Amelia
The message had been brief and unsettling:
You don’t know me, but I’d like to talk. It’s about Montgomery Industries and your future.
I’d stared at the words for a long moment, debating whether to ignore it. But the sender’s mention of Richard’s company lingered, tempting me to respond.
Curiosity won.
The address in the message led me to an exclusive private lounge in the heart of the city. The kind of place where billionaires broker deals over expensive scotch and cigar smoke hung in the air like an unspoken pact of secrecy.
I entered cautiously, the opulence of the space almost suffocating. A sleek hostess greeted me with a professional smile, and before I could even give my name, she gestured toward a secluded booth in the back.
“He’s waiting for you,” she said.
I swallowed hard, nerves prickling at the base of my neck as I approached.
And there he was.
Nicholas de vincente.
I froze for a moment, my mind racing. The man from the bar—the one who had stopped me from drowning my sorrows in whiskey—was seated casually in the booth, his dark suit tailored to perfection and his piercing blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.
“You,” I said, my voice betraying my surprise.
He stood as I approached, offering a small smile that was equal parts charming and disarming. “We meet again, Amelia . Please, sit.”
I hesitated, every instinct screaming that this was a bad idea. But I was curious—and perhaps the memory of his kindness at the bar—drove me to slide into the booth opposite him.
“You’re the one who sent the message?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
“I am,” he said smoothly, signaling a waiter to bring over two glasses of wine.
“And you know about Richard?”
A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, maybe. “I know quite a bit about Richard. More than you might think.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why don’t you start with why I’m here?”
He leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving mine. “Montgomery Industries isn’t the pristine empire it pretends to be. Richard’s been playing dirty for years—cutting corners, laundering money, and using Cindy as a front for most of it.”
I felt my breath catch, but I kept my face neutral.
He continued, his voice low and steady, “She’s more than just his mistress.”
Tell me about it.
“Cindy’s involvement goes far deeper—funneling funds into shell corporations, manipulating contracts, and covering up scandals.”
I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you deserve to know the truth,” he said simply.
“Do I?” I asked, folding my arms. “Or do you just want to use me for whatever vendetta you have against Richard?”
Nicholas’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I won’t lie and say I don’t have my reasons. Richard and I have crossed paths more times than I care to count, and let’s just say he’s not on my list of favorite people.”
“Then why involve me?”
His gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw something that almost looked like sincerity. “Because I see you, Amelia . You’re not just some trophy wife or pawn in his game. You’ve built your own reputation—your charity work, your influence in the company’s legal affairs. And yet he’s cast you aside like you’re nothing.”
My throat tightened, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“You deserve more than this,” Nicholas said, leaning forward slightly. “You deserve to be more than the collateral damage in Richard’s mess.”
The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I hated how much they resonated with me.
He straightened, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “I’m offering you a way out. Work with me, Amelia . Together, we can bring Richard’s empire to its knees.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his proposal. “You want me to betray him?”
“Consider it justice,” he said, his expression unreadable. “For everything he’s done—to you, to others.”
“And what do you get out of this?”
Nicholas’s smile returned, a hint of mischief in it this time. “The satisfaction of seeing Montgomery Industries fall. And maybe... the chance to work alongside someone I admire.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, charged with unspoken tension.
“I don’t trust you,” I said finally, my voice firm despite the doubt gnawing at me.He chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, think about it, Amelia . This is your chance to take control of your story.”
I stood, needing to put distance between us. Nicholas rose as well, his tall frame looming but not imposing.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
He nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s all I ask.”
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.
“Amelia,” he said, and when I looked back, his gaze was softer, almost vulnerable. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t forget that.”
I didn’t respond, but his words lingered as I stepped out into the cool night air.
