Dad’s friends still pinch my cheeks and ask about school like I’m in kindergarten.” Eva rolled her eyes. “They’re all calculating how a marriage to their son would benefit their companies.”
Amelia smiled despite herself. “I can imagine.”
“No, you can’t.” Eva’s tone was teasing. “Dad’s worth is somewhere north of fifty Trillion. Makes me quite a catch, apparently.”
Amelia choked on her coffee. “Fifty Trillion?”
“Give or take a few Trillion.” Eva shrugged, as if discussing pocket change. “That’s why I prefer taking classes online. Fewer people trying to get close to me because of my last name.”
“I had no idea Lucas was so…” Amelia trailed off.
“Rich? Powerful? Intimidating to everyone except you?” Eva grinned. “It’s refreshing. You should have seen his face this morning when he mentioned finding you. I’ve never seen him so… human.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Lucas appeared in the doorway, dressed in an expensive gray suit.
“Good morning,” he said, crossing to the coffee machine. “I see you two have met.”
“We have,” Eva confirmed. “I like her, Dad. Can we keep her?”
Lucas shot his daughter a warning look, but Amelia found herself laughing, a genuine laugh, the first since everything fell apart.
“I’m not a stray puppy, Eva.”
“No, but you do need somewhere to stay.” Eva’s eyes danced with mischief. “And this place has thirty-two rooms. I counted once when I was bored.”
“Eva,” Lucas’s tone held gentle reproof. “Amelia has a lot to figure out. Don’t pressure her.”
“I’m not pressuring. I’m encouraging.” Eva slid off her stool, grabbing her tablet. “Anyway, I’m meeting friends for lunch. Nice to meet you, Amelia. I hope you’ll still be here when I get back.”
She kissed her father’s cheek and bounced out of the kitchen, leaving a silence behind that felt both awkward and comfortable.
Lucas took Eva’s spot at the island. “I apologize for my daughter. She can be… direct.”
“Don’t apologize. She’s wonderful.” Amelia meant it. Eva’s straightforward manner cut through the fog of her grief.
“She is,” Lucas agreed, pride evident in his voice. “Too smart for her own good sometimes. Reminds me of you, actually.”
“Me?”
“The way you used to be. Before…”
“Before Richard.” The name felt foreign in her mouth now. “Before I gave up everything for a man who tossed me aside.”
Lucas winced. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, you’re right.” She pushed her plate away. “I lost myself somewhere along the way.”
“And now?” Lucas asked gently.
“Now?” Amelia looked at her hands, at the pale line where her wedding ring had been for twenty years. “Now I have no idea who I am or what I’m supposed to do next.”
“You don’t have to figure it out today,” Lucas said. “Or tomorrow. Or next week.”
“I can’t stay here, Lucas.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to stand on my own. Get a job, a place to live.”
“And you will,” Lucas agreed. “But right now, you’re in shock. You’ve lost everything in a single night. Give yourself time to breathe.”
His logic was sound, but something still felt wrong. “I don’t want to be a charity case.”
Lucas set his coffee down, his gaze intense. “Is that what you think this is? Charity?”
“What else would you call it?”
“I call it helping an old friend. I call it doing the decent thing.” He paused. “I call it making up for lost time.”
“What does that mean?”
Lucas looked away. “Nothing. Just… stay, Amelia. At least until you get your bearings. The east wing is practically empty. You’d be doing Eva a favor, she’s always complaining there are no other women here besides Mrs. Parker.”
Amelia hesitated. The thought of facing the world, finding a job, an apartment, starting over at forty was overwhelming.
“One week,” she said finally. “I’ll stay one week. Then I need to start figuring out my life.”
Relief washed over Lucas’s face. “One week. Although Eva will try to convince you otherwise.”
“Your daughter is very persuasive.”
“You have no idea.” His smile turned wistful. “She gets that from her mother.”
“Eva mentioned she died. I’m sorry, Lucas.”
Pain flashed in his eyes. “Ten years ago. Breast cancer. We had the best doctors, but…” He shrugged, the gesture containing volumes of grief. “She was gone within six months.”
“That must have been awful for both of you.”
“It was. I did my best with Eva, but between running the company and raising a grieving child… I made a lot of mistakes.”
“She adores you,” Amelia said softly. “That much is obvious.”
“She’s a good kid. Better than I deserve.” He cleared his throat. “So, one week. After breakfast, Mrs. Parker will show you around. Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you, Lucas. For everything.”
His eyes met hers. “You’re not alone anymore, Amelia.”
The way he said it, with such quiet certainty, made her throat tighten.
“I should get dressed,” she said, uncomfortable with the emotion building in her chest. “I can’t wander around in a bathrobe all day.”
“Mrs. Parker ordered some clothes for you. Nothing fancy, just basics. They should be in your room by now.”
“Lucas, you don’t have to…”
“Please. Let me do this one thing.”
She nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”
As she turned to leave, Lucas called after her. “Amelia?”
She paused, looking back.
“For what it’s worth, I think Richard was a fool. A damn fool.”
The words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, soothing some of the jagged edges of her pain. She nodded and continued out of the kitchen.
Walking back through the hallways, Amelia felt something stir in her chest, something she hadn’t felt since the moment Richard walked into the restaurant with Charlotte.
It wasn’t happiness. It wasn’t even hope. It was smaller, more fragile.
It was possibility.
The possibility that maybe the end of her old life could be the beginning of something new. Something that belonged to her alone.
As she reached her room, Amelia caught her reflection in a gilded mirror. The woman who stared back was still broken, still lost, still grieving.
But for the first time, she didn’t look defeated.
One week, she had promised. One week to catch her breath before facing the world again.
What she didn’t say, what she barely admitted even to herself, was that a part of her already dreaded leaving the safety of this mansion. Leaving Lucas and Eva, who had shown her more kindness in one day than her own family had in years.
One week. And then she would begin rebuilding her life from the ashes.
Chapter 5
Lucas County stood at the window of his office, staring out at the rain-washed garden but seeing nothing. His mind was twenty-five years in the past, fixed on a memory he’d never been able to shake.
Amelia, eighteen and radiant in her graduation dress, laughing as she spun under the oak tree in her backyard. Her chestnut hair catching sunlight, joy radiating from her every movement.
That was the day he had finally gathered his courage to tell her how he felt. How he had always felt, since they were ten years old and she’d punched Billy Sanders for making fun of Lucas’s secondhand clothes.
But Richard Parker had beaten him to it. Handsome, confident Richard with his sports car and easy charm. Richard had shown up at Amelia’s graduation party with roses and a silver bracelet, sweeping her off her feet with practiced lines and a dazzling smile.
Lucas had watched from across the yard as Amelia blushed under Richard’s attention. He had seen the moment she fell, the precise instant when her heart turned toward Richard and away from any possibility of what might have been between them.
He never told her. He couldn’t bear to make her choose, couldn’t stand the thought of seeing pity in those warm eyes he loved so much. So he’d swallowed his confession, congratulated them both, and left for California with his heart in pieces.
Now Lucas moved to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, removing a thin file marked with a single letter: A.
Inside were photos, news clippings, reports, the careful documentation of a life observed from afar. Amelia at her wedding, radiant in white lace. Amelia with her newborn daughter. Amelia at charity events on Richard’s arm, her smile never quite reaching her eyes in later years.
What had started as a way to ease the ache of loss, just checking in occasionally to make sure she was happy, had evolved into something more thorough over the years. Every six months, a discreet update from a private investigator. Nothing intrusive, nothing that crossed lines, just… keeping tabs.
Making sure she was safe. Happy. Taken care of.
He had known for years that she wasn’t truly happy. Had seen her spark dim as Richard’s career took priority, as she set aside her own dreams for her family. But she had chosen that life, and Lucas had respected her choice, watching from the shadows as she built the family she had always wanted.
Until two days ago, when his security head had called with an urgent report: Richard Parker had been seen entering Le Ciel restaurant with his secretary, Charlotte Mills. An hour later, Amelia Carter had left alone, clearly distraught.
Lucas had known immediately what had happened. Richard, who had never deserved her, had finally shown his true nature.
He had ordered his car readied, intending to go to her home, to finally break his long silence. But before he could leave, a second call came through.
“Sir, Mrs. Carter hasn’t gone home. The driver followed her to Westlake Bridge. She’s been standing there for over an hour in the rain. She doesn’t look… stable, sir.”
Lucas had never moved so fast in his life. Had never felt such pure, primal fear. He ordered his driver to break every speed limit, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst from his chest.
When he reached the bridge and saw her slight figure at the railing, rain plastering her dress to her body, her face blank with despair, something in him had shattered. Twenty years of careful distance, of respecting her choices, of watching from afar, gone in an instant.
He had reached her just as she slipped, his hand catching her wrist in a grip so tight it might have left bruises. In that moment, as she dangled between life and death, he had made a vow to himself: he would never let her go again. Not to Richard. Not to despair. Not to anyone or anything.
If fate had given him this second chance, he would not waste it.
And now she was here, in his home, sleeping under his roof. Broken, yes. Devastated by betrayal. But alive. Here. Within reach at last.
Lucas closed the file and returned it to the drawer. He hadn’t told her the truth, that he’d known exactly where she was that night, that his “chance” encounter on the bridge was anything but chance. He couldn’t tell her that he’d been watching over her for decades, a silent guardian she never knew she had.
She would think him obsessed. Disturbed, even.
Perhaps he was.
He moved back to the window, pressing his palm against the cool glass. The rain had stopped, leaving the garden glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Somewhere in the east wing, Amelia was settling into her temporary sanctuary, unaware of the truth that burned in his chest like a flame.
He had loved her since childhood. Had never stopped loving her, not through college, not through his marriage to Eva’s mother, a good woman who had known she was his second choice and had loved him anyway, not through the decades of building his empire while Amelia built her family with another man.
Now, by some twist of fate cruel to her but impossibly precious to him, she was here. Vulnerable. In need of protection and care, things he could finally, at long last, provide.
“One week,” he murmured to the empty room, recalling her words from breakfast. She thought she would stay just one week, then go out into the world alone to rebuild her life.
But Lucas had waited twenty years for this chance. He would not let it slip away so easily.
He would not force her, would not manipulate or pressure her. But he would show her, day by day, what life could be like by his side. Would demonstrate through actions, not words, how deeply he cherished her, how completely he understood her.
And perhaps, given time, she might come to see him as more than the boy next door, more than an old friend offering shelter in a storm.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Sir? Your next meeting is waiting.”
Lucas straightened his shoulders. The world’s third largest corporation would not run itself.
Yet as he prepared to discuss billion-dollar investments and strategic acquisitions, his mind remained fixed on Amelia. On the fragile second chance fate had given him.
He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an old photograph, yellowed with age. Two teenagers sitting under an oak tree, her head resting on his shoulder, both of them laughing at some forgotten joke. He had carried this photo everywhere for twenty years.
Lucas traced her young face with his finger. She had chosen Richard back then, had built a life without him. But Richard had proven unworthy of her trust, her love, her loyalty.
Lucas would not make the same mistake. He would be patient. Would earn her trust again, slowly, carefully. Would help her heal from Richard’s betrayal.
And this time, when she was ready to choose again, he would make sure she knew exactly how he felt. How he had always felt.
This time, Lucas County would fight for the woman he loved.
Whatever it took, however long it took, he would keep her by his side.
He had failed to protect her once. He would not fail again.
