Contract marriage with Mr Knight

*AMELIA POV* The boardroom was quiet, not in a good way but in a way that made my blood run cold. Twelve people, twelve laptops, twelve faces lit up by red numbers that keep sinking. My new product line, _Veloura_, was supposed to be Cole Beauty’s comeback. It launched three days ago. Now the market price is bleeding out on every screen in front of me. I grip the edge of the mahogany table until my knuckles go white. “Again,” I say, voice flat. “What’s the update?” No one answers right away. My CFO clears his throat. “Investors are pulling out, Ms. Cole. Two already sent withdrawal notices this morning. If this keeps up, we lose 18% of our Q4 funding by Friday.” Eighteen percent. That’s not a hit. That’s a death sentence. The doors burst open before anyone can say another word. Lena, my assistant, came in, face pale, a tablet clutched in her hands like it’s a live grenade. “Amelia,” she breathes, and just my name in that tone makes my stomach drop. “You need to see this.” She doesn’t wait. She slams the tablet on the table and turns it toward me. A tweet. Anonymous page. _TruthAboutCole._ *“Cole Beauty’s new ‘miracle’ cream gave this model chemical burns. CEO doesn’t care. #BoycottColeBeauty”* Below it was a video. A pretty girl with tear-streaked makeup, holding her face to the camera. Her cheek is red, blistered. Her voice shakes as she says, “I used Veloura for two days. Look what it did to me. They told me it was safe.” Lies. All lies. Veloura passed three dermatological tests. I signed the reports myself. But lies don’t matter when they look real enough to go viral. The room erupts. “Take it down!” “Do we have legal on this?” “PR needs a statement in ten minutes!” “Enough.” My voice cuts through it, low and sharp. They all shut up. “Lena, call legal. Get a cease and desist drafted now. Marcus, trace the upload. I want the IP, the device, everything.” I point at my head of PR. “Sarah, draft a statement confirming Veloura passed all testing.” “And the investors?” One of my staff asks. I meet his eyes. “Call a meeting . Tell them I’ll be on the line in an hour. Personally.” “Yes ma’am…” they answered in unison and scattered out of the boardroom in urgency. Lena lingers for half a second, watching me. I didn’t give her time to pity me. “Go.” The door clicks shut. The silence that follows is worse. I can hear my own breathing, fast and shallow. Sweat is beading at my temple. I press both palms flat against the cold table, like if I hold on tight enough, the numbers will stop falling. But they didn’t. I don’t remember walking to my office. One second I’m in the boardroom, the next I’m standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on the 42nd floor, looking down at the city skyline like it’s a chessboard I’m losing control of. My phone buzzes. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again. I pace. Three steps one way, three steps back. My heels click against the marble like a countdown. The door opens softly. Lena entered holding a mug. “You should drink this.” She whispered I didn’t turn around. “Drop it. I can’t drink it.” She sighed and came closer, close enough that I can smell the faint lavender from her perfume. “Amelia,” she says quietly her tone filled with concern. “Breathe. You can’t fix this if you pass out.” I stop pacing, struggling to catch my breath. I rubbed my hands softly on my forehead. How could I even calm down when the hardwork I built for five years is on the brink of collapse. “Have the team found who’s behind the page?” “We’re still tracing,” she says. “The account keeps jumping servers. It’s not an amateur work.” “Not amateur? Then could it be someone professional who wants me gone?” Lena nodded. “I think so.” “Who could I have offended? And what did I do to deserve this?” I muttered in fustration. Lena held my hand softly trying to calm me down. Then my phone chimed. I blinked at the familiar number before me. I stare at it for three seconds before I answer. “Dad.” “Amelia.” His voice is smooth, too smooth. Like he’s practicing for a speech. “Come home. Now. It’s urgent.” I scoff. “Everything’s urgent to you when it’s about me losing control.” “Come home,” he repeats. “We need to talk about the company. And Michael.” Michael. My brother. The golden child who’s never worked a day in his life. “Fine,” I snap. “I will be there in ten minutes.” I hang up before he can answer. --- I finally arrived at the Cole mansion and parked my car in the garage, pushed through the front doors, and stop dead in the living room. Michael is on the sofa. He’s holding a girl I’ve never seen before. She’s young, pretty, and looks like she hasn’t slept in days. He’s got an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her back like she might break. My father sits in the center chair, hands folded, watching me like I’m the problem. Michael sees me and smiles. It’s not a nice smile. “Amelia. You’re here.” I didn’t move from the doorway. My blue purse is still clenched in my hand, like a weapon. “Why did you call me?” I ask. “Sit down,” my father says. I look between them my eyes flickering in hesitation before I finally took a seat. Michael clears his throat, nervous for once. My father sighs, like he was worried about something I didn’t know yet. “I’ve seen what’s happening with your stocks,” he says. “It’s bad, Amelia. I’m deeply concerned.” “How kind,” I say dryly. “Thanks for the concern.” He ignores the sarcasm. “This is Freya, Micheal’s girlfriend.” He said gently pointing his hand to the girl sitting beside his son. She looked down, shy, her hands twisting in her lap. Michael clears his throat again. “Freya. Say hi.” Freya gives me a small, awkward wave. Father continued, like this is a board meeting and not my life. “Freya is pregnant. Michael is becoming a family man soon. He needs stability and a source of income.” I frown. “And?” “And,” he paused and look directly in my eyes. “I know you have tried Amelia but your company is failing, it makes sense if you to hand it over to him. Why don’t you step down and get married. Let a man handle the business.” The room tilts around me. I stare at him. At Michael’s careful smile. At Freya, who won’t meet my eyes. Hand it over. To him. To the brother who’s never balanced a budget in his life. My chest goes tight and my jaw clenched. My eyes burn, but I refuse to blink. Seriously?