The letter she had signed that morning still felt heavy in her bag, her name scratched across the envelope like a farewell. Not to her past. But to who she had been. The girl who once dreamed of love.
She was gone now.
The estate stretched before her like something from an old painting. Blackwell Mansion. The name was whispered like legend in the streets of Manhattan's elite. A symbol of generational wealth, honor, and unshakable power. But standing here, Amelia felt none of that.
She only felt the cold.
Her aunt stepped out beside her and smoothed the front of Amelia's dress. "Chin up, darling. This family is giving you the life every girl dreams of."
Amelia didn't answer. If this was a dream, why did it feel like she was sleepwalking into someone else's story?
The butler greeted them with a formal nod. "Miss Fernado. Mr. Blackwell is expecting you. Please follow me."
Inside, the mansion whispered of restraint and old money. The walls were lined with books and curated art.
They were led through double doors into a grand study. Dark wood, tall windows, and at the far end, seated behind a carved desk Richard Blackwell.
Amelia had seen his face on magazine covers. The youngest CEO in the family's history. Rumors said he was sharp, reclusive, and painfully private. Up close, he was all of that and something else.
Composed. Watchful. Controlled.
He stood as they entered, his gaze settling on her, not with desire, not with indifference,but with something unreadable.
"Miss Fernado," he said, extending his hand.
She took it, surprised by the warmth of his grip. He wasn't what she'd expected.
"Please," he motioned to the chairs, "have a seat."
Her aunt, suddenly shy, cleared her throat. "We're grateful for your generosity, Mr. Blackwell. This is an incredible opportunity for Amelia"
He raised a hand gently. "Let's not pretend this is a favor. This marriage is not charity. It's tradition. And if she accepts it ,mutual."
Amelia blinked. "Mutual?"
He looked at her directly. "I know this isn't how you imagined your life unfolding. But this arrangement benefits us both. Our families have worked together for generations. This union honors that legacy."
It sounded rehearsed. But not dishonest.
"And if I say no?"
"Then we part respectfully," he said. "You'll keep what's already been arranged,a gesture of goodwill. But the contract will be void."
Mr Black whispered to the butler "Tell my son I request to see him here now".
As Richard came, Mr Blackwell introduced him to Amelia and her Aunt Veronica.
"Lovely to meet your acquaintance" said Richard.
Miss Veronica Greeted him as well while Amelia was left staring.
Richard looks at her and thinks to himself "Is this how another beautiful girl will be wasted to sacrifice for the sake of family wealth"
"I'm Richard " stretching out his hand towards Amelia. She responds and reciprocates the hand shake "Amelia".
The final contract paper was on the table by the side, once this contract was signed by Amelia herself, there's no going back for her.
Richard offered her the papers and a pen, "My lady you just need to sign this paper".
" I don't think I want to do this,I want to leave" fumbled Amelia in fear.
Amelia's aunt stiffened. That wasn't part of their plan.
Amelia sat quietly. "Why me?"
Richard hesitated. "Because you're different."
That answer wasn't what she expected. Or trusted.
Richard silently asked his father and miss Fernando to excuse them both.
A stack of papers sat before her. Clean. Neat. Signed by his family. Ready for hers.
"No intimacy clause," he said quietly. "If that matters. You'll retain your name, your independence. There are no expectations, Amelia. Only respect."
She studied him. The man didn't look desperate. Or dangerous. Just… careful.
Amelia reached for the pen.
"You'll have your own wing in the mansion," he added. "Privacy. Freedom. And if at any point you feel uncomfortable"
"I'll leave?" she asked.
He didn't answer that. Just looked at her.
She signed.
A whisper of ink across paper. And everything changed.
The butler returned promptly.
"Miss Fernado's room is prepared," he said. "Shall I escort her?"
Richard nodded. "You'll find welcome here, Amelia. And peace, I hope."
Amelia stood, still unsure whether this was a gilded cage or a throne.
As she followed the butler, her eyes briefly met Richard's again.
There was something behind his gaze.
Not coldness. Not evil, Something deeper.
Like he was afraid of something he couldn't name.
The east wing was warm and light, surprisingly charming compared to the formality of the rest of the house. Her bedroom smelled faintly of lavender, and the window looked over the gardens below.
She stepped onto the balcony, breathing in the cool air.
This didn't feel like a prison. And yet, a small ache bloomed in her chest.
She wasn't free either.
Later that evening, there was a gentle knock.
Amelia opened the door to find a young maid, barely older than her, holding a folded set of linens.
The girl had wild curls tucked under her cap and eyes that lit up when she smiled.
"Hi," she said. "I'm Lucia. Assigned to your wing."
Amelia tilted her head. "Assigned?"
Lucia laughed. "Not as creepy as it sounds. I volunteered. You seemed like someone who might need a friend."
Amelia blinked. "Do I seem that miserable?"
"No. Just… new."
Lucia stepped in and dropped the linens on the chair. She took a look around the room, then sat down casually, like they'd known each other for years.
"You don't have to be nervous," she said. "They're not monsters here."
Amelia raised a brow. "No?"
Lucia shook her head. "Weird? Sure. Formal? Absolutely. But cruel? No. Honestly, this family's quieter than most. You're lucky."
"Lucky to be married off to a man I barely know?" Amelia said with a sad smile.
Lucia shrugged. "Could be worse. At least this one's handsome. And he doesn't cheat. That's rare."
Amelia let out a real laugh. Small, but real.
Lucia grinned. "There it is."
A pause.
Then Lucia leaned in. "If you ever need to sneak out and breathe, there's a back staircase near the linen closet. Just don't let Mrs. Whitmore see you. She's got ears like a bat."
"Thanks, Lucia."
"For the breathing or the friendship?"
"Both."
Lucia winked. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."
She slipped out, leaving the room warmer somehow.
That night, Amelia lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
The house didn't feel dangerous.
But it didn't feel safe either.
It felt like a place where truths wore perfume and smiled.
She reached for the envelope in her bag again, tracing her name on the front like it was a goodbye letter to herself.