Amara's POV
Trey's phone rang, cutting through the tense air like a sudden reprieve. He muttered something under his breath, glanced at the screen, and strode out of the room without another word, his footsteps fading down the corridor. The moment he disappeared, the tight pressure in my chest finally broke. I turned sharply toward Tessa.
"How could you do this to me?" My voice came out low and unsteady, but sharp enough to hurt. "Why would you lie to me like this? I trusted you, Tessa."
Her face crumpled. Her eyes flicked toward the door, as if she could somehow summon her brother back to protect her. "Amara, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I only wanted to help you. I never thought you still had feelings for my brother."
"Stop." I lifted my hand. The tremble in my fingers betrayed me, but I held her gaze. "You think that's why I don't want this? Because I still have feelings for Trey?" A hollow laugh escaped me. "Come on, Tessa. Your brother still looks at me like I'm a child. Even now. Even after everything I've built."
"You don't see yourself," she murmured. "You're—"
"Don't," I cut in sharply. "Don't try to soften this. Don't dress it up." I swallowed hard, the taste of rain still lingering on my tongue. "I looked in the mirror this morning and saw a woman who fought for every ounce of respect she has. I'm not a child. And yet here I am, being treated like one all over again."
She hesitated, then tried to smile. "You are hot and beautiful," she said quietly.
"That is not the point," I snapped. My voice shook, but I pushed forward anyway, each word steadier than the last.
"And let me be clear. I do not have feelings for Trey. I swear to you, Tessa, I will never fall for someone as arrogant and self-centered as him. I would rather spend my life with someone who has nothing but a good heart than waste a second chasing a billionaire who has none."
Her smile faded, her eyes darkening. "Amara, he's still my brother," she whispered, as if that should soften everything.
"And that still doesn't excuse what you did," I replied quietly, my voice cold. "You handed me over like a bargaining chip."
"I thought—"
"You thought wrong." I drew in a breath, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself. "I should have known better. I should have walked away the moment you couldn't even tell me your cousin's name. I was stupid for signing those papers without meeting the groom first."
She winced, twisting her fingers together. "I didn't think he'd be so harsh."
"You didn't think at all," I said softly, and that hurt her more than shouting would have.
Silence settled between us. Outside, thunder rolled over the hills, rattling the windows. My hands were still trembling, but no longer from fear. It was anger now. And heartbreak. And the unbearable awareness that he was still nearby, only a few rooms away.
Tessa's eyes filled with tears. "I just wanted to open a door for you," she whispered. "I didn't realize it would feel like a trap."
"A door?" I said quietly. "It feels like a cage."
Somewhere down the hall, Trey's voice rose as he finished his call, deep enough to make the chandelier crystals tremble. For a brief, reckless moment, I imagined him walking back in and seeing me like this, shaking with fury and betrayal. Instead of shrinking, I straightened. If I was going to survive this, I would do it standing.
The low murmur of his voice drifted closer, then stopped. A door clicked shut, and his footsteps returned, slow and deliberate against the polished wood. My pulse jumped.
Tessa wiped at her eyes, panic flooding her face. "Amara," she whispered. "Just breathe. Please."
I didn't move. I stood rooted to the marble floor, arms folded tight around my portfolio like armor, my heart pounding against it. I told myself to meet his eyes. To look untouchable.
Trey appeared in the doorway, phone still in his hand, his suit jacket unbuttoned as if he had pulled it open mid-call. Rainlight caught on his cufflinks, flashing silver. His gaze went first to Tessa, then settled on me.
"What's going on?" His voice was calm, but dangerous, like the air before a storm.
Tessa opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her eyes flicked toward me.
"Nothing," I said before she could speak. My voice was steady, a thin layer stretched over molten anger. "We were just clarifying the schedule."
"Clarifying?" Trey echoed. His gaze dropped briefly to the damp hem of my dress, the faint tremor in my hand gripping the portfolio. He noticed everything.
"Yes," I said, lifting my chin. "Clarifying. Because apparently I'm expected to perform miracles on a timeline no one bothered to explain."
Something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance, interest, maybe both. "You're expected to do your job," he said softly. "Which you are legally contracted to do."
My stomach dipped, but I refused to look away. "I'm aware of the contract."
He stepped closer, closing the space between us. His cologne wrapped around me, rain and cedar with something darker beneath it. "Good. Then we understand each other."
Behind him, Tessa shifted. "Trey—"
He raised one hand without looking away from me, silencing her. "I almost canceled the contract when you walked in," he said calmly. "But now I'm curious."
I blinked. "Curious about what?"
"Whether the maid's daughter can actually pull off the wedding of the year," he said quietly. "Or whether she'll crumble like she did in the rose garden."
The words hit hard, but this time I didn't flinch. "Then get out of my way and let me work."
For a moment, something shifted in his eyes. A spark. A flicker of heat he didn't hide fast enough. He tilted his head slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Be careful, Miss Castillo. If you keep talking like that, I might almost start to believe you."
He turned away first, which felt like a small victory, and addressed Tessa over his shoulder. "Get her everything she needs. Floor plans, budgets, staff contacts. No excuses."
Then he left, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
The door closed. Tessa exhaled shakily. "God, Amara. What are you doing?"
I stared at the empty doorway, my hands shaking around my portfolio. "Trying not to drown," I said quietly. "Trying to remember why I signed that contract."
Then I turned on her, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "And for the record, I hate him for it. I hate that he still calls me the maid's daughter, like I don't even deserve a name. Like everything I've fought for means nothing to him."
She winced. "Amara—"
"No." My voice cracked, sharp and raw. "You dragged me back here. You put me under his control. Why would you do that to me?"
Her eyes softened, guilt flashing across her face. "Because I wanted you to help him," she said finally. "I don't like the bride. She's wrong for him. She's all polish and performance. She doesn't even hide that she wants his money. Everything about her is curated. She doesn't love him. And since she came into his life, he's changed. He's colder. Harder."
I stared at her. "So you brought me here because you think I can fix that?"
She nodded, hands clenched. "You were the only one who ever really saw him when we were kids. And I'm scared, Amara. Scared that if this wedding happens, the brother I grew up with will be gone."
"You wanted me to help your brother?" I laughed, sharp and broken. "You think a wedding coordinator can save a CEO from a marriage he chose?"
"You don't see yourself," she insisted. "Your talent. Your presence. The way you affect people—"
"Stop." I shook my head. "Don't you see how he looks at me? Like I don't belong. Like I'm still hiding under the servants' staircase."
"That's not disgust," she whispered. "It's fear. He's always liked you. He just doesn't know how to show it."
The words hung between us, electric. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
"I thought if anyone could reach him, it would be you," she said softly.
I tightened my grip on the portfolio. "You made a terrible mistake," I whispered. But beneath the anger, something dangerous stirred.
Panic clawed at my chest. Heat rushed up my neck. I hated that a fragile spark of hope tried to push through my fury.
"No," I said hoarsely. "I'm calling my lawyer. I'm getting out of this."
"You can't," she said quickly. "The penalty is enormous. And there's a residency clause. You're required to stay at the mansion for the duration of the preparations."
I stared at her. "What?"
"You signed yesterday," she whispered.
The room tilted. I remembered signing without reading, trusting her. My fingers dug into the leather of the portfolio. "I trusted you."
She reached for me. I stepped back. "You didn't give me a job," I said quietly. "You trapped me."
Thunder roared outside. Somewhere down the hall, Trey's voice rose again. I shut my eyes briefly, forcing my breath to steady.