Amelia woke up slowly.
She was surrounded by warmth, the curtains letting in a soft light, and the rain had finally stopped.
Everything was calm for a moment.
And then she remembered, and she opened her eyes wide.
Damien slept beside her, slow and steady breathing.
She studied the lines of his jaw, the faint scar near his face, the way his hand was lightly near her arm, not quite touching it.
Protective.
Even when asleep.
Her heart beat slowly and she remembered last night.
The boardroom, her father’s fall, the tears, the confession.
He said.
His words.
I will never harm you.
She put her fingers lightly to her breast where the feeling still remained.
Hope.
Hope.
Dangerous hope.
Damien moved and his eyes opened and she met them straight away.
Morning.
His voice was human and rough and sleepy.
She smiled slightly.
“Morning.”
He didn’t move.
Just looked at her.
“Did you sleep?
The first good night’s sleep in years.
His face grew softer.
Good.
Between them hung a comfortable silence and then he sat up and rubbed his face.
“Coffee’s on the way.”
She gave a little laugh.
“Do you cook?”
I make coffee.
“Cooking is something else.
“I’ll have coffee.
He got up and went to the door and stopped.
“Amelia.”
She looked at him.
“Stay here,” she asked gently.
“Okay.”
He was gone and Amelia lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.
It all felt different.
Lighter.
But beneath the lightness, fear still waited, for the fight wasn’t over.
Her father was gone.
His influence was not.
The media.
The public.
The impending legal battles.
And somewhere out there Edward Kane was waiting.
Obsessed.
Hazardous.
Steaming.
She sat up with a jerk, the quiet shattered as the world came rushing back.
She rose and crossed to the window, where the city spread below, bright, beautiful, unforgiving.
A soft rapping interrupted her thoughts.
“Amelia?” Sophia’s voice.
She flung the door wide.
Sophia stood looking rested, her bruised wrists fading a little, but eyes full of concern.
Are you all right?”
“I don’t know.
Sophia came in and took a chair by the bedside.
“Talk to me.
Amelia folded her arms.
My father is dead.
The truth is known by the board.
Victor is scared.She stopped.
“But I’m still scared.” “Scared of what?”
“Of what is to come. Sophia got up and came over. Amelia. Your father has controlled you for years. At last you are free.” She touched his arm lightly.
“That’s scary because now you have to choose.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“Choose what?
“Who do you want to be?” Sophia asked softly.
The words struck home.
I have no idea who that is.”
Sophia gave her arm a squeeze.
“Then find out.” She backed away.
“But don’t be frightened and run away from Damien.
Amelia’s chest constricted.
Sophia, “I can see the way you look at him.Sophia smiled knowingly.
“And I see how he looks at you.” “It’s complicated.”
“Love always is.
The word floated in the air softly.
Love.
Something broke open in Amelia’s chest.
“I don’t know if I’m ready.
Then take your time.
Sophia made a move for the door.
“But don’t throw it out.”
She vanished, leaving Amelia alone, staring out the window at the city below – people living their lives, making choices, moving on.
She wanted that.
I wanted to move on too.
But there was still fear.
Damien stood in the doorway, coffee in hand, his eyes finding hers immediately.
“You good?”
“Better,” she said, but she wasn’t.
He went over and placed the cup in her hands, and she looked at it, not at him.
I’m not right.
His eyes grew sharp.
“Whut?”
“I’m afraid.”
He moved closer.
“What?” “Of what?
She met his eye.
“Of believing in you. trusting in myself Choosing wrong.”
He nodded, slowly.
“Those are legitimate fears.
He touched her hand.
“But I’m still around.” “I’m still here,” she said, softer.
And I’m not going away.”
She gave a faint laugh.
“You keep telling me that.”
“Because I keep meaning to.”
Her chest hit the words.
She put the coffee down and came closer.
“Damien.” “What?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” “I don’t know either,” he said, his eyes softening.
“But I want to try.
She couldn’t stop the words from coming out.
Something changed in his face, vulnerability, hope.
“Try what?”
She extended her hand and laid it gently on his face.
Try to believe you.
The touch made his eyes flutter closed then open again.
“Amelia.
“I can’t promise you I won’t run,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I can’t promise I won’t be scared.
She swallowed a lot.
“But I can promise I’ll remain.”
He took her hand and covered it with his.
— Enough.
She laughed through her tears.
“Really?”
“Really.
He pulled her gently to him, and she pressed her face against his chest, his heart beating strong and steady beneath her ear.
Grounding Safe.
She held him just as tight, as though he were the only solid thing remaining in her world.
Her father, her future, her sense of self, all destroyed.
But Damien stayed.
Constantly.
Now.
Patience.
She pulled herself up a little and looked up at him.
“I want to see the evidence.”
His eyes blinked.
“What? The case against my father. I want to see it.”
He looked at her face.
“You sure?”
I have to know the truth.
He grabbed her hand.
“Then let’s go.
They came down the stairs together.
The mansion was different in the daylight.
Brighter, warmer.
Alive.
He led her to his study, a room of dark wood and bookshelves, papers scattered about with a silent purpose.
He crossed to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a thick file, laying it down carefully.
“Everything’s in here.
Amelia shuddered and went to open it.
Photographs, documents, transfer records, eyewitness statements.
Evidence of murder, of corruption, of everything her father had spent years hiding.
She read each page slowly, each word cutting a little further – the signatures, the dates, the transactions, all of it pointed straight back to Richard Laurent.
At last she looked up.
“I have to make a statement.” “To the press?”
Yes.
Her voice grew louder.
“They need to know the truth.”
He leaned forward.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?
“I’ve been hiding my whole life.
Her fingers closed round the folder.
This needs to stop.
He smiled gently.
“We’ll do that then.”
They walked to the entrance where reporters were already gathered outside the gates, cameras flashing, questions flying.
Amelia didn’t bat an eye.
She walked forward, Damien at her side, and as the gates opened and the reporters flooded in, she simply lifted her hand and they stopped.
“The truth is simple.
Her voice was pure.
“My father Richard Laurent. . . . ordered the death of Marcus Vale.”
Gasping sounds ran through the crowd, cameras flashing wildly.
“She continued.
Evidence now being given.
The board has shifted.
The matter is sub-judice.She stopped.
“I’m not his daughter any more.
I am no longer his prey.
Her voice steadied rather abruptly.
I am a survivor.
The reporters pushed on with more questions, but Amelia had already turned, walking back toward the mansion with Damien at her side.
The doors closed behind them and quietly descended on her.
At last she breathed out.
“Did I do that right?”
“Perfect,” he said, smiling.
She gave a shaky laugh.
“I feel like I’m going to drop.”
He put his hand out to steady her.
“Then fall to pieces.
She leaned against him.
And tomorrow?
He cradled her gently.
We will build again tomorrow.
Her eyes were closed, the weight of it pressing down on her.
But underneath, beneath, steady and silent, hope was still there.
Somehow that was all right.