Chapter 3: The Ex
1700 Words
The ride to St. Michael’s Hospital was silent.
Amelia sat in the back of the black SUV, the ring on her finger feeling like it weighed 10 pounds. Damian was beside her, typing furiously on his phone. His jaw was tight. Every few seconds his thumb would pause, like he was deleting and rewriting a text.
“You don’t have to do this,” Amelia finally said. “See your dad. Not with me.”
Damian looked up. “I do. He’s dying. And he wants to meet the woman carrying his grandchild before he goes.”
Right. The grandchild. Not her child. His.
She nodded and looked out the window. Port Harcourt blurred past. She kept thinking about the last line from the lawyer: Mrs. Blackwood.
It didn’t feel real. It felt like she was wearing someone else’s life.
They pulled into the private wing of the hospital. Guards were already at the entrance.
“Mr. Blackwood,” one of them said, opening her door. “We’ve had reports of media outside. And Ms. Victoria Ashford is in the lobby.”
Damian’s expression darkened. “Victoria.”
Amelia didn’t know that name. But the way he said it made her stomach drop.
“Who is she?” Amelia asked quietly as they walked through the glass doors.
“My ex-fiancée,” Damian said. “We were engaged for 2 years. It ended 6 months ago. Badly.”
Oh.
So the furious ex-fiancée from the phone call.
“She’s probably here to cause a scene,” Damian continued. “Ignore her. Say nothing. Let me handle it.”
Amelia wanted to say I’m not good at scenes. But she just nodded.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and money. Private rooms. Fresh flowers. Nurses who smiled too wide when they saw Damian.
Room 412.
Her father-in-law. A man she’d never met.
Damian pushed the door open.
Inside was a man in his late 60s, thin in the hospital bed, but with the same sharp jaw as Damian. Same gray eyes. An oxygen tube under his nose. But he was sitting up. Alert.
And he was smiling.
“Damian,” the old man said, voice weak but warm. “You came.”
“Dad,” Damian said. For the first time since Amelia met him, his voice softened. “This is Amelia.”
All eyes turned to her.
Amelia swallowed. “Mr. Blackwood. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Please,” he said. “Call me Arthur.” He studied her for a long moment. Then his eyes dropped to her stomach, barely showing under the navy dress. “So. You’re the one.”
Amelia felt her face burn. “Yes, sir. I mean— Arthur.”
Arthur chuckled. “Sit, child. Both of you.”
They sat. Two chairs by the bed. Close, but not touching.
“I’m glad you did this, son,” Arthur said to Damian. “I was worried you’d die alone in that penthouse with your spreadsheets.”
Damian almost smiled. “The board would approve.”
“The board can go to hell,” Arthur said, then coughed. A nurse appeared instantly with water. “I want to meet my grandchild. I want to know my son has someone.”
His eyes went back to Amelia. Kinder now. “Are you okay? This can’t be easy.”
The question caught her off guard. No one had asked her that.
“I’m... managing,” she said honestly. “Thank you for asking.”
Arthur nodded. “Good girl. Damian, take care of her. She looks tired.”
Before Damian could answer, the door flew open.
“Arthur? I heard you had visitors—”
The woman stopped mid-sentence.
Victoria Ashford.
Tall. Blonde. Designer dress. Diamond earrings that probably cost more than Amelia’s yearly rent. And eyes that went straight to Amelia’s hand. To the ring.
Her face went from shock to rage in 2 seconds.
“Damian,” Victoria said, voice dripping ice. “What is this?”
“Victoria,” Damian stood. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Shouldn’t be here?” Victoria laughed, but it wasn’t nice. “I just got a call that my ex-fiancé secretly married some waitress 3 hours ago. And you’re telling me I shouldn’t be here?”
Amelia froze. Waitress.
Arthur frowned from the bed. “Victoria. Watch your tone.”
“Don’t Victoria me, Arthur,” she snapped. “You know what this looks like? You’re dying, so he panicked and knocked up some girl to get your inheritance. It’s pathetic.”
“Enough,” Damian said. His voice was low. Dangerous. “Apologize to my wife.”
Wife. The word hit Amelia like a slap.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. She looked Amelia up and down. “Wife? Please. She’s a gold digger. I did a background check in 10 minutes. Amelia Carter. Waitress. $40,000 in debt. Sick father. How much did he pay you, huh?”
Amelia stood. Her hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was anger.
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Amelia said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “And you don’t get to talk about my father.”
Victoria smiled. “Oh, she has a spine. Cute.” She turned to Damian. “You’re making a mistake. We had a deal. Our families—”
“Our deal is over,” Damian cut her off. “It’s been over for 6 months. Don’t make me have security escort you out.”
Victoria looked like she wanted to scream. Instead, she turned to Arthur. “You’re letting him do this? Marrying her? She’s nobody.”
Arthur sighed. “Victoria, I’ve known you since you were 12. You’re a smart girl. But you lost Damian a long time ago. Let it go.”
For a second, Victoria’s mask cracked. Hurt flashed across her face. Then it was gone.
“Fine,” she said. “But this won’t last. Contract marriages never do.”
She looked right at Amelia. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Mrs. Blackwood.”
She turned and walked out, heels clicking on the tile.
The room was silent.
Amelia sank back into the chair. Her heart was pounding.
“I’m sorry,” Damian said quietly. “I told you to let me handle it.”
“You did,” Amelia said. “I just... didn’t like her talking about my dad.”
Arthur reached out a frail hand and patted Amelia’s. “You did good, child. She’s been trying to get back in his life for months. You shut her down.”
Amelia didn’t feel like she shut anyone down. She felt exposed.
They stayed for another 20 minutes. Arthur asked about her job, about her dad. He didn’t ask about the contract. He just looked at her like she was real.
When they left, Damian didn’t speak until they were back in the SUV.
“She’ll try something,” he said finally. “Victoria doesn’t lose well.”
“I’m not scared of her,” Amelia lied.
Damian looked at her. Really looked. “You stood up to her. Most people don’t.”
Amelia shrugged. “I’m tired of being pushed around.”
For a second, something like respect crossed his face.
They got home to the penthouse at 5PM. Movers had already brought her two bags from her apartment. That was it. Her whole life fit in two bags.
A housekeeper showed her to the guest wing. Separate bedrooms, just like the contract said.
Her room was huge. Bigger than her whole apartment. White sheets. Big window. And on the dresser, a card.
Welcome home, Mrs. Blackwood.
— D
No “Damian.” Just “D.”
She sat on the bed and cried for the first time since signing. Not because of Victoria. Not because of the contract.
Because she was alone.
Her phone buzzed. Her dad.
[Baby girl, treatment went well today. Nurse said a new donor paid for next 3 months. Who did that?]
Amelia stared at the message. Then looked at the card on the dresser.
She didn’t answer her dad. She couldn’t.
At 9PM, there was a knock.
Damian stood in the doorway. He’d changed into black sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked younger. Less CEO. More human.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Amelia nodded.
He walked in and sat in the chair across from the bed. Far. Respecting Clause 5.
“I had legal send you a copy of your visitation schedule,” he said. “And the medical team will be here tomorrow for your first checkup.”
“Okay,” she said.
Silence.
“Victoria’s going to make this hard,” Damian said. “She has connections. She’ll talk to the press.”
Amelia hugged a pillow. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Just... stay. For the year. And be okay.”
Amelia looked at him. “Why did you really pick me, Damian? You could’ve picked anyone.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“Because you left,” he said finally. “That night. You didn’t ask for my number. You didn’t ask for money. You just left. And I’ve spent 3 weeks wondering why.”
Amelia’s chest tightened. “Because I couldn’t afford to want anything.”
Damian nodded. He stood. “Get some rest, Amelia. Tomorrow will be worse.”
“Worse how?”
“The press. My board. My mother.” He paused at the door. “But you won’t be alone in it. I’m in it too now.”
He left. The door clicked shut.
Amelia lay back on the giant bed and stared at the ceiling.
She was Mrs. Blackwood now.
And somewhere in the city, Victoria Ashford was planning her next move.
Amelia closed her eyes.
Survive. That’s all she had to do. For one year.
”END of Chapter 3
1. Victoria is angry and connected. She won’t stop.
2. The press + board + Damian’s mother are coming next.
3. Dad’s treatment is being paid for — but he doesn’t know by who.”
- Writer
