Chapter 5 Are You Hurt?

• Luke exhaled heavily. The way he always did whenever he wanted to make himself the victim.
• “You’re married into one of the wealthiest families in the country.”
• “And?”
• “You should be grateful.”
• “For what exactly?”
• Luke’s voice rose. “For everything I’ve done for you!”
• Everything he’d done for her? The words were so absurd she genuinely didn’t know how to respond.
• “You can’t be serious.”
• “I raised you.”
• Amelia nearly laughed. Raised her? Really?
• After her mother died, Luke had brought Marion into the house before the grief was even cold. Then came Jolie. Then came the years of neglect. The favoritism. The constant reminders that she didn’t belong.
• Luke had provided a roof. Sure. Food. Sometimes.
• But care? Love? Protection? Those things had never belonged to Amelia. Not after her mother died.
• “Wow.” The word escaped quietly.
• “What?”
• “You really believe that.”
• “I know it.”
• Amelia looked out the window. She refused to cry over this conversation. Not anymore. “You want credit for being a parent?”
• “I want basic gratitude.”
• Her grip tightened around the phone. “You know what?” she said quietly. “I’m not asking Alexander for money.”
• His tone sharpened instantly.“Amelia, don’t be selfish.”
• Selfish. After everything. After yesterday. After the wedding.
• Amelia shook her head slowly. “I’ve given this family enough.”
• “You’ve given nothing.” Luke spoke again. Colder this time. “If you don’t get us that loan, don’t bother calling this family again.”
• Amelia frowned. “What?”
• “You heard me.”
• For a second she thought he was bluffing. Then she heard the seriousness in his voice and realized he wasn’t.
• “If you refuse to help us,” Luke continued, “then you’re no daughter of mine.”
• The words hung heavily between them. Amelia stood completely still. A strange feeling spread through her chest.
• Not sadness. Not anger. Just… Disappointment.
• Luke’s voice came again. “Think carefully before making your choice.”
• Amelia laughed softly, a broken kind of laugh. “When exactly was I your daughter?”
• The silence on the other end was immediate. And for the first time during the call, Luke had no answer.
• Amelia nodded to herself. “That’s what I thought.”
• Then she ended the call, and the room fell silent. She stared at the dark screen in her hand for several seconds.
• Waiting to feel devastated. Waiting to feel abandoned. Waiting to feel something.
• But surprisingly… Nothing came.
• ****
• A few minutes later, she made her way downstairs.
• The mansion was surprisingly quiet at night. Most of the staff had disappeared. The lights had been dimmed.
• Amelia wandered into the kitchen and immediately began opening cabinets. After several minutes of searching, she finally found what she needed.
• Fresh ginger. Lemon. Honey.
• Perfect.
• She grabbed a knife and started working. Peeling. Cutting. Grating.
• The familiar routine settled her nerves almost immediately. Her mother used to make ginger ale whenever Amelia was upset. She claimed it fixed everything.
• Heartbreak. Stress. Bad days.
• The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Amelia glanced up.
• Alexander walked into the kitchen looking significantly less intimidating than usual. Mostly because he’d changed into black sweatpants and a simple dark t-shirt.
• His hair was slightly messy.
• And somehow….somehow—
• That made him look younger.
• He stopped when he noticed her. For a second, they simply stared at each other. Then Alexander glanced at the ingredients spread across the counter.
• “Are you cooking?”
• The horror on Amelia’s face was immediate. “No.”
• He looked relieved. “I was worried for a second.”
• “Excuse me?”
• “I value my life.”
• Amelia gasped dramatically. “You don’t even know if I can cook.”
• “I don’t.”
• “Rude.”
• Alexander opened the refrigerator.
• “Realistic.”
• Amelia narrowed her eyes. “You know, for someone who got married today, you’re remarkably annoying.”
• He grabbed a bottle of water and leaned against the counter. “What are you making?”
• “Ginger ale.”
• His eyebrow lifted slightly. “You make your own?”
• “Some of us weren’t born rich, Alexander.”
• “Ah.”
• “Shocking, I know.”
• A faint smirk appeared on his face as he drank his water while Amelia stirred the mixture.
• Everything felt strangely normal. Like they weren’t two strangers forced into a marriage less than twelve hours ago.
• Eventually, Amelia glanced over her shoulder. “Do you want one?”
• Alexander looked genuinely confused. “One what?”
• “A ginger ale.”
• “I’ll survive.”
• Amelia rolled her eyes. “You act like I’m offering poison.”
• “I’ve known you for less than a day.”
• Fair.
• She pointed a wooden spoon at him. “You know what? That’s—“
• CRASH!
• A deafening sound followed. The kitchen window exploded. Glass shattered across the room.
• For a split second, Amelia froze. Her brain couldn’t process what had happened.
• Then came the sharp crack. A gunshot.
• Alexander moved instantly. No hesitation. No confusion. One second he was across the kitchen. The next—
• His arm wrapped around her waist. “Down!”
• Amelia barely had time to gasp before he slammed into her. The force sent them both crashing to the floor. Another shot rang out.
• Alexander rolled, positioning his body completely over hers. Shielding her. Protecting her.
• The impact knocked the air from Amelia’s lungs. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.
• Everything happened too fast.
• She could feel Alexander’s arm locked tightly around her shoulders. His body covering hers.
• “Stay down,” he ordered sharply.
• Gone was the calm man from five minutes ago. Gone was the dry humor and the teasing.
• This Alexander was different. Cold. Focused. Dangerous. Amelia could actually feel it. The lethal edge underneath this interior.
• Another shot echoed outside. Alexander’s eyes immediately tracked toward the broken window. Calculating. Watching.
• His jaw tightened. Every muscle in his body looked tense. For the first time since meeting him, Amelia understood something.
• This wasn’t normal. His reaction had been too fast. Too familiar. As if he’d done this before. Many times.
• He was really a mafia boss as described by the media. No jokes.
• But somehow, despite the bullets and chaos,the thing she noticed most was this:
• Alexander hadn’t thought twice.
• The moment danger appeared, he’d moved to protect her. Even now, his body remained firmly positioned over hers, shielding her from the broken window.
• A strange feeling settled in Amelia’s chest. One she couldn’t quite name.
• Alexander looked down briefly. Their eyes met. “You hurt?”
• Amelia swallowed. “No.”
• “Good.” Then his attention snapped back toward the window. And whatever softness had appeared for that brief second vanished completely.
• Because whoever had fired that shot had just made a very serious mistake.