Bound To The Cold Tycoon

7 : Facing The Rival

The café was quiet, tucked away from the bustle of Manhattan, but the tension inside crackled like static. Amelia sat by the window, her fingers wrapped around a mug of untouched coffee. She hadn’t agreed to this meeting—Clara had summoned her, and against her better judgment, Amelia had come.

Across the table, Clara lounged with effortless poise, a predatory smile playing on her crimson lips. “You came. I was afraid the little bride would be too… fragile.”

Amelia’s jaw tightened. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Clara’s laugh was soft, condescending. “Straight to the point. I like that. You see, Amelia, Alexander and I—” she leaned forward, her voice dripping with false intimacy, “—we have history. Real history. Do you honestly think a paper marriage can erase that?”

Amelia’s heart clenched, but she refused to flinch. “If you had history worth keeping, you wouldn’t be sitting here, trying to intimidate me.”

Clara’s smile faltered, just for a second. Then she leaned back, swirling her cappuccino as though she held all the cards. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darling. The media already adores me. Alexander’s world already respects me. You? You’re a nobody—a charity case wrapped in a wedding dress. Do yourself a favor and leave before you get burned.”

Amelia set her mug down with a soft clink. Her hands were steady now, her voice calm but edged with steel. “You think I’m here because I want this marriage? You think I want Alexander’s cold affection? No, Clara. I’m here because I refuse to be another woman crushed under people like you.”

Clara’s eyes narrowed.

Amelia leaned in, her voice low but firm. “So let me make something clear—you can smear my name, you can spin your stories, but I won’t run. I won’t hand him over. You had your chance, and you lost it. Now it’s my turn, whether either of us likes it or not.”

For a moment, silence blanketed the table. Then Clara laughed, though it was thinner this time, brittle around the edges. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But spirit won’t save you when Alexander gets bored.”

Amelia met her gaze without blinking. “We’ll see.”

⸻

Outside, Amelia’s legs trembled as she walked back to the car, but inside, a strange fire burned. For the first time since the wedding, she hadn’t felt like a pawn. She had faced Clara head-on, and she hadn’t broken.

And though Alexander might never admit it, Amelia vowed that one day, he would see her strength too.