Amelia
Marriage.
I’m supposed to marry this arrogant, self-centered bastard.
The very thought of spending my life with him makes my heart race. My stomach churns, and the dull ache in my chest turns into a sharp claw, digging deeper and deeper. Because I was always meant to be with Philipp. Philipp, not Nicolas.
And even though I want to scream and shout that it’s far too soon after his death to be engaged again, that we’re betraying him, I don’t.
I stay silent. No one knew that I was supposed to become Philipp’s wife, so in that sense, we’re not betraying him.
Phil would probably even approve. Which only makes it harder for me, because it feels like I’m just replacing him. When all I want is to honor his memory.
But I can only do that if I go along with what I’ve been so politely ordered to do. My brother surely had a hand in arranging all of this.
Sold off like a prize mare.
Bitterness seeps through every pore, and I let out a short laugh. My head throbs in time with my tangled thoughts.
Nonsense! You know exactly why it hurts. Stop denying it, my subconscious scolds, and I grimace. Because I know it’s right.
It hurts because Henry slapped me.
I shouldn’t have been so shocked, shouldn’t have felt it so deeply, but I did. And it made the massive hole in my heart even larger. Because once again, I was foolish enough to hope things might change. That HE might change. But he shattered that hope, shattered ME like thin glass.
Is that who I am? So weak, so easy to break?
What am I supposed to do? I have no one to stand up for me. Nowhere to go. Well, Lizzy would move heaven and earth to help me if she knew.
Shame slithers out like a treacherous snake, coiling tightly around me. Just the thought of telling someone that my brother hits me, abuses me, makes my cheeks burn and my stomach churn.
No. No, I can’t.
Even though I’m alone, I silently shake my head.
No. Never. No one will ever know.
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I look toward the door, tensing. Henry better stays the hell away from me.
“It’s me, Lia. May I come in?” Lizzy. Relieved, I let my tense shoulders fall.
“Come in.”
As always, she sneaks quietly into my room, coming and going around Perlington House as she pleases. And since she’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, I know she’s slipped away again to spend the night with me.
“I came as quickly as I could,” she murmurs, and I scoot over so she can climb into bed with me. She rolls onto her side so we can look at each other.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know what he was planning.” Her eyes reflect so many emotions. Regret, worry, sadness, fear.
Do mine look the same?
“I know. It’s not your fault. Henry orchestrated all of this.
He would’ve ensured the contract went through despite Phil’s death.
None of it is your fault. None of it.” And that’s the bitter truth.
There’s no one to blame for my situation.
Because I agreed to marry Harlington’s heir. Even if it was already a done deal.
I had always assumed it would be Philipp, but now I know differently.
“I’m so sorry, Lia. Really. I know that you and Nic…” She winces as she sees me flinch at his name.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean… ugh… I don’t even know what to say,” she sighs, sitting up. I follow suit, letting out a sigh of my own.
“You don’t have to say anything, really. I’ll handle it. Somehow.” And I mean it.
Lizzy raises a skeptical eyebrow, studying me closely.
“Really? Because if I remember it correctly, you wouldn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for Nic.”
She puts it lightly, and my lips twitch just a little.
“No, I wouldn’t, and I won’t. But I can adapt, and most importantly, I can avoid him. Somehow, it’ll work.” The thought of spending so much time with Nicolas in the future makes my stomach drop, but I don’t let Lizzy see it, who still looks at me with deep skepticism and concern.
“I’d like to see you try that when you’re living with him and dealing with all the events and public appearances. Trust me, it’ll be damn hard to avoid my brother.” She looks at me intently, nodding in emphasis, and I have to stifle a laugh at her almost manic expression.
“Trust me, I’ll find a loophole. I can and I will. And if worst comes to worst, he’ll see that I’m not as prudish and innocent as he thinks.” I grin crookedly, and Lizzy’s eyebrows shoot up.
“If you say so. But seriously, I know Nic. He’s not as bad as he pretends to be.”
Now it’s my eyebrows that go up, and she waves a hand.
“Okay, okay, he’s as bad as he pretends to be. But he has a good heart. Phil idolized him,” she tries to reassure me again, but it doesn’t help.
“You do too, even though he treats you like crap. Thank you for trying to make this easier for me. But in this case, I can only help myself.”
Lizzy looks at me seriously again and nods.
“Yes, that’s true. But you’re the strongest person I know. You’ll get through this. And you’ll be a wonderful wife to my brother. Even if he resists it every step of the way. But if he hurts you, he’ll have me to answer to. Period.”
And even though that threat would likely just make Nicolas laugh, it means the world to me.
My heart feels a little lighter, and as I sink back into my pillow with Lizzy snuggling up to me, I feel a small sense of security.
I tuck this feeling away like a treasure in my heart.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I finally fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Lizzy is gone, leaving a note that she’ll meet me in the library this afternoon. So, I decide to go for a walk.
Just as I’m pulling a shirt over my head, there’s a brisk knock at the door, and my brother bursts into the room without waiting for me to answer.
“The queen wants to see you. You’re to appear at the palace in an hour.” He looks me over from head to toe, his gaze full of disapproval.
“And put on something more acceptable. You look like you just stepped off of the streets.” He sneers at my shirt and jeans, and deep within me, something begins to boil.
Darkly, intensely. My hand clenches into a fist, then releases, and I breathe in and out, in and out.
Over and over. The anger and hatred simmer, and I know that if I ever let this rage rise to the surface, nothing will be able to save me.
So, I take a deep breath, shove these feelings back into a locked drawer, and close it tightly.
“Good morning to you too. And thanks for asking, I’m fine,” I respond sarcastically before I can hold back. Henry’s gaze instantly darkens, and I instinctively step back. A flash of regret crosses his eyes, but it doesn’t reach me.
“Don’t be childish, Amelia. We need to present our best selves. This connection to the royal family is important. Very important.” My heart fractures again at his words, which contradict the fleeting expression in his eyes. Inwardly, I scold myself—why do I keep hoping he’ll change?
Because you love him, my ever-wise inner voice reminds me, and I close my eyes briefly, breathing in and out. Saying anything now would be pointless. So my frustration doesn’t fade. Because it’s useless.
“Tell Winston I’ll be ready to leave in half an hour.” Without sparing him another glance, I turn and slip into the bathroom. Away from him, away from the hatred he stokes, the despair he drives me toward.
I hear him take a deep breath before leaving.
Relief and pain merge into a tsunami-like wave that crashes over my head, and a sob escapes me.
Tears flow down my cheeks as I sink onto the bathroom floor and cry.
Cry for my brother, for who he once was, for myself, for what’s coming, and for Phil, who deserved to be happy.
I give myself these minutes to let go. And when there are no more tears left, when my emotions retreat into a fog of indifference, I stand up and transform myself from the woman I am, into the woman I must be.
Finally dressed and made up, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I see the mask I’ve put on, the dutiful and obedient Amelia who wants to do everything perfectly and would never, ever break free. A cage I’ve let myself be locked into.
With squared shoulders and raised chin, I walk through Perlington Hall, past my brother, who watches me with an unreadable expression, straight to the limousine, where Winston is waiting and looking at me with sad eyes.
“My lady.” He bows slightly, holding the door open for me, and I give him a small smile. Winston is the grandfather I never had, and he likely already knows what I’m feeling deep down. He has often been the one to comfort me or witness me crying, fragile and broken.
He gives a small smile, and as I climb in, he closes the door and drives me to the castle without saying another word. My stomach tightens further and sinks, possibly because I haven’t had breakfast yet. But once again, I force myself to push through and ignore the discomfort.
With each step into the castle, with each memory that surfaces in my mind, it becomes harder to keep going. My throat feels tight, and I can barely breathe. Everything reminds me of Philipp. Everything.
“Amelia. Darling…” The voice of Phil’s mother Mary pulls me out of my dark spiral. But when I look up and see her standing there in jeans and a shirt in the middle of the hall, fragile and full of sorrow, yet so strong and unwavering, all the walls break down.
She looks at me lovingly and opens her arms, pulling me into a tight embrace a second later. And again, I let go. I thought I had no more tears left after earlier, but apparently, that was a mistake.
“Oh, darling, I know. I know…” Mary soothingly strokes my back, her body trembling, and I know she is trying with all her might not to cry as well.
I love Mary. She is a wonderful queen, but an even more wonderful mother. She is everything I have always missed from my own mother. Loving, kind, warm-hearted, cheerful, and open.