97%1
Chapter 12
It was a quiet afternoon. The kind where power hums through the marble floors, and the skyline bows to you through floor–to–ceiling windows. My office was spotless. My wine was aged. My mood? Dangerous.
I’d just finished signing off on a multi–million dollar Italian venture under Rodrigo Corp. when my assistant buzzed in with a strange tone in her voice.
“Miss Rodrigo… there’s a man at the rooftop helipad. Says he has a meeting with the CEO.”
“Name?”
“Favio Cunningham.”
I smiled slow. Of course. Of course he’d walk straight into the lion’s den, thinking it was a boardroom.
“Send him up,” I said, crossing one leg over the other as I poured myself a fresh glass of
wine. “Let’s entertain him.”
Three minutes later, the doors opened. And there he was. Expensive suit, ego still intact, but his face–his face–when he saw me sitting behind the Rodrigo Corp CEO desk? Priceless. Mouth slightly parted. Eyes darting to the company logo on the wall, then back
to me.
“You?” he croaked. “You’re Rodrigo?”
I leaned back, glass in hand, legs crossed, like I’d been waiting years for this exact
moment.
“Correction,” I said sweetly, “Miss Rodrigo. Heiress, partner, and official gatekeeper of little business pitch today.”
“But… but you’re Amelia Winslock.”
your
I gave a slow nod. “Adopted daughter of the Winslock legacy, yes. I was kidnapped when I’m a baby. But my blood?” I tapped my chest. “Rodrigo. Full–blooded. Surprise.”
He looked completely thrown. Like someone had kicked the ground out from under him. “So all this time… all this… you were one of them? This is your empire?”
I swirled my wine. “Took you long enough to see me for what I really am.”
He stepped forward, jaw tightening. “We need to talk.”
“No,” I said, standing up slowly. “You need to leave.”
“Amelia-”
I perched on the edge of my desk, tilting my head like I was looking at a confused child. “What is it you think you’re gonna say, Favio? That the past doesn’t affect business? That I should be the ‘bigger person‘? Forgive, forget, sit at the same table like nothing happened?”
“I didn’t come here for war. I came to make peace,” he snapped. “We had something once- something real. Don’t let that ruin-”
“Ruin what?” I cut in. “A potential merger? A business deal? A new cover–up?”
Im Not Yours Anymore
1/3 137%
Tue, 24
I laughed once–sharp and clean. “No, darling. I didn’t become someone new. I just took the mask off. This is who I was before you tried to break me.”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to be angry or stunned. His eyes searched mine, desperate, clinging to something that didn’t exist anymore.
“You think I wanted to hurt you?” he whispered.
I sipped my wine. “I don’t care what you wanted. I care what you did.”
He stepped closer, voice lower now. “I never stopped loving you.”
I actually laughed. Out loud. Sharp and rich. “You tell me that, too, while you killed our baby? While you stood at the top of those stairs and let me fall?”
His face paled. I stood again, slowly this time, my heels clicking as I walked to him–not afraid. Not shaken. Just a woman with power in her blood and revenge in her bones.
“You’re not scared of what you said?” I asked quietly. “Not even a little haunted?”
He didn’t answer. Just clenched his jaw and slammed his fist on my desk. The sound
echoed.
I didn’t flinch.
“Get out of my building,” I said softly. “Next time you want to pitch a deal… send your assistant. At least they won’t be stupid enough to underestimate me.”
And as he walked out, defeated, I smiled to myself.
Checkmate.
The slow clap came from the glass doors behind me, echoing through the office like a sarcastic drumroll. I turned around and saw Adrian leaning against the doorframe in his designer suit, all smug and smirky like he hadn’t just scared the hell out of me mid–victory lap.
“Well damn,” he said, clapping a few more times. “Father’s gonna be so proud of you. Him. and Mom are still somewhere off the Amalfi coast, pretending they’re twenty–five on their fifth honeymoon. Meanwhile, you’re here running the empire like it’s Tuesday brunch.”
I laughed and put my wine glass down. “What are you doing here, Dr. Glamour? Shouldn’t you be wrist–deep in someone’s heart or stitching up a billionaire’s face in Monaco?” He rolled his eyes. “You forget I’m a CEO too. Doctoring was just my cute little second career. The business world is where I actually flex.”
I smirked. “So what, you came all the way here just to praise me and flex a bit?”
“Not quite.” He pulled something out from his coat pocket and handed it to me. Thick, gold–trimmed, obnoxiously overdone. “Your invitation.”
I blinked. “To what?”
He grinned. “The wedding of the century. Favio and Caroline, on some overpriced private island. Tomorrow.”
I took it and let my eyes glide over the details. “How delightful,” I purred. “I cannot wait to
attend this royal circus and witness every fragile, overpriced second.”
Private Island Resort – Arrival Day
The chopper sliced through the clouds like a blade. The resort was glittering below us- white sands, crystal waters, and enough wealth poured into every square meter to make the Vatican blush.
I was supposed to come with Adrian. But of course, last minute drama–his girlfriend had some emergency, and instead, he sent someone else.
Luther.
And holy hell.
The man stepped onto the chopper like a Bond villain with a better jawline. Tall, broad, carved from some ancient Roman fantasy, Stormy eyes, tailored black suit, and the kind of calm confidence that made other powerful men feel nervous. He barely said a word on the ride, just sat next to me like a living security vault.
When we landed, he helped me off the chopper like a gentleman, hand steady, warm.
“I know you don’t need protection,” he said with a slow smile. “But your brother asked me to keep an eye on you,”
smirked. “Adrian sent a Greek god to babysit me? Generous.”
We were walking toward the suite when the air shifted. Like heat cutting across cold water.
I looked up.
Favio.
Standing at the balcony of the main villa, eyes locked on me. And more importantly–on Luther. His face twisted, Sour. Tight–jawed. Bitter rage barely dressed up in politeness.
12:39 Tue, 24 Jun M.
