Contract marriage with Mr Knight

New threat looming

“You see that?” The voices said out loud enough for me to hear.

“Amelia Cole is at the top.”

“Gosh, that girl is a genius!”

I pushed my away into the crowd of students gathered, phones camera flashed, whispers of _‘congrats’_ and _‘no way’_. My name sat right there, inked in black, above everyone else’s.

Beside me, a guy stood watching in awe, my finger traced my name and I grinned like I’d just won the war.

“Did you see it Jordan?” I said to him in excitement. “I did it!”

He smiled widely at me and pulled me into a hug.

Rain was falling when I got home, I was drenched from head to toe. But my excitement made me care less. I ran through the front door, a scholarship letter in my hand.

“Dad! I made it!” I screamed out loudly.

He was in the living room looking unfazed. Michael was sprawled on the sofa beside him, scrolling his phone like the world owed him a headline.

Dad didn’t stand up or smile.

“Sit down, Amelia.” He said flatly.

My smile faded and my mind buzzed with different thoughts as I sat on a sofa. What’s going on? Why isn’t he happy?

“You’re going to give that scholarship to Michael,” his voice cut through my thought harshly.

The room went quiet. The rain stopped sounding like celebration in my ear and started sounding like a warning.

“What?”

“Michael has a brighter future than you,” Dad said, not looking at me. “He’ll carry the family name properly. You’re a girl and will get married eventually.”

My hands started shaking. The letter felt heavy, like it could cut me.

“But Dad, I earned this—”

Before I could finish Michael stood up and snatched the letter from my hand.

“Thanks, sis,” he said, grinning wide, shaking it in the air like a trophy. “Dad is right! You are better off in marriage.”

Dad didn’t stop him. He just looked away.

****

“Impossible.”

My voice cut through the living room now, steady and cold. I was on my feet before I realized I’d stood up.

“I’m not the 19-year-old you bullied into silence anymore, Dad?” I paused and scoffed. “Stop building your life on other people’s success. It’s pathetic.”

His jaw clenched. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’m just trying to keep this family balanced.”

Michael leaned forward.

“Amelia, be considerate for once. Stop playing hard to get.”

I smirked and tilted my hair back behind my ear, slow, like I had all the time in the world.

“Considerate? You want considerate? Here’s considerate: learn to stay on your own and stop latching on other peoples glory like a leech.”

They all gasped. Michael cleared his throat and looked away in embarrassment.

His embarrassment gave me a satisfaction. Seeing him feel bad for all he had done gave me a relief.

Freya finally spoke, voice small but sharp. She rested a hand on her stomach.

“Please sister-in-law, think about the baby. Michael needs to provide for us.”

I let out a short, humorless smirk.

“Then he should’ve learned to provide before he learned to get a girl pregnant. My company isn’t a dowry, and I’m not paying for your starter pack.”

Her mouth went open. It was said she lost all sense of talking.

My phone chimed in my purse.

PA Lena: _The board are in the meeting room. When are you coming?

I looked at my father, then at Michael’s furious face, then at Freya’s dropped jaw.

“I have a meeting to attend. Something way more important than your pathetic son’s ego.”

I rolled my eyes, smacked my lips to make the red lipstick on it pop, and walked out.

Behind me, I could here Dad’s chair scraped the floor. Michael cursing under his breath.

The city outside was chaos.

Protesters lined the front of Cole Beauty HQ, signs screaming _#BoycottColeBeauty_ and _LIAR_. Cameras flashed the second I stepped out of the car.

“Ms. Cole! Is Veloura safe?”

“Do you admit the scandal?”

“Are you stepping down?”

My bodyguards moved fast, shielding me, pushing a path through. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t give them a soundbite to twist.

The boardroom doors opened with a hiss.

Lena was already there, tablet in hand, her face tight. The rest of the board sat stiff, some avoiding my eyes.

“Cancel Veloura,” said Victor from Finance before I even sat down. “Pull it now before we lose the rest of the investors. We can rebrand later.”

“Rebrand?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “We rebrand and we admit guilt. We pull it and we hand them the win.”

“We’re bleeding money, Amelia,” said my CFO. “Sentiment doesn’t matter if we’re bankrupt.”

I was about to answer when every phone in the room chimed at once. The board members look at their phones and murmured.

Lena’s eyes flicked to her tablet. She paled.

“Amelia… you need to see this.”

She turned the screen toward me.

A sleek black logo. _Luxe Noir Cosmetics._

A voice, smooth and familiar sounded underneath:

“We’re Luxe Noir. Luxury shouldn’t cost your face. Our new line launches today at half the price of overrated brands. Safe, tested and honest.”

Below it, a countdown. 48 hours to launch.

“What?” I muttered in shock.