Chapter 4: Take Responsibility
1699 Words
At first, she didn’t know where they were taking her.
A few minutes earlier, at her doorstep…
“Are you Miss Amelia?” the man upfront asked.
Amelia’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “Yes, I’m Amelia. Is there a problem?”
She waged the door to block the men from seeing the inside of her house.
“Come with us”
The man reached for her arm, not waiting for a response, he forcefully dragged her out the door.
Not waiting for a response, he held her by the arm and dragged her outside.
Back to the present…
Before she knew it, she was already in a car with two of the four men while the other two flanked them, following from behind in another vehicle.
Aside from those few words, they’d said nothing about who it was they worked for.
At least she knew it wasn’t Bobby; these men weren’t cut from the same cloth as those bastards from yesterday.
They seemed much more gentle, a lot more official than them, like a bodyguard.
Amelia's gaze darted to the man beside her and then to the man upfront, taking note of their expensive suits, she then looked behind at the other Vehicle following.
They drove an expensive car, too? What was it? A Mercedes? It had a dark tint on the side windows. No one would know if anything were to happen to her inside.
Sitting back down in her seat, she caught the gaze of the one driving; Amelia lowered her eyes to avoid any conflict that could possibly arise.
But it certainly wasn’t Bobby; they’d have done something to her by now.
She watched the scenic view on the road get smaller and smaller as they left the heart of the city, driving to the outskirts where the elites lived, where she’d once lived with her parents.
Everything felt so familiar and yet so strange—this was no place for a beggar like her, and yet the men took her past the gates.
Swerving to another gate, they entered a private residence. It was quite uncanny.
As the car moved through the clear path of trees and bushes, they came close to the estate, and a memory long forgotten played in her mind, of a little girl and little boy running amuck in these trees.
She was back here...
The car stopped in front of the estate, and Amelia came out of it, ushered by the men into the garden where a seat had been placed for two.
Again, her memories came of her family having brunch in this garden. There was a pot of tea set on the table, but she didn’t dare drink it.
The last thing she wanted was to be here in this mansion, in this garden, surrounded by these men—Amelia felt embittered.
The guard stood in wait, and not long after, the woman of the house approached, opening the double door that led inside the estate to the garden.
Mrs. Clara Hughes, the chairwoman of Kenzyl Group—if anything, hers was the face she saw the most on TV over the years, unlike her son Dax, who lay in a public hospital but was said to be recuperating abroad.
“Hello Amelia,” Mrs. Hughes took the seat opposite her.
“Madam,” Amelia stood to show respect.
“No need for formalities, have a seat.”
Amelia’s knees jerked as her feet shifted to the side. She twisted her clothes as she came to terms with herself and sat down.
“Get us new Tea, David”
One of the guards, the one that had dragged her out of her home, went to get a new pot of tea.
“So how have you been, Amelia, your mother, is she doing all right?”
Amelia's grip on her shirt tightened, her gaze fixed on the table, smiling ruefully.
What exactly is this woman playing at? Asking about her mother.
Isn’t it shameful to call her here, to say only this?
“Ma’am, your tea.” The guard came back with a new pot of tea then went to stand at the chairwoman's side.
“This chat isn’t going well, it seems.” Mrs. Hughes grabbed the pot and served tea in two cups
“Here, take it.” She handed her a cup, and Amelia accepted it with shaky hands, then she took sips of the tea.
“let’s get to the bottom of why I called you here.” Mrs Hughes's movement was controlled as she set her cup down on the table.
Amelia glanced at her and then did the same, setting her cup down.
“You visited my son, didn’t you, yesterday at the hospital?”
Amelia's breath hitched. She had a feeling that was why she’d been called.
Her gaze darted elsewhere, and she grabbed her tea, taking a few more sips, reminding herself to keep calm.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Amelia denied.
It never occurred to her that the madam would be so direct in her inquiry, though—but she would never admit what she did.
Mrs. Hughes narrowed her gaze, gauging her reaction she continued, “You didn't just visit but assaulted him as well”
“What! No, I-I didn’t—it was-just-I—”
Damn it, she knows.
Amelia twisted her shirt more incessantly; the clothes were rumpled and out of shape. She took a breath and calmed down—this was too much.
“I—did... see... him, but I never assaulted him,” her voice went down almost an octave as she whispered, “It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry for going into his room like that.”
Mrs. Hughes sighed, Gazing at the beautiful flowers that grew here in her garden “What is the point of apologizing, you need to take responsibility, Amelia. Marry My Son.”
What did she just say?
Amelia's gaze grew wide. She felt the air trapped in her lungs, and yet she still couldn’t breathe, not properly enough.
Mrs Hughes took up her cup of tea “You are surprised, it seems,” she set the cup back on the table.
“When you entered a room that was off limits to the public, you should know there would be consequences. Although it was a public hospital, you should have known better.”
It was simply a touch on the cheek; there was no need to take things this far.
“As you may know, my son got into an accident three years ago, and he’s been in a coma ever since—until yesterday when he woke up.”
Amelia's heart pounded in her chest. She remembered the accident. It was all over the news at the time—the heir to the Kenzyl group was gravely injured.
“… no one knows he was in a coma, and I’ve kept it that way for the last three years, and yet you went in Amelia, and you saw him. It almost seemed like fate connecting you both. Don’t you think you should be responsible for it?”
What the hell was she saying? This makes no sense, none at all.
“Of course, it’s only pretend, by the way. Just until he gets back on his feet, and with an incentive, so don’t worry, you won’t be doing this for free—”
“Why should I...” she muttered, wrapped up in her own world.
“What?” Mrs. Hughes asked.
“Why should I have to marry your son?” she asked quietly.
Although they were childhood friends, that was in the past. She wouldn’t need to do this.
“Our families have no relationship—not anymore, it-it makes no common sense that I marry your son?”
The atmosphere was filled with a suffocating pressure, and Amelia could feel the heat of it.
“You were the first person he saw when he woke up.”
“Why does that matter?” Amelia stared at Mrs. Hughes, dazed.
“He thinks you are his wife. Dax he—”
Her heart contracted, beating loudly in her chest, painfully so.
“Then you tell him I’m not,” Amelia whispered, her heart racing.
“It’s not that simple, Amelia. For some reason, he is holding on to the idea of you as his wife, and according to the doctor, inciting him will only hinder any progress he could make during therapy.”
“No, I can’t-it …” this wouldn’t be right.
The Hughes were a cutthroat bunch; she couldn’t involve herself or her family with them… not again.
“A million,”
Mrs. Hughes's voice brought her back to the present.
“What?”
“I’ll pay you a million dollars for each month you stay with him, you’d only be acting a role. You need money, don’t you, for your mother, not to mention to cover your debt.”
Amelia stared, stunned by Mrs. Hughes's words. Her cheeks grew red with every second of the humiliation.
“I’m willing to pay for this, Amelia, why don’t you take it?”
“Stop it... just stop it,” she had heard enough. She bit her lower lip and then continued, “I am not for sale.” She gritted each word out, her emotion getting the best of her.
Her heart ached, and her pride was hurt. What the rich wouldn’t do to get their way. And they were using it to tie her down to do their bidding.
How was this any different from selling herself... her body?
“I will be honest; I do need money, but not from you or your family.” Amelia gradually stood up, she’d heard enough.
“I beg to differ, David, get the document.” The guard pulled up a file and got some documents out, setting them on the table. “Here, read this.”
“What is this? Amelia grabbed the document, opening a page.
“What the Davis family owes me. A debt of one billion, yet to be paid in the last ten years”
- Writer
