I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace envelop me. "I never knew love could feel like this," I murmured, my voice filled with contentment.
"Me neither," he replied, his fingers gently playing with my hair. "But I wouldn't trade i...
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Tyler Harrington
As I carried Amelia into the house, I could feel Gareth's eyes boring into us, but I ignored him. Amelia wasn't comfortable walking in heels—no big deal. I could tell she wasn't used to such luxuries, not even comfortable shoes. As I held her, her small frame nestled against me, it was hard to miss the spark of excitement in her eyes when she saw her new room.
For the first time, those big brown eyes lit up, glittering like stars. It felt good, seeing her react positively for once. I could sense the tiniest glimmer of hope, but I knew this was just the beginning. After reassuring her, I left her room and headed to my own, already feeling the strain of the day creeping in.
Once I was alone, I opened my laptop, immediately pulling up the camera feeds. Yeah, I had a camera installed in her room—just for her safety, I told myself. I wasn't spying on her, but after everything she'd been through, I didn't trust anyone, not even myself, to ensure her well-being. It was precautionary.
After I left, she sat on the couch for a moment, lost in thought, before shaking her head and heading into the dressing room. I'd disabled the cameras in there out of respect, so I waited, drumming my fingers on the desk.
When she emerged in her pajamas, she looked relaxed but also tense—like she was fighting with herself. She threw herself onto the bed, wrapping the blanket around her like a shield. She was fragile, more so than she'd ever let on. Watching her fall asleep, I felt this strange pang in my chest.
The urge to be close to her overtook me. Before I knew it, I was walking to her room again, quietly slipping inside. She was curled up into a little ball, so small and delicate. She didn't belong here, in this world of wealth and schemes. She deserved peace, security. I sat beside her and gently stroked her hair, her soft breathing lulling me into a sense of calm I rarely felt.
"I wish you could speak and tell me everything, Strawberry," I whispered, brushing a stray hair from her face. I kissed her cheek, lingering for just a second longer than I should have. I wanted her to open up, to trust me, but I knew that wouldn't happen overnight.
I sighed, standing up and leaving the room. There was too much work to be done to sit around brooding.
Gareth was already waiting for me in my study, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. "So, did she talk yet?" he asked, the teasing tone barely masking his genuine concern.
I frowned, sinking into the chair. "She just got here. She's terrified of me, Gareth. I don't know why, but I can't even get close to her without her flinching. I gave her space, but who knows if that'll help. I don't even know if she can talk or if it's just something else."
Gareth looked thoughtful, but then his usual smirk returned. "Maybe Amber's brother knows something. He was with her, after all."
I raised an eyebrow. "Wait, why wouldn't that be a good idea? Unless—oh, come on, Gareth! Do you like her or something?" I couldn't help but wiggle my eyebrows at him.
And there it was—a blush. The great Gareth, blushing. "You're blushing, man!" I laughed, the first genuine laugh I'd had all day.
He rolled his eyes. "Shut up. We've got bigger things to focus on. Did you get the info on the next strike?"
I nodded, sobering up. "Yeah, everything's set. This has been years in the making, and we can't screw it up now. It's Mom's legacy."
Gareth's face softened. "She'd be proud of us."
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll make her proud. But we've got work to do."
The next morning, I woke up early, more out of habit than necessity. Normally, I skip breakfast, but today I decided to have breakfast with Amelia. I wanted to see her. Maybe we could talk a bit, break the ice.
Lilian, our maid, had set the table. Gareth was already there, sipping his coffee. "Where's Sisty?" he asked.
Sisty. I liked that he'd given her a nickname. It was familiar, warm—something she desperately needed.
"I'll go call her," I said, brushing past Lilian.
When I reached her door and knocked, it took a moment before she opened it. My heart sank at the sight of her trembling. Her wide, frightened eyes met mine, and I could see the fear etched into every line of her face.
"What happened? Did someone say something, or... did you have a nightmare?" I asked, stepping toward her. She recoiled. It hurt, but I forced myself to stay calm. "It's okay, you don't have to be scared. Just tell me—"
She thrust a piece of paper into my hands. I took it, reading the words scrawled on it.
I'm sorry for oversleeping. I'll never let it happen again. Please don't punish me.
Punish her?
"Amelia, do you really think I'd punish you?" My voice came out more incredulous than I intended, and she flinched again. This time, her whole body began shaking, and tears welled in her eyes. Before I could react, she bolted to the bathroom.
Gareth appeared behind me, his face serious. "She had a panic attack," he said quietly.
I rubbed my face, frustration bubbling to the surface. "She thinks I'm like him. Like Dave. How am I supposed to fix this if she won't even look at me without fear?"
"You can't force trust, Ty," Gareth said softly. "She's been through hell. Give her time."
I wanted to do more than just wait. I wanted to protect her, comfort her. But I couldn't if she kept shutting me out.
"Maybe Dr. Brown can help," Gareth suggested. "He knows trauma better than anyone."
I nodded. "Yeah... maybe." But deep down, I knew this wasn't something a therapist could fix overnight. I had to do more.
I spent the rest of the morning thinking, planning. I ended up at Mom's grave, like I always did when I needed guidance. Sitting beside her headstone, I laid the flowers down, my fingers tracing the engraved letters of her name.
"Mom, I don't know what to do. She's so scared of me. She thinks I'm like him, and I don't know how to make her see that I'm different. I'm not going to hurt her, but she won't let me close enough to prove it."
As I sat there, an idea sparked in my mind. A smile crept onto my face, and I stood up, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
"Thanks, Mom. I know exactly what to do."
I hurried to my car, calling my PA, Lucy, on the way.
"Reschedule all my meetings for today," I ordered. "I've got something important to take care of."
When I returned home, I knocked on Amelia's door. She opened it cautiously, her eyes still wary.
"Can I come in?" I asked gently.
She nodded, stepping aside.
"I need your phone number," I said, trying to soften my tone.
Her eyes widened, and she looked confused.
"Wait... don't tell me you don't even have a phone?"
