Her Bodyguard.

Chapter Two.

♡♡Amelia's Pov ♡♡

I step out of my father's study, my pulse is still racing.

My wrist aches where Hudson grabbed me. I rub the spot, trying to erase the feel of his touch, but it's useless.

I hear laughter before I even reach the living area.

That laugh.

That fake, charming, snake-like laugh that used to make me melt.

My parents are seated, perfectly composed, perfectly blind, and Hudson is right there, sitting across from them like he belongs.

A glass of wine in his hand. A smile on his lips.

He looks up and the moment our eyes meet, that smirk returns.

That victorious smirk.

My mother notices me first. "Oh, sweetheart!" she beams, "Hudson told us the good news. You two are back together. That's wonderful."

I shoot him a look.

"No.." I say, "We're not back together, and it's never going to happen."

The room falls silent.

My mom blinks, confused. "What...?"

I turn to my father. "Dad, this isn't -"

"I told you to fix it.." he interrupts, "Hudson is a good man.."

A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "A good man? I don't think so."

"You'll marry him, Amelia. It's what's best for both families."

For both families.

Of course. That's what it's always about, the company, the image, the name. Never about me.

Hudson's smile widens, like he's already won.

I might not have the best relationship with my father, but I know I'm not going to follow his decisions blindly, just to make it work between us while I get hurt in the process..

"No.." I say quietly, my voice shaking but steady, "I'm not going to marry him."

I take a slow breath, turning toward my mother, her eyes are pleading now, soft and confused.

"Some things aren't meant to be fixed." I say, my throat tight. "Let them stay broken."

And before any of them can say another word, I turn and walk away.

"Oh my goodness, Amelia? Amelia!" Mom calls after me, her voice trembling.

But I don't look back.

Not at her.

Not at my dad.

~~~~

I sigh as I step into my penthouse, its usual calm soft lights, floor-to-ceiling glass, the city stretching endlessly below, the weight of the day pressing hard against my shoulders.

My heels hit the floor with a clatter as I kick them off. The sound echoes in the silence, freeing.

I drop my bag and toss my key card aside, then collapse onto the couch, exhaling another long, heavy breath.

"Fix it? A good man?" I mutter under my breath. "My father has to be joking."

I run a hand through my hair and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling.

I can't believe Hudson would threaten me like that. But... he has to be bluffing, right?

Most importantly, my father. Not like I'm expecting any better from him.

I push myself off the couch with a shaky breath and decide to retreat to my room before my mind drives me insane.

Just then, my phone rings. The sudden sound makes me flinch.

My gaze darts to where it sits on the couch. An unknown number. I hesitate for a moment, then pick it up.

"Hello, Amelia Stone speaking." I say, keeping my voice professional.

"Ah, you picked..." a familiar male voice drawls. "I was beginning to think I'd have to come down to your private residence."

Hudson.

"What the hell is your problem?" I snap

A low chuckle slides through the line. "Amelia, I know you're still angry. How about we... go on a date, hmm? Your favorite restaurant. Just you and me, talking things out. What do you say?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "I'd say you're sick and twisted. You need to get checked into a hospital. And if that doesn't work, maybe try a psychiatrist. You really need it."

He laughs softly, that deep, sound that used to make me blush. Now it makes my skin crawl.

"So damn feisty.." he murmurs.

"f**k you.." I hiss.

"Trust me, I dream of it every day, and I can't wait to-"

I hang up before he can finish. My heart is pounding.

Slowly, I lower the phone and stare at the black screen.

I changed my number. How the hell did this bastard get it?

A dull throb starts at my temple. I press my fingers against it and exhale.

"God, I need a break.." I mutter.

~♤~

Few hours later..

I pull my door open and stop short.

Emily stands there grinning from ear to ear, holding up an expensive bottle of wine like a trophy.

"You called, I came." she announces proudly.

I raise a brow. "I told you to come, not bring half of France with you." I mutter, shaking my head as I step aside to let her in.

Emily breezes past me like she owns the place.

Without a word, she sets the wine on the glass table, then heads straight for the wine rack in the corner and pulls out two glasses.

"You sounded tired and frustrated..." she says as she works the cork loose. "Talking about that loser ex of yours, so the best therapy I know? Good wine."

A soft laugh escapes me as I drop onto the couch. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you." Emily says sweetly, pouring two generous servings.

She hands me a glass, then sinks onto the couch beside me.

We both take a sip.

"So tell me again, the bastard cheated on you and had the audacity to threaten you?" she turns toward me.

I sigh, staring into the deep red swirl of my drink. "Well... I wasn't planning to take his threat seriously." I admit slowly.

"But I don't want to take chances either. My father and I might not have the best relationship, but that company, everything he's built, is his entire life. And some stupid pig trying to ruin it is just..."

My words trail off, I toss back the rest of my wine in one go.

Emily watches me quietly, then leans back with a small smirk tugging at her lips.

"That bastard doesn't deserve you, Amelia. And if he's really serious about his threat..." She tilts her glass, her voice turning sly. "Then it's simple. We play fire with fire."

I frown, brow creasing. "I'm lost, Emily. What do you mean, 'fire with fire'?"

She swirls the wine in her glass, grinning slowly.

"Well. " she begins, half playful, half serious, "in this elite world, there are five stages."

I blink, already sensing I'm about to get a lecture.

"Stage one." Emily raises a finger. "The Public Faces. You know, influencers, minor celebrities, mid-tier heirs. The ones who live for attention, thrive on parties, and survive on connections. In elite circles, they're called scraps."

A quiet chuckle escapes me. "Sounds accurate."

She smirks, eyes glinting. "Stage two, The Corporate Princes. Business heirs, powerful CEOs, second-generation billionaires. That's where Hudson sits comfortably... and technically, you too. The difference is, Hudson knows how to play with the ones above him."

Her tone dips lower. "Which brings us to stage three, The Power Brokers, Silent investors. Politicians, Military heirs. The ones who move money and rewrite laws behind closed doors. You never see their faces, but their signatures? They can destroy an empire or build one overnight."

I exhale slowly, trying to process her words as she keeps going.

"Stage four..." Emily's eyes gleam. "The Ghost Syndicates, Security magnates, Private intelligence, Underground tycoons. They don't attend parties, they own the security, the silence."

She leans back with a satisfied smile. "Now that's where we find power strong enough to crush Hudson."

I blink at her, still trying to catch up. "Okay, impressive breakdown. But how does any of that help me 'fight fire with fire'?"

Emily's lips curve into a sly grin. "Patience, sweetie." She leans closer. "What I mean is... you get a man from Stage Four."

I just stare at her, one brow arching. "That's your plan?"

"Uh, yeah." She gives me a look, completely unbothered. "And it's a good one."

Umm..No, it's not.