A baby with the Ruthless Billionaire

The grand church bell tolled, their deep chimes echoing across the sprawling gardens of Autumn Hill Chapel. Inside, Amelia Hamilton stood before a full-length mirror in a bridal suite, her hands trembling as she adjusted the lace veil falling down her shoulders. She was amazed at how stunning she looked. Her hazel eyes, framed with long lashes, sparkled with nervous excitement. Her white gown fitted her slender body perfectly. It was everything she had dreamed of. “Deep breaths, Amelia” murmured her best friend, Helen, who stood beside her, fussing with the trail of her gown. Amelia, you are just nervous. It's normal you're about to marry the man of your dreams. Amelia weakly nodded, the shadow of doubt lingered in her mind. She was so certain about Richard. He was charming and attentive and generally cared about her. But recently something felt different about him. His warmth is cold, and his touches are less tender. The door cracked open, and her stepmother Joanna charged in with her usual air of authority. Joanna was putting on a navy dress and her sharp eyes surveyed Amelia critically. “Amelia, stop fidgeting”, she snapped her tone harshly.You don't want to look like a nervous wreck in front of our guests. Remember a lot of family and friends have gathered together, so you have to behave properly so as not to ruin your family reputation.” Amelia beat her lip, swallowing her words. Joanna had never been maternal and hadn't shown Amelia any motherly care from the first day she stepped foot in the house till the day that she wanted to finally get married and leave the house. Her coldness is stronger today than usual. “Richard is waiting,” Joanna added, her voice softening slightly. “Put yourself together and make this a day to remember.” Amelia watched Joanna leave the room. Helen squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You have got this,” she said. “Amelia stepped into the hallway, the grandeur of the day enveloped her. But just as she walked, she was about to make her way to the altar. She heard a conversation from a side room which caught her attention. The voices were familiar to her and, as she expected, it was Richard's deep voice and Emily's outburst laugh. Amelia moved closer, her steps, hesitant. The door was slightly opened and through the crack she saw them. Richard, dressed in a tailored suit, was sitting casually against a table while Emily stood beside him, her manicured fingers trailing along his arm. “You're really going through with it?” Emily twisted her voice, tripping with mockery. Emily laughed, making a melodic sound. “Poor Amelia. She actually thinks you love her. How adorably naive” Amelia's breath hitched. She couldn't believe that those words were coming from Emily. She felt as though the ground beneath her had varnished. Her face was covered with tears, and she crunched the door frame for support. Unable to stay silent, she pushed the door open, her voice trembling with fury. “How could you?” Richard and Emily froze. They had smoking expressions. “Amelia”, Richard began, his tone played with annoyance rather than remorse. “Don't you say another word”, Amelia interrupted, her voice rising. “Don't you dare try to explain this, I heard everything”. Emily rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, relax Amelia. It's not the end of the world. Richard was never yours to begin with.” Amelia clenched her hands, anger boiling over. “How could you do this to me, Emily? You're my sister!” “Stepsister”, Emily corrected with a smirk. “Let's be honest, you don't have a chance with Richard. He is only trying to do you a favor.” Tears rolled down Amelia's cheek, but she refused to let them see her crumble. “You are both despicable,” she spat. She turned and headed out of the room, ignoring Richard's attempt to call her back. She ran as fast as she could be away from the altar. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to escape. She made a stop at a bar that was lit dimly along a quiet street. She made her way into the bar. She approached the bartender. The bartender, a middle-aged man with a kind face and tired eyes, raised an eyebrow as she placed her veil on the counter. “What can I get you?” he asked, his voice neutral. “Something strong” Amelia replied, her voice raw from crying. The bartender nodded, pouring a high glass of bourbon. She took it without hesitation. It didn't take away her pain. By the time she ordered her second drink, the room had started to blur slightly. She stared at the glass, and couldn't believe how her whole life changed so quickly. Just hours ago, she was a bride to be filled with dreams of a happy future. Now she was a jilted woman, her trust shattered by the two people she thought she could count on. “Mind if I sit here?” A deep voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see a man standing beside her. He looked dejected, his eyes heavy and one could tell that he had a lot of drink. His fiancée had just left him for a man she believes would take better care of her. “Suit yourself,” Amelia muttered, turning back to her drink. The man sat down, signaling to the bartender for a whiskey. “Rough day?” he asked. His tone light but curious. Amelia let out a bitter laugh. “You could say that”. “You don't seem like someone that should end up here. Special occasion?” He asked. “Something like that,” she replied. After a pause, Amelia seemed more comfortable with Richard around, and she found herself talking. They engage in a warm conversation. Then, without thinking, Amelia found her lips brushing against his. It was impulsive and reckless, but she didn't care. One thing led to another and, before she knew it, they were leaving the bar together, her hand in his as they stepped into the cool night air. Lucas led her to his room in the hotel close to the bar. They surrender to the moment, just two broken souls seeking solace in each other.