I didn't realize I had stopped breathing until Leon's fingers tightened around my wrist.
"Amelia."
His voice cut through the fog in my head—low, steady, devastatingly calm. "Look at me."
I forced myself to raise my eyes from the man kneeling on the marble floor.
My ex-fiancé.
Evan.
He was clutching his bleeding lip, staring up at Leon like he'd seen a ghost, not a man who had punched him with surgical precision and terrifying restraint.
"Leon…" I whispered.
His grip softened, but only slightly. "Did he follow you here?"
Evan scrambled backward. "I—I just wanted to talk to her—"
Leon's eyes turned glacial. "You wanted to ambush her in my building."
"I wasn't ambushing anyone!" Evan said, voice cracking. "I've been calling for days—Amelia, please, you're my fiancée—"
"Ex-fiancée," Leon corrected, lethal and quiet.
"I just—" Evan's gaze snapped to me, wild. "You're marrying him? Him, Amelia? The man who barely talks? The man everyone is afraid of?"
Leon's jaw flexed, but he didn't look away from me.
He waited.
Let me speak.
Let me choose.
A choice Evan never gave me.
"Yes," I said. "I'm married to him."
Evan flinched like I had pierced him clean through.
"But—Amelia, we were supposed to—your dress, our plans, your sister said—"
"My sister," I echoed, heat flooding my chest, "was wearing my ring when you kissed her in that hotel."
Evan froze.
Leon's fingers slid from my wrist to my waist—slowly, deliberately—an anchor in the chaos.
"You lied," I said, voice sharper. "About everything."
"I—I made a mistake," Evan said hoarsely. "I panicked, okay? I thought—your sister convinced me—she said you weren't ready for marriage—she said you had doubts—"
A dry, humorless laugh ripped out of me.
"Oh, so she seduced you for my own good?"
"It wasn't like that!" he shouted.
Leon stepped forward, placing his body between us.
The move was subtle, protective—not possessive.
But it still sent a shiver down my spine.
"Get out," Leon ordered.
Evan trembled. "Let me talk to her alone—"
"You had five years," Leon replied. "You are not owed a second more."
Evan turned desperate eyes on me.
"Amelia, please. I swear I can fix this. I swear—"
"You can't," I said softly. "And I don't want you to."
Evan's face crumpled.
Leon's hand slid up my back in a soothing motion he probably didn't even realize he made.
But my body noticed.
My heart noticed.
"You should go," I said.
Evan searched my face, one last plea caught in his throat.
Then he looked at Leon.
"You'll regret this," he said in a low, venomous whisper.
Leon moved so fast I barely saw it—a grab to the collar, a twist, a shove that pinned Evan against the wall with one arm.
"Threaten her again," Leon murmured, voice soft and horrifyingly calm, "and I'll make sure you regret breathing."
"Leon," I breathed, touching his arm lightly. "Enough."
And shockingly—
he let go.
Just like that.
Instantly.
Because I asked.
Evan stumbled away, glaring at us both before fleeing down the corridor like a man who had awakened something ancient and dangerous.
The moment he disappeared, silence crashed down around us.
A thick, electric silence.
Leon turned to me.
"You shouldn't have opened the door."
"I thought it was room service."
"I'm putting additional security on this floor."
"Leon—"
"And the elevator requires a facial ID from now on."
"Leon—"
"And I'll be moving the private guards to—"
"Leon!" I snapped.
He stopped.
His eyes—dark, stormy, unreadable—finally lifted to mine.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
I looked down.
Damn.
I was.
He took a step closer.
Then another.
Until his chest was a breath from mine.
"I don't like seeing you scared," he said.
"I wasn't scared."
He tilted his head slightly. "You're shaking."
"That's adrenaline."
"That's fear."
"That's frustrating."
"At me?"
"At everything."
He studied my face as if he could read every unspoken word.
Then he said something I never expected:
"You don't have to hold everything together when I'm here."
I blinked up at him. "I'm not falling apart."
"You don't have to be strong right now."
"I'm not weak."
"I never said you were." His voice softened. "But you're not alone either."
The words hit me deeper than they should have.
I turned away before he saw too much. "I need a minute to breathe."
He didn't stop me.
He didn't follow.
But his voice reached me before I stepped into the bedroom.
"Amelia."
I paused.
He stood there—hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes searching my face with something dangerously close to concern.
"If he comes near you again," Leon said quietly, "I won't use my hands next time."
My breath caught.
"And what will you use?" I whispered.
His answer was soft.
Lethal.
Final.
"Everything I have."
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to remember how breathing worked.
Evan.
His face.
His desperation.
His words.
My chest squeezed.
Hard.
He followed me to Leon's penthouse.
I didn't want to think about what that meant.
I didn't want to think about how far he'd go now that spite was the only thing driving him.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I should have ignored it.
But something—instinct or dread—made me answer.
"Hello?"
Static.
Then a soft, feminine breath.
"Amelia?"
I froze.
No.
No, she wouldn't—
"Is this… your sister?" I whispered.
"Of course it's me," she said, her voice dripping with smug sweetness. "Who else would bother calling?"
My stomach twisted.
"What do you want, Claire?"
She laughed.
A low, taunting sound.
"Oh, nothing much. Only to congratulate you."
"On what?"
"Becoming the Hale family's newest pet."
I clenched my jaw.
"Goodbye, Claire."
"Wait—unless you don't want to hear what Evan told me."
My heart stuttered.
"What did he tell you?"
"That you stole him from me."
I felt the world tilt.
"He said you chased him," Claire continued, sounding delighted, "and that you seduced him even though you knew we liked each other."
Blood roared in my ears.
"That's a lie," I hissed.
"Oh, I know," Claire said, sounding bored. "But lies are more fun, don't you think?"
I gripped the phone harder.
"What's your point?"
"My point," she purred, "is that you can't keep Leon forever. Sooner or later, he'll see you the way everyone else does."
"And how is that?" I whispered.
"Replaceable."
Something inside me cracked—quietly, painfully.
Claire chuckled. "Sweet dreams, sis."
The line went dead.
I stared at the wall, trembling.
Not from fear this time.
From something darker.
Claire wanted me broken.
Evan wanted me back—or ruined.
And Leon…
Leon wanted something I still didn't understand.
But right then…
I knew one thing:
I wasn't replaceable.
Not to him.
Not anymore.
I walked back out to the living room.
Leon was sitting on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, head lowered, suit jacket discarded beside him. He looked… exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like the weight of the entire world was pressing into his shoulders.
"Leon," I said softly.
His head lifted instantly.
He scanned my face—every detail—almost like he was checking for damage.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
I swallowed. "Not exactly."
He stood.
Slow.
Controlled.
Then he walked to me.
Not quickly.
Not with urgency.
With purpose.
When he stopped in front of me, he reached out slowly—as if giving me time to move away.
I didn't.
His fingertips brushed my jaw.
Barely.
A whisper of a touch.
But it made my pulse thunder.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
I hesitated.
Then the truth spilled out.
"My sister called."
His hand tensed. "What did she say?"
"That I'm replaceable."
Leon's expression darkened instantly—something sharp and violent flickering behind his eyes.
"You are not replaceable," he said, voice low.
"She said you'd realize it eventually."
"I realized something else."
I blinked. "What?"
His thumb brushed my cheek.
"That marrying you," he said softly, "is the first decision I've made that doesn't feel like a transaction."
My breath caught.
He didn't look away.
"And if anyone—including your sister, your ex, or the entire world—tries to convince you otherwise…"
His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, drawing me closer.
"…I will correct them."
I swallowed. "Leon…"
"Yes?"
"I'm scared."
He leaned down slightly, forehead brushing mine.
"Good," he murmured. "Fear keeps you alive."
"And you?" I whispered. "Are you scared?"
His breath hitched.
Then, for the first time, I heard Leon Hale speak without armor.
"Yes," he said. "Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
My heart exploded.
But the moment shattered—sharply, violently—when a loud, metallic crash echoed from the hallway.
Leon snapped around instantly, pulling me behind him as footsteps pounded closer.
Someone was inside the penthouse.
And Leon's voice dropped to a lethal whisper:
"Stay behind me, Amelia."