Chapter 1 Drunken Marriage

Amanda's POV

I sat there, my eyes glued to the screen, the video playing out like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. Madison, my sister, and Nathan, my fiancé, their bodies entwined in a display of intimacy that made my stomach churn. The laughter, the soft whispers, the explicit touches - every detail was a dagger to my heart. And the worst part? They had planned this, filmed it, just to destroy me.

What could have driven them to do this? I thought, my mind racing. Madison, always the one to vie for attention, always trying to outshine me. And Nathan, the man I thought I knew better than anyone. It was like a cruel joke, a nightmare from which I couldn't escape.

The sound of the engine outside pulled me from my thoughts. Nathan's car was pulling into the driveway. Madison's look confirmed my suspicions - they were here to deliver the final blow.

As Nathan stepped out, his confident stride and those ice-blue eyes that once held warmth now seemed cold and calculating. He moved with an air of self-assurance that made my stomach churn. He's different now, I thought, there's a darkness in him I never saw before.

"We both know what's up," he said, his voice smooth and practiced, as if we were discussing a business deal rather than the end of our relationship.

"You're here to dump me?" I cut in, my words laced with bitterness.

His composure crumbled for a moment, his eyes flashing with something I couldn't quite place. Is that guilt? Fear? I thought, trying to read his face. But then he quickly regained his calm, his mask slipping back into place.

"Amanda, you get how it works with people like us..." he said, his voice now carrying a hint of menace.

My heart pounded in my chest as I listened to his words. This can't be real. He can't be serious. But the look in his eyes told me otherwise.

His words cut deeper than any knife. How could he? I thought, my mind reeling. Three years of memories, of dreams, of love, all shattered in an instant.

The sound of Dad's voice brought me back to the present. "I need Amanda alone," he said, his tone authoritative.

Nathan left in a hurry, and Elizabeth drifted in behind Dad, her worried face a mask of concern. But I could see through her. She's in on this too, I thought bitterly.

Just talked to Harold Wilson, Dad said, sitting across from me. My stomach sank at the mention of his name. Harold Wilson? What does he have to do with this?

"He's pushing fifty," I snapped, my voice trembling with rage.

"He has money," Elizabeth chimed in, her tone soft but insistent, and I felt my nails dig into my palms as I fought to keep my composure.

"You're joking," I said, my voice rising, my anger bubbling to the surface.

Richard's hand cracked across my face, the sting shocking in its intensity. He's always been a bastard, I thought, my vision blurring as the second hit landed, knocking me back.

"You ungrateful—" His voice was low, dangerous, and I felt my heart race as I realized just how much I was at his mercy.

Later, at the bar, I drowned my rage in martini after martini, the alcohol burning a path through my veins as I tried to drown out the pain. This can't be my life. The thought spiraled through my mind, each twist more vicious than the last.

"You're late," I said to the man who slid onto the stool next to me, my words slurred as I tried to focus on him.

His eyebrows jumped, but he didn't respond, and I felt a smirk tug at the corners of my lips as I realized he thought I was joking.

"Maybe I just wanted a drink," he said, his tone easy, and I felt a thrill of rebellion as I leaned in closer.

"Why else would you be here alone?" I teased, my words dripping with mockery as I ordered another drink.

I slid off the stool, my legs wobbly beneath me, and I felt his hand catch me before I hit the floor. His grip was firm, steady, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked up into his eyes.

"Let's go have some fun tonight," I slurred, my words dripping with defiance as I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.

For a moment, something flashed in his eyes—curiosity, amusement, something dark and dangerous that made my heart race. He's dangerous, I thought, but the realization only fueled my rebellion as I pulled him closer, defiance burning in my eyes.

The night was a blur of lights and laughter, of daring moves and whispered words. I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years, but at the same time, I felt like a shadow of myself, a fragment of the woman I once was.

As we danced, I felt his hand on my waist, his breath on my neck. This is wrong, I thought, but the words felt hollow, like an echo in a hollow space.

"Let's get out of here," he murmured, his voice low and husky, and I felt a thrill of excitement as I nodded.

The night stretched on, each moment a mix of exhilaration and dread. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, one wrong step away from disaster. But at the same time, I felt a sense of freedom, of release, that I hadn't felt in a long time.

As we lay in the hotel room, the room spinning around me, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. This is it, I thought, my heart pounding in my chest. This is the moment I take back control.

The world had been cruel to me, had taken everything I held dear and thrown it in my face. But tonight, I wasn't the victim. Tonight, I was the predator.