The Billionaire's Forgotten Bride

Amara Vale had learned very young that life didn't care how tired you were. If you were hungry, you still had to work. If you were heartbroken, you still had to smile. And if the people you loved disappeared, you simply had to learn how to live without them. At twenty-three, Amara was very good at surviving. She just wasn't sure she was still living. Her alarm rang at 5:30 a.m. She reached across the tiny bedside table and silenced it before it could wake Sofia. For a few seconds, she remained still. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. She stared at the cracked ceiling above her bed and took a slow breath. Another day. Another shift. Another collection of bills waiting for her. She climbed out of bed and pulled on the black skirt and white blouse she had ironed the night before. The blouse had a small stain near the sleeve. She covered it with her blazer. Problem solved. That was how Amara handled most things. Hide the damage. Keep moving. She walked into the kitchen and found Sofia sitting at the table. Her younger sister was nineteen, still wearing her pajamas, her textbooks spread around her. "You’re awake already?" Amara asked. Sofia looked up. "You’re leaving already?" "I have work." "You always have work." Amara smiled. "That's usually how jobs work." Sofia rolled her eyes. "You haven't eaten." "I'll eat later." "You said that yesterday." "And I'm still alive." "Technically." Amara laughed softly. She opened the refrigerator. Milk. Half a loaf of bread. Two eggs. Nothing else. She closed it. Sofia noticed. "There's enough for breakfast." "For you." "Amara—" "I'm not hungry." It was another lie. One Sofia had learned not to argue with. Amara picked up her handbag. Then she noticed the envelope sitting on the table. Her stomach dropped. She knew exactly what it was. "Where did you get that?" Sofia's eyes moved toward the envelope. "The landlord." Amara picked it up. She didn't open it. She didn't need to. They had already received two warnings. The rent was three months behind. Her salary barely covered food, transportation and Sofia's school expenses. There was nothing left. "When?" "Yesterday." "What did he say?" Sofia hesitated. "He said we have until Friday." Amara's fingers tightened around the envelope. Today was Monday. Four days. She forced a smile. "I'll handle it." Sofia stared at her. "With what money?" Amara didn't answer. "Amara." "I said I'll handle it." "But—" "Trust me." The words came out sharper than she intended. Silence filled the kitchen. Amara immediately regretted it. She walked over and hugged her sister. "I'm sorry." Sofia hugged her back. "I just don't want you doing everything alone." Amara closed her eyes. She wanted to tell Sofia that she was scared. That she didn't know how they were going to survive another month. That sometimes she lay awake at night wondering whether their father had abandoned them because he simply didn't love them enough. But she couldn't. Sofia needed a sister. Not another person to worry about. "I'm okay," Amara whispered. She pulled away. "Go back to sleep." "You too." "I'll try." Amara walked out. Seven years earlier, Amara had been sixteen. She had been young enough to believe her father was invincible. That night, he left the house. He never came back. No goodbye. No explanation. Nothing. Only an empty bedroom and a family drowning in questions. At first, everyone believed he would return. Then days became weeks. Weeks became months. Eventually, people stopped searching. But the debts remained. So did the rumors. Some said her father had stolen money. Others said he had betrayed powerful businessmen. A few whispered that he had been involved with dangerous people. Amara never believed any of them. Her father had always been kind to her. He had taught her how to ride a bicycle. He had helped her with mathematics. He had promised her that no matter what happened, he would always come home. He broke that promise. And that was the one thing Amara could never forgive. Four years after his disappearance, her mother died. After that, it was just Amara and Sofia. Two sisters. One apartment. Too many bills. And a past neither of them understood. By eight that morning, Amara was sitting behind the reception desk of a small corporate office. It was her first week at the job. She had spent months applying before finally getting hired. The salary wasn't much. But it was something. "Amara?" She looked up. Her manager stood in front of her. "Yes?" "Can you stay late tonight?" She hesitated. "I have to pick up my sister." "Just for an hour." Amara looked at the clock. Then sighed. "Fine." "Thanks." He walked away. Amara leaned back in her chair. One hour. She could manage one hour. She had managed worse. Her phone vibrated. She looked down. A message from Sofia. Sofia: Don't forget the milk. Amara smiled. Amara: I won't. She put the phone down. Then noticed something outside the office window. A black car. Parked across the street. She frowned. It had been there that morning. She had seen it when she left home. Maybe it was nothing. Probably nothing. She turned back to her computer. Five minutes later, she looked again. The car was still there. A strange feeling crawled down her spine. She couldn't see who was inside. The windows were completely tinted. Amara tried to ignore it. She had enough problems. She didn't need to invent new ones. That evening, she left work just after seven. The street was almost empty. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and started walking toward the bus stop. Halfway there, her phone rang. Unknown number. Amara stopped. She stared at the screen. She almost declined the call. Almost. Then she answered. "Hello?" Nothing. "Hello?" A man's voice finally spoke. "Amara Vale?" Her entire body went still. "Who is this?" "You don't know me." "Then why are you calling?" A pause. "I knew your father." Amara's heart began pounding. "What?" "I knew your father." "Who are you?" "You've spent seven years believing he abandoned you." Her breath caught. "What do you want?" "You deserve to know the truth." Amara gripped the phone. "What truth?" "The truth about why he disappeared." She looked around the empty street. "Where is my father?" The line went silent. Then the man said: "Ask Damian Cross." The call ended. Amara stared at her phone. She had heard that name before. Everyone had. Damian Cross. Twenty-nine years old. Billionaire. CEO of Cross Enterprises. A man who had inherited his family's empire and turned it into something even bigger. A man known for being ruthless. Cold. Untouchable. Amara had never met him. She had never even been in the same room as him. So why did he know her father's name? Her phone vibrated again. A message appeared. Unknown Number: Tomorrow. 10 a.m. Cross Enterprises. Come alone. Amara stared at the message. Then another appeared. Don't make the mistake of trusting him. She looked toward the road. The black car was there again. Parked beneath a streetlight. Watching her. This time, she knew it wasn't a coincidence. Amara slowly stepped backward. The car's headlights turned on. Her heart slammed against her chest. And then it drove away. Leaving her alone in the dark with one question burning through her mind. Who was Damian Cross—and why had he been waiting for her?