CHAPTER 4
1599 Words
Amelia’s POV
The day of the wedding came faster than I anticipated. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, not knowing the girl who stood looking back at me. The dress—a very expensive exquisite gown of ivory lace—fit me perfectly, but nothing about this moment felt right.
As I stared at myself in the grand dressing room of the Sinclair mansion, the weight of my decision settling heavily, a sharp knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called, my voice steady but fragile.
The door creaked open and Vanessa Whitmore stepped inside. I stiffened on seeing her. Vanessa was dressed elegantly, her presence commanding as always.
“Quite the bride,” she commented, her voice smooth as silk. She approached me slowly, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “I must say, I didn’t think Damian would go through with it.”
My heart raced but I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to show the discomfort her words sparked within me.
“It’s not really my choice,” I replied, my voice even.
Vanessa chuckled as she stepped closer, her gaze drifting to my reflection in the mirror. “You’ll find out soon enough that nothing in this family is ever truly a choice. Damian makes his own rules. And he plays the long game.”
My throat tightened. Vanessa’s words were cryptic, but they hit me with a sense of truth. Damian had been distant since the engagement was arranged—more focused on the mechanics of our union than any form of relationship.
She took a step back, her smile never faltering. “Just remember, darling, I’ve been in this family a lot longer than you. And I know Damian better than you ever will.”
The implication of her words hung in the air. Vanessa’s presence here, the way she spoke and watched me—everything about her made me feel like a prey caught in the unrelenting gaze of a predator.
Was Vanessa in love with Damian? Or was this just a game of power—one that I was completely unprepared for?
The sound of footsteps approached, and we both turned to see Damian standing at the doorway. His expression was as vague as ever.
“Vanessa,” Damian said, his voice tight. “I believe Amelia needs some privacy.”
Vanessa gave a small laugh before stepping away. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of intruding.” She turned to me, her smile still in place “Best of luck, darling.”
As Vanessa left the room, the tension she left behind was almost suffocating. I turned to Damian, searching his face for some sign of what had just transpired, but he remained as stoic as ever.
“We should begin,” he said simply, motioning for me to follow him.
————————-
The wedding was nothing like I had imagined growing up. It was a cold, formal affair held in the grand ballroom of the Sinclair mansion. It was attended by the city’s elite—business partners, politicians, and anyone important enough to be invited.
I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm, my heart pounding in my chest. My father’s hand shook slightly as he passed me over to Damian, but the moment was quick, and the formalities continued as though it meant nothing.
Damian stood tall, a perfect image of control, barely looking at me. I stood there beside him, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to steady myself, clutching the bouquet like a lifeline .I glanced at him, but he was already staring straight ahead.
The officiant’s voice went on, but the words didn’t register. All I could think about was the tension in the air, thick enough to choke on and there was Vanessa Whitmore, who sat just beyond the altar, her eyes glued to me.
I hadn’t dared to look at her since we entered the ballroom, but I could feel her gaze like sharp daggers on me. I knew she was waiting, waiting for her moment to remind me, and everyone else, that she wasn’t going anywhere.
The officiant’s voice rose as he turned to us, signaling it was time for the vows. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I wasn’t ready, not for this.
“Amelia?” the officiant prompted, pulling me from my thoughts. His gaze softened as he leaned closer. “Your vows, my dear.”
“I...” I opened my mouth to speak, the words caught in my throat, barely forming when the explosive sound of glass shattering echoed through the room.
A sharp, sudden crash interrupted the moment, shattering the fragile silence and I jumped, my breath catching in my throat.
I turned to the source of the noise.
It was Vanessa.
She stood near the champagne table, her hand casually lowering from the glass she had ‘accidentally’ dropped, the remnants of glass on the floor around her feet.
The guests murmured, heads turning in her direction, but she simply smiled. A slow, deliberate smile that made my skin crawl. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine across the room. She knew exactly what she was doing.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the whispers and the gasps of the crowd. All I could see was Vanessa’s smile—calm, composed. Her expression, a promise and a warning.
You may be his wife now, but I’m not going anywhere.
The officiant cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the room. Damian shifted beside me, but he didn’t move to address the disruption. He didn’t even look at Vanessa. It was as if he had learned to ignore her presence entirely.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t look away from her, not when she stood there like a snake in the grass, watching, waiting. The satisfaction in her expression made my stomach twist. She wanted me to know that no matter what vows were exchanged today, she would always be there lurking, waiting to strike.
“Amelia?” the officiant tried again, his voice now a distant sound in my thoughts.
I could still feel her eyes on me, even as I forced the words out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I... I do.”
————————————-
The vows were brief, almost transactional. When Damian slipped the ring onto my finger, I couldn’t help but feel like it was a shackle—a symbol of the loveless union I had agreed to. As we turned to face the crowd, applause echoed through the ballroom, but my gaze drifted toward the back of the room. Vanessa stood there, watching. Her eyes locked onto mine.
It wasn’t until much later in the evening that I slipped away from the ballroom and found a quiet corner in the garden that I allowed myself to breathe, away from the noise and the stares of strangers.
The wedding had been a blur. A procession of strangers, flashing cameras and the empty promise of a future I didn't want. The reception was no better. Damian was whisked away into conversations with his business associates, leaving me to fend for myself. I had floated through the crowd, receiving empty congratulations from strangers who didn't care about me, only my new last name.
My stomach churned, a wave of nausea sweeping over me as I leaned against the stone railing, closing my eyes to steady myself. It had to be nerves—stress from the wedding, from Vanessa, from the cold realization of what my life had become.
Taking a deep breath, I brushed the feeling aside. But the nausea lingered, curling in my stomach like a dark whisper I couldn’t ignore.
————————————————
Lightheadedness became a strange, unwelcome companion, lurking just beneath the surface each morning as I adjusted to life in the Sinclair mansion. I also seemed to get used to the overwhelming feeling of displacement that followed me like a shadow through the marble halls.
Damian was often absent, and when he was home, He would walk past me with a brief nod, his eyes cold and disinterested, and every encounter left me feeling smaller, like I was shrinking in his shadow.
The nausea didn’t go away. It grew worse each morning, an unsettling presence I couldn’t shake. Finally, I decided to visit the doctor, hoping that a straightforward explanation might calm the nerves gnawing at me.
As I sat in the sterile white room, the soft hum of machines in the background, I clutched my hands in my lap, waiting for the doctor’s return. The minutes ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, pleading to the rumbles in my stomach to settle.
The door clicked open, and I looked up as the doctor stepped inside, her expression calm but professional. She glanced at the file in her hand, then looked back at me, a small smile breaking the tension in her face.
“Amelia, I have your results.”
I forced a smile, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. “It's just the stress right? I mean... this past week has been a lot.”
The doctor hesitated, her gaze steady as she met my eyes. “Well... congratulations, Amelia. You’re pregnant.”
“WHAT?”
- Writer
