Weeks later,

Weeks passed into a haze of grief, anger and resentment. Amelia barely ate or slept, her once-bright spirit crushed under the weight of betrayal. Her mind is restless and unfocused.

One morning, she woke up with a wave of nausea that left her clutching the bathroom sink. Something was wrong.

After a visit to a doctor, Amelia confirmed her worst nightmare. She was two weeks pregnant. The news left her dumbfounded, her hands trembling violently as she held the test results. She thought back to that night at the bar, a night with a man whose name she didn't know, whose face she can't remember.

As she stepped into the house, clutching the envelope tightly, Valencia, out of nowhere, snatched it away from her hand.

“Care to share what's in the envelope?” She laughed, moving away from Amelia. Opening the envelope she frowned in curiosity, “What's this?” she asked, her eyes scanning the envelope. Her eyes widened, and then a wicked grin spread across her face.

Amelia swallowed the lump in her chest, her heart pounding hard, knowing the extent of Valencia’s wickedness.

“Tsk, tsk, looks like innocent Amelia got herself knocked up.” she teased, grinning at Amelia.

Her loud, mocking laughter drew the attention of Eileen and their father. Amelia tried to grab the envelope, but Valencia held it out of reach.

“What's going on?” Their father asked.

“Dad, did you know, your innocent and perfect daughter is pregnant?” Valencia called out, waving the paper in the air.

“Don't joke expensively, Valencia.” Henry scolded.

“But Dad, I'm not joking. Here, read it yourself.” Valencia said, giving her father the papers.

Henry frowned and collected the paper, Eileen rushed to his side to read along.

“What?” Henry's eyes widened in disbelief and his face red with fury. “You're pregnant, Amelia?”

Amelia swallowed again, her throat dry, she felt the walls closing in as Eileen added salt to the injury. “You've truly disgraced us Amelia. Who is the father? Do you even know him?”

“No! You can't stay under my roof and tarnish my reputation any further. Pack your things and leave this instant. You're no longer welcomed here.”

Amelia's heart sank, but she refused to let them see her turmoil. With her head held high, she went upstairs to pack her belongings.”

“Amelia is really useless and filthy. Pregnant out of wedlock? Who would dare to marry her again? Oh my goodness.” Eileen sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Valencia, please don't be like her, okay.”

“Mom? Don't think about me that way, I'd never be like her. I can't even call her sister again in public.”

As Amelia entered the room and closed the door behind her, everything crashed down on her. Her heart breaking into pieces, she placed her hand on her stomach, tears streaming down her face.

*******

In the heart of the city, towering above the skyline like a modern day fortress was Matteo Lior’s mansion. A masterpiece of glass and steel, it stood against the backdrop of a vivid sunrise. The sprawling estate, with its floor to ceiling windows, and high tech amenities, which screamed of power and affluence.

Matteo stood by the enormous glass window in his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand, despite the early hours. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his breathtaking face displaying no emotion. The early rays of sunlight danced across his features and the tailored shirt that clung tightly to his broad shoulders.

Weeks had gone, yet he couldn't seem to get the girl from that night, out of his mind. He could still remember her scent, the faint mark on the sheets, the ache he hadn't thought he'd feel from her touch. She had stirred something in him – something primal and unsettling.

He hadn't bothered to look for her after that night. Trying not to get himself attached with her, it was a one time thing and it should remain like that, he had thought. But then, her memory kept finding Its way in his head.

Matteo prided himself on his self control, his ability to stay emotionally detached. Yet her teasing smirk, her vulnerability, the way she'd melted into his arms – all of them made him restless.

Hating the thought of someone as miniature as her taking over his mind, he cursed under his breath, setting the glass down on the polished black counter with a sharp cling.

Trying to stop his thoughts from spiraling further, he paused as the sounds of footsteps echoed down the marbled floor hallway. He instinctively turned to find his grandfather, Elias Lior, entering the room with his usual stern demeanor. The old man's presence was as commanding and intimidating as ever, his hair, a mixture of silver and black, neatly combed. His walking stick tapped rhythmically against the floor as he walked.

“Matteo,” Elias began, his tone steady, but laced with seriousness. “Care to tell me what's keeping you up at this ungodly hour? Did a woman catch your attention already?”

Matteo's jaw tightened, “Old man, I'm in no mood for small talks.”

Elias chuckled, though there was no humor In his tone. “When are you ever in the mood? But let's cut to the chase, I'm not here for pleasantries either. Matteo, the board is restless, your reputation is becoming….a problem.”

Matteo frowned, “What Reputation?”

“The one the tabloids speculate you prefer men to women. It's absurd, of course, but the rumors persist and spread wider every day. You've done nothing to defend yourself or stop the news, and honestly, the shareholders are growing concerned. They want growth, a family image, an heir.”

Matteo wasn't surprised with talks like this, but he was fed up hearing them all time and it irks him.

“I don't owe anyone an explanation on how I chose to live my life.” He almost snapped, his tone ice-cold.

Elias leaned heavily on the counter, his expression hardening. “I know you don't. But you've built an empire, Matteo, and empires crumble without legacy. The Lior name needs more than just wealth, it needs continuity. It's time you find a wife and put these rumors to rest.”

“I don't need a wife to prove myself.” He said flatly, grabbing his glass of wine again.

Elias straightened, his gaze unyielding. “You can either take control of this narrative or I will. If your father hadn't gotten married early, would you be here to spout rubbish about not needing a wife? I'm too old to watch you destroy what I've built. The choice is yours.”

With that said, Elias turned and left, his walking stick clicking against the floor with finality.

Matteo stood in silence, his fists clenched. He hated discussions like this, especially with Elias, who was equally stubborn and unyielding as he is.

With a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Asad,” he said when his assistant answered. “I need you to find someone for me. A woman.”

There was a pause on the other end, “No worries, sir. Do you have her name?”

“No.” Matteo admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I want every detail of that woman I spent a night with, at Scarlett Bar.”

“Alright sir, I'll get it immediately.”

He hummed and hung up the call. He paced around the room, his mind unsettled. It was easy right? Find the woman and give her some cash to be his wife, he thought, hating how helpless he felt.

Hours later, Asad returned with an update, “Her name is Amelia Harper,” he began “She’s the daughter of the Harper family, once wealthy but they've recently fallen from grace. She was engaged to Liam Grayson, though it seems things didn't end well.”

Matteo frowned. “Is that all?”

“Uhhm…she recently left the country, there's no trace or update about her again.” Asad, hesitated.

Matteo's frown got deeper, “Gone? Just like that?”

“Find her.” He commanded, his tone low but dangerous.

“But–”

“No buts, Find her.” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument or hesitation.

As Asad left, Matteo returned to the window, his jaw clenched. He had no idea why he cared, but one thing was certain, Amelia Harper had walked into his life by coincidence and stirred it. She wouldn't walk out without consequences.