Bound by Fate

Chapter 1: A Life of Servitude Amelia Quinn learned early in life that silence was safer than questions. In the Quinn household, silence meant peace. Silence meant fewer problems. Silence meant survival. At twenty-two, she had perfected it. The morning always began the same way. Before the sun rose, before the house fully woke, Amelia was already moving through the small, cramped kitchen. The smell of cheap detergent lingered on her hands from the laundry she had washed the night before. Her back ached from sleeping on an old mattress that had lost its shape years ago. But she didn’t complain. She never did. Because in this house, complaints were invitations for punishment. “Amelia!” Her aunt’s voice cut through the early morning stillness. Sharp. Demanding. Amelia quickly wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, Aunt Eleanor,” she answered, stepping into the hallway. Eleanor Quinn stood there already dressed, perfectly put together as if she hadn’t just woken up in a house that Amelia had cleaned from top to bottom the night before. “The kitchen is not ready,” she said immediately, eyes scanning Amelia like she was inspecting something defective. “I’m still finishing breakfast,” Amelia replied softly. Eleanor sighed loudly as if Amelia had personally offended her existence. “You should wake up earlier.” Amelia said nothing. She had woken up at 4:30 a.m. But that detail didn’t matter here. Nothing she did ever seemed to matter. Down the hallway, footsteps approached. Sarah appeared first, scrolling on her phone. Behind her came Jason, yawning. Finally, Robert Quinn entered the room, already seated at the table like he was the head of a home he barely contributed to. Amelia placed breakfast on the table carefully. Eggs. Bread. Tea. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Just enough to avoid complaints. “Why is the bread slightly burnt?” Sarah asked immediately. Amelia paused. “It’s not burnt.” “It is,” Sarah insisted, smirking slightly. Eleanor didn’t correct her. Instead, she looked at Amelia. “You need to pay more attention.” Amelia lowered her eyes. “Yes, Aunt.” She stayed standing while they ate. It was unspoken. Servants stood. Family sat. Even though she had no memory of agreeing to that role. She simply… became it. Years ago, it hadn’t been like this. She remembered laughter. Warmth. Her parents calling her name gently. Then came the accident. After that, everything changed. Her aunt said they were “helping her.” But help slowly turned into chores. Chores turned into responsibility. Responsibility turned into obligation. And obligation turned into servitude. Amelia didn’t even notice when she stopped being treated like a daughter of the house. She was just… useful. By midday, the house was already loud with demands. “Clean my room.” “I need my clothes ironed.” “Where is my charger?” “Why is this not done yet?” Amelia moved from task to task without pause. Her hands never rested. Her mind never slowed. The only thing she allowed herself was endurance. Inside her small room—barely larger than a storage space—she finally paused for a moment. She pulled out a worn notebook from beneath her mattress. Carefully. Secretly. This was hers. Not theirs. She opened it slowly. Inside were words. Dreams she never said out loud. Plans she didn’t have the courage to act on yet. Ideas of freedom. A life outside this house. A life where she was not just useful—but valued. She traced one line with her fingers. One day, I will live for myself. Her breath trembled slightly. Not because she doubted it. But because she feared how far that “one day” still was. A knock interrupted her thoughts. The door opened immediately. Sarah walked in without permission. “What are you doing?” Amelia quickly closed the notebook. “Nothing.” Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You always say that.” Amelia stood slowly. “What do you want?” Sarah smiled. Not kindly. “I want you to come help me with my dress.” Amelia sighed softly. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” The air shifted instantly. Sarah’s smile disappeared. Eleanor’s voice echoed from the hallway before she even arrived. “Amelia.” One word. A warning. Amelia lowered her gaze again. “Okay.” Because in this house, resistance was expensive. And she couldn’t afford anything. Not even dignity. That night, after everyone slept, Amelia sat by her small window. The city outside was quiet. Peaceful. A world she could see but not reach. She hugged her knees slightly. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine something different. A place where she didn’t wake up anxious. A place where she wasn’t spoken to like a burden. A place where she belonged. Then she closed her eyes. And quietly whispered to herself: “One day.” But she didn’t know yet— that “one day” was already moving toward her. And it would arrive in the form of a man she had never met. A man named Xavier Knight.