Aiden's POV
As I drive through the city in my black Bugatti, the engineâs hum is almost soothing. But my thoughts keep circling back to Amelia. She thinks sheâs being clever, playing the bad girl by using me to get back at Madison. Sheâs acting tough, but I can see the guilt flickering behind her eyesâsheâs not as unaffected as she pretends to be.
She believes this whole game is on her terms, like sheâs the one in control. But sheâs only fooling herself. The truth is, her little plan benefits me more than she realizes. Every move she makes, thinking sheâs keeping me at armâs length, only pulls me closer. Sheâs so focused on her own guilt, she doesnât see how much power sheâs actually giving me.
I shift gears, feeling the power of the car beneath me. Sheâs convinced sheâs using me, but the reality is, Iâm letting her. And the more she tries to keep her distance, the more determined I am to break through.
Sheâs drawing me in, and soon enough, sheâll see that Iâm not just going along with her planâIâm quietly leading it.
I could have easily taken care of Madison myself. In fact, that was my planâto make sure she wouldnât even think about saying a word in front of my girl again. Once I was done with her, Madison wouldnât dare to raise her head, let alone try to humiliate my girl.
But then, my sweetgeart gave me another ideaâone thatâs even better. She doesnât realize how much I enjoy watching her navigate this, trying to stay above water while holding on to me for support. Itâs not that Iâd ever let her struggle too much. Iâd never let her sink; Iâd lift her onto my shoulders to keep her safe if needed.
Still, thereâs something about her fight, the way she clings to me as if Iâm her only lifeline, that I canât help but savor. I love the way she relies on me, the way she battles to stay strong while knowing Iâm always here to catch her if she falls.
I was lost in my thoughts, the road stretching ahead like an endless path leading me deeper into my plans, when the sharp ring of my phone pulled me back to reality. Slightly annoyed, I picked it up without checking the caller ID. It was Jason.
"Where's Rose?" he demanded, his tone a mix of impatience and frustration.
I frowned, momentarily thrown off. "Sheâs at the university. Why?"
"She isnât picking up my calls," he said, irritation lacing his voice.
I wasnât amused. Jason could be overly dramatic sometimes. "So?"
He let out a frustrated sigh. "Never mind. Iâll just head to the university and deal with her personally."
"Deal with my sister with some fragility, alright?" I warned, my tone half-serious. "I know youâre reckless, but you can try being careful for her."
Jason chuckled, a sound that held more determination than humor. "Donât worry, Aiden. I know exactly how to deal with my fiancée, soon-to-be wife."
With that, he hung up, leaving me staring at the phone for a moment. Jason was always intense when it came to Rose. Protective, determinedâalmost like he had something to prove. But I trusted him. He cared about Rose, and that was what mattered most.
Shaking off the lingering irritation, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and refocused on the drive. There were more important things to consider right nowâlike how to make sure Ameliaâs plan didnât just backfire on Madison, but also brought her closer to me.
I steered my Bugatti through the towering gates of the estate, the metal bars sliding open silently as the guards gave me a nod. The expansive driveway, lined with perfectly manicured hedges, led straight to the grand entrance of the mansion. Everything about this place exuded luxuryâfrom the sprawling lawns to the centerpiece fountain in the circular drive.
As I brought the car to a halt, a guard approached with a crisp posture. He opened the door for me without a word, and I casually handed over the keys.
âPark it out back,â I instructed.
The guard nodded, taking the car to the private garage. I turned and headed to the entrance, where the massive double doors opened as I approached. The foyer was as opulent as ever, with marble floors reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers above.
My footsteps echoed faintly in the vast hall until I saw my mother standing at the base of the grand staircase. Petite and warm, she moved toward me with open arms, her eyes shining with affection.
âAiden, darling!â she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug before I could object.
âMom, come on,â I muttered, though I couldnât help but smile. âI was away for a few hours.â
She laughed softly, holding on a moment longer. âToo many minutes, too many seconds,â she said fondly.
I couldnât suppress a smile as I gently pulled back. âYouâre making it too poetic,â I replied, shaking my head.
âAnd you wouldnât have it any other way,â she teased, giving me a light tap on the cheek. âNow, go change. Dinner wonât be long.â
I nodded and ascended the grand staircase, passing through the familiar surroundings of my childhood home. The hallway, lined with ancestral portraits and opulent decor, barely registered as I made my way to my room.
My room was just as Iâd left itâspacious and modern, with sleek furnishings and large windows overlooking the estateâs gardens. I shrugged off my jacket, tossed it onto a chair, and began unbuttoning my shirt as I moved toward the closet.
As I started changing, a soft knock came at the door. I glanced over to see one of the housemaids entering, carrying a tray with a glass of freshly squeezed juice, condensation gathering on the outside.
âYour mother sent this, sir,â the maid said, placing the tray on the bedside table.
I nodded, reaching for the glass. The juice was cool and refreshing, cutting through the warmth of the day. I drank it quickly, savoring the brief respite, before setting the empty glass back on the tray.
The maid departed quietly, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I finished changing into more comfortable clothes and sat on the edge of my bed, gazing out at the gardens. It had been a long day, and the evening ahead promised more to come.
For now, though, I allowed myself a brief moment of calm.
After a quick showerâsomething I always need to do as soon as I get homeâI lie down on my bed, taking deep breaths to unwind. I grab my phone and start scrolling through social media to kill some time.
But then I see it. A post that makes me grip my phone so tightly, Iâm afraid I might break it. My jaw clenches as my relaxation turns into frustration. The photo is posted by Amelia with someone I canât stand, Akira, posing like old friends or something more.
The calm I felt just moments ago is gone, replaced by a surge of anger. I want to smash my phone, but I force myself to stay calm. Instead, I focus on channeling my fury. I know exactly whoâs going to pay for this.
"That bastard."
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Imagine having thousands of reads on your story but not even 50 followers, horrible, isn't it?