I was settled down in my home office, diligently working when Juliana had texted me to let me know she would be stopping by for a visit.
I had barely registered the message when suddenly, my door swung open with a force that startled me, and in stormed Amanda, her expression radiating anger like a storm cloud ready to burst.
"What did you do to them, huh? You withdrew your funds from the Michaelson group?" she yelled, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury, echoing through the otherwise quiet room.
It was clear she had come prepared for a fight.
"Where's your proof that he's innocent?" I shot back, trying to maintain my composure and hide my own frustration.
"My Dad would never do something like this! Okay? Look here, he was in London the day your father was shot," Amanda countered, thrusting a crumpled piece of paper in my direction as if it were a shield protecting her family honor.
I couldn't help but swallow hard at her desperate plea.
"That evidence can't hold a candle to the information I've collected," I replied coldly, refusing to back down.
"You can't keep doing this to me, Killian. Whatever my Dad did, I promise to see through it, but please… my family can't go bankrupt," she begged, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Twenty-four hours have passed and this is your so-called proof?" I scoffed. Her plea, rather than appeasing me, only fueled my resolve.
"I'll make your life a living hell," I whispered fiercely, my words hanging ominously in the air.
I had made it my mission to ensure the Michaelsons faced the consequences of their actions.
I had dismantled their company piece by piece, savoring each victory.
At home, I took it upon myself to educate Amanda about the severity of her family's crimes, making it abundantly clear that I wouldn't offer them any leniency.
They had to confront their misdeeds or I'd unleash my wrath on them without hesitation.
As for Vanessa and the rest of their relatives, I had plans to ensure their lives were a never-ending nightmare.
"Why are you using me like this?" Amanda asked, tears pooling in her eyes, making my heart momentarily clench at the sight.
"You have to give me a child. I can't just leave this world without someone to carry on my legacy," I replied with a scoff, turning away from her vulnerable expression.
"Why keep me under house arrest? You're torturing me, Killian," she cried out, her voice filled with anguish that tugged at the edges of my resolve.
"You're my wife, and whatever I say, you must obey. If you don't, the Michaelsons won't have a future left," I stated coldly, my resolve hardening as I walked away, leaving her in a state of despair.
To assert my dominance further, I announced a gala night party, a grand event where I would formally declare myself the successor of the family legacy.
In the lead-up to this event, I was meticulously tracking every move made by my family members, especially the likes of Vanessa and Vivian.
Little did they know that in the shadows, I was planning to expose their treachery and evil schemes.
I was primed to dismantle everything they held dear, making sure their lives became a relentless cycle of misery, all while standing tall as the architect of their undoing.
### AMANDA'S PERSPECTIVE ###
As I made my way down the staircase, the familiar rhythm of my favorite tunes enveloped me, drowning out the world's noise.
With my headphones snug over my ears, I found solace in the melodies; they were my sanctuary during times when my spirits were low.
Music had a way of reaching into my heart and lifting me, bringing a sense of escape from my troubles.
Lately, it felt like Killian was hell-bent on making my life unbearable. Despite having invested countless hours into learning self-defense, I considered myself a strong, resilient woman.
Yet, when it came to Killian, I couldn't help but feel small and defenseless, as if all that strength accumulated over the years evaporated in his presence.
Evenings were the hardest. I slipped into my cozy night shorts and a soft pajama top, ritualistic in their comfort, as I fetched a glass of rich, velvety red wine from the cupboard.
Setting myself at the dining table, I pressed play on Justin Bieber's "GHOST," allowing the poignant lyrics to wash over me.
Every note stirred a familiar ache in my chest; I never wanted anyone to see just how vulnerable I could be, yet the recollection of crying in front of Killian was a wound that refused to heal.
The truth was, I love him. I'd loved him for years, ever since our awkward middle school days filled with stolen glances and half-hearted crushes.
But somehow, he just didn't see it. High school had been a turning point for me, a painful lesson in misplaced trust and embarrassment.
When he lied about having feelings for me only to humiliate me in front of Katherine, the girl who thrived on my misfortune, I'd finally resolved to let him go.
But, of course, feelings are not so easily dismissed.
I was halfway through a sip of my wine when I felt a familiar, albeit unwelcome, hand settle gently on my shoulder.
"Mrs. Drakes," he said, his tone dripping with a dramatic flair that only he could pull off. I didn't flinch.
In fact, I didn't even budge. Instead, I found myself captivated by the striking lines of his face; how could someone be so effortlessly handsome yet so infuriatingly oblivious?
And then, it hit me like a freight train, the crushing realization that he would never be mine.
"What do you want, Killian?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling inside me.
I fought to keep my composure, grappling with the fear that my heart would betray me in this moment of confrontation.
"What do you mean?" he replied, his brows arching in that annoyingly charming way that made my heart flutter even as my mind raged.
"Why can't you just be mine? You've always made it clear how much you dislike me; why?" The words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered, as I felt my heart shatter, piece by agonizing piece.
This truth had been lingering in the shadows for far too long: I was still in love with him, despite the emotional torture he inflicted on me, as if my feelings were mere playthings for his amusement.
But what good was that love now? This marriage was a mistake, and deep down, I knew it would come crashing down around us in no time.
"If you have an axe to grind with my father, then why drag me into this mess? Do you even have a clue about what I've been through?" My voice trembled as tears began to trail down my cheeks, making my heartache feel more tangible.
"Just when I thought I was beginning to understand you, you surprised me with this callousness," I shouted angrily, my frustration bubbling over.
The rift between us felt insurmountable, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of the end.