Back at my flat, I curled into the corner of the sofa, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling that had clung to me since coffee with Kelly. I told myself it was nothing — that she had only wanted to check in. But the doubts whispered on anyway.
When my phone rang, Brandon's name flashed across the screen. He'd promised to check in. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over decline. Against my better judgment, I answered.
"Hey," he said, his voice warm, steady. Too steady. "Just wanted to see how you're doing."
"I'm fine," I replied quickly. "Really, you don't need to keep calling."
There was a pause, then his voice softened. "Amelia, I know you're not fine. Let me help. If your parents set you up, we can prove it. I can go through the records, find the trail they left. It's what I do. You don't have to fight this alone."
The words pricked something sharp inside me. My chest tightened. Why was he pushing this so hard?
"And what do you hope to get out of it?" I asked, my voice low, edged with suspicion before I could stop it.
"What do you mean?"
I swallowed, the bitterness rising. "You keep insisting you want to help, but why? Is it my money? Do you think if you clear my name I'll suddenly owe you? Or I'll fall in love with my saviour?"
The silence on the other end stretched painfully long before he finally spoke. His voice cracked, just a little. "Amelia… I'm not after anything. I care about you. That's it."
His words hung there, aching, but the mistrust wouldn't let go. My pulse hammered as if warning me, louder than reason.
"Stop contacting me, Brandon," I said, forcing the words out before I could falter. "Please. Just… stop."
I heard him inhale sharply, as though I'd knocked the air from his lungs. For a moment, I thought he might argue. Instead, his reply was soft, wounded.
"If that's what you want… I'll back off."
The line clicked dead. I sat staring at my phone, but instead of relief, only a hollow ache spread through me.
Brandon's POV
I lowered the phone from my ear, Amelia's final words still ringing in my head. Stop contacting me.
I sank onto the edge of my bed, rubbing my face with my hands. I'd known she was pulling away, but hearing it out loud — so sharp, so final — hit harder than I expected.
Part of me wanted to call her back, to fight, to tell her again that I wasn't going anywhere. But the tremor in her voice, the suspicion woven through her words… it wasn't just fear. It was mistrust. Mistrust of me.
I clenched my fists, jaw tight. I understood trauma. I understood how it twisted everything you thought you knew about people, made you doubt even the hands reaching out to help. I'd lived with that kind of mistrust all my life under my father's roof. Still, hearing it from her cut deep.
I pushed myself up and paced my small flat, my thoughts spinning. I couldn't force her to trust me. I couldn't make her let me in. But the idea of stepping away — really walking away — felt impossible. I'd seen too much, felt too much. Amelia wasn't just someone I cared about. She was the one person I wanted to protect, even if she couldn't see it.
I sank back into the chair at my desk, staring at the spreadsheets open on my monitor. The numbers blurred in front of me. Work couldn't distract me this time.
If she wants me to back off, I will… for now. But I won't stop watching out for her. Not until she's safe. Even if she never forgives me for it.
My chest ached with a mix of helplessness and determination. For the first time in years, I hated the quiet of my flat. It sounded too much like loneliness.
I sat at my desk, studying the numbers on my screen. Every line of data, every fluctuation in the charts seemed meaningless compared to the knot of worry coiling in my chest. Amelia had pushed me away, and yet… I couldn't let her face this alone. Not after everything.
I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled sharply. She doesn't trust me. She might never trust me again. And yet, the thought of her unraveling, of being crushed by whatever trap her parents had set… I couldn't sit idle.
I opened her company's accounts on my laptop — legally, but carefully. I'd noticed patterns before, others might have missed, little discrepancies in transfers, odd entries that didn't line up. I knew if there was a setup, there would be breadcrumbs.
I hesitated. Was I crossing a line? She had told me to back off. But this wasn't about breaking her boundaries. It was about clearing her name, protecting her from the people who had betrayed her, the people who might have once been her parents' closest allies. She needed proof, even if she didn't want my help.
I leaned back, watching the city lights glint through my window. My gut told me this would take time. Hours of digging, careful tracking, connecting dots that nobody else would notice. And if Amelia ever found out I was doing this behind her back… well, she'd be furious.
But the thought of doing nothing was unbearable. I had to try.
I'll give her space… for now. But I won't let her fight this alone.
Amelia's POV
My phone buzzed, and I hesitated before picking it up.
"Amelia," Brandon's voice was calm, careful. "I've found something. I think you need to see it in person."
I frowned. "Found what?" My tone was sharper than I intended. I wasn't in the mood for surprises.
"Evidence," he said. "Something about the company. You won't get the full picture over the phone."
I bit my lip, feeling the unease creeping back. "Why should I meet you? How do I know this isn't a trap?"
There was a pause. "Because I wouldn't lie to you," he said simply. "Please. Just meet me for twenty minutes. That's it. If you still don't trust me after that, I'll leave you alone."
I hesitated, not knowing what to do. Finally, I nodded, more out of curiosity than trust. "Fine. Where?"
"Coffee shop near your flat. At 2pm."
I agreed silently, feeling the tension coil in my chest. Meeting him felt like stepping into a minefield — I didn't trust him, yet some part of me hoped he could be the one person who would finally help me make sense of the mess my life had become.