Forbidden Attraction

3. Family

Amelia's POV:

The next morning, I stand at the window, staring at the mess outside. Men in uniform scrub the ground where Mr. Thompson's blood stains our parking lot. A gunshot, they said it was. I try to recall the night before—nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would indicate such violence. Everything was peaceful, eerily so.

Maybe they used a silencer.

But why? Why would anyone go through the trouble to make it quiet, to keep it hidden? Mr. Thompson wasn't the kind of man who crossed people—at least, not the kind you'd expect to end up like this. A chill runs down my spine. There's something far more sinister at play than we all realize.

As I stood there, lost in thought, one of the assistants approached me. He cleared his throat, pulling me out of my daze.

"Miss Carson," he said formally, his tone carefully controlled. "Your father has asked to see you in the office room."

I nodded, trying to push the uneasy thoughts of Mr. Thompson out of my mind. My father rarely summoned me like this. Something was off, and I could feel it in the air. With one last glance at the cleaning crew outside, I straightened my posture and made my way toward the office.

In the office room, there they were—Mom and Dad—sitting in the office room, side by side. The air felt thick with something unsaid, and it made me uneasy. They never called me in like this, at least not together.

"What's going on?" I asked, glancing between the two of them. Neither answered immediately. Instead, they just exchanged a silent look, as if deciding who would speak first. My confusion grew, and a knot formed in my stomach. Whatever this was, it wasn't good.

"Mom? Dad?" I prompted again, my voice softer this time, but still, the silence hung between us like a loaded gun waiting to go off.

Mom was the first to break the silence. Her voice was soft, almost trembling. "Amelia, I'm so sorry. I know your birthday wasn't what you dreamed of... it should've been perfect."

I could see the guilt in her eyes, the way she wrung her hands together, and I immediately felt the need to comfort her. "Mom, it's okay," I said gently, stepping closer. "It wasn't your fault. We couldn't have known..." My words trailed off, still unsure of what exactly we were talking about, but wanting to ease her guilt nonetheless.

I took a seat across from them, trying to gather my thoughts, when Dad cleared his throat loudly, pulling both of our attention to him. His face was serious, his expression unreadable.

"Alright, let's get to the point," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. He looked over at Mom, waiting for her to continue, but there was an urgency in his eyes, like whatever was coming next couldn't wait much longer.

I sat up straighter, bracing myself for what felt like the calm before the storm.

Dad finally spoke, his voice carrying that heavy, authoritative tone that only dads seem to master. "Amelia," he began, leaning forward slightly, his eyes fixed on mine, "you're not a child anymore. You're grown up now, and with that comes responsibilities. It's time you start thinking about your future, about how you'll manage things. Life isn't all fun and games."

I blinked, completely thrown off. What was he talking about? I had always been responsible. I was excellent in my language classes, never missed a step in dance, nailed every move in defense training, and could play music as well as any seasoned performer. Not to mention, I had perfected every lesson in etiquette they'd ever thrown at me.

Yet here I was, sitting through a lecture on "growing up" and "responsibilities" like I hadn't already proven myself a hundred times over. I could feel confusion swirling inside me, and I couldn't help but wonder—why now? What had I done wrong?