I’m the contracted bride of the billionaire

The vivid memory of that grisly scene emblazoned in her psyche caused Amelia’s jaw to clench, her teeth grinding subconsciously. Philip gently stroked her hair as the muscles in her slender body coiled tight, bracing for the next immersion into her sordid past.

“After my mom… left…” she began in a carefully measured tone. “My old man stopped trying to keep up even a fraction of the illusion that he gave a damn about me. In his mind, I had served my purpose as his convenient punching bag. With Maggie gone, Donnie was free to disappear for weeks and indulge his worst vices without any accountability.”

Philip absorbed her haunting words in somber silence, his thumb tracing soothing half-moons over the rigid knots in her shoulders.

“Before the sickness fully took you, at least your mom was there to keep some semblance of parental presence,” he murmured. “No matter how flawed or weak. But then you were just… alone.”

Amelia’s laugh was a harsh, jagged bark that sliced through the heavy tension blanketing their bedroom.

“Alone didn’t even begin to cover it. More like abandoned to rot from the inside out. Every day, I’d come home from school to that empty shithole, knowing Donnie wouldn’t slither back for God knows how long. And it’s not like I had any friends or decent influences in my life.”

With a weary sigh, she extracted herself from Philip’s embrace and crossed to the towering windows that overlooked the glittering Philadelphia skyline. The sight of the sleek, ultra-modern skyscrapers testaments to decadence, taste and sophistication formed a stark juxtaposition to the rundown, ramshackle enclave where she had clawed her way to independence as an adolescent.

“Can you picture it?” Amelia spoke up, squinting against the ambient city lights bleeding through the glass. “A scrawny, painfully shy teenager shuffling to and from school with her head down, desperate to avoid the taunts and ridicule from her classmates? Always the outsider too ashamed about her circumstances to let anyone get close?”

She peeled her forehead from the window with a sigh, turning to meet Philip’s pained gaze from across the room.

“I didn’t stand a chance of fitting in,” she confessed, features taut with memories of exclusion and isolation. “On the rare occasions I did let myself get lulled into a false sense of belonging, it never ended well.”

Like a gnarled appendage of darkness creeping from the void, flashes of a particularly distressing recollection took insidious root, choking at Amelia’s throat with each clawing inhale…

Sixteen-year-old Amelia beamed radiantly, triumphantly even, as she sashayed down the dilapidated halls of Southside High, flanked by a posse of girls whose smoothed hair, matte lipstick and ripped denim oozed badass credibility.

For once, the troubled loner wasn’t slinking past the throngs of judging cliques or suffering their whispers of derision. No, heads swiveled wherever she passed, eyes widening with wary intrigue and perhaps even a dash of starstruck jealousy from the same basic bitches who used to heap scorn on the parentless loser.

Now Amelia was somebody to be feared, whether they realized it or not. The company she kept meant never again being shoved into lockers or suffering cruel taunts about her frayed, thrift store garments.

Adelina, Mercedes and the others were hardcore, connected chicks whose families had generational ties with some of the most notorious crews in South Philly. No self-respecting punk would dare talk shit about their entourage unless they wanted a world of hurt descended upon them.

And Amelia practically glowed with the smug satisfaction of having finally proven her worth as more than the pathetic burnout and charity case everyone at this miserable high school had pegged her. By doing what, precisely? That sordid detail was better left unspoken. Just basking in this newfound sense of belonging was enough to make her feel powerful, in control, desired… everything her tragic upbringing had systematically robbed her of.

At last, Amelia had found a surrogate family who accepted her without caveats or condescending pity. Sure, it was a rough, calloused sort of kinship bound by shady allegiances and a fair share of lawless exploits. But she would take the jarring whiplash of camaraderie over the numbing sting of loneliness any day.

Little did teenage Amelia understand, the sense of security and self-worth she derived from rolling with her hardened crew of delinquents would steadily curdle into a deep, internal decay…

Back in the present, Amelia sank onto the plush bed, her posture sagging beneath the weight of recollections she had suppressed for so long. Eyes downcast, she folded her hands between her knees, worrying her bottom lip until a thin trickle of blood oozed forth. Philip said nothing, simply shifting closer so she could soak in his steady, reassuring presence as she saw fit.

After several tense moments spent gathering her scattered thoughts, Amelia let out a shuddering exhalation, her words carrying a defeated exhaustion.

“Those girls were my first true sources of acceptance and belonging after the train wreck of my childhood. In their shitty, rough-edged way, they showed me a vague outline of what it felt like to have unconditional family rallying round you.” She paused, acerbic laughter bubbling up from her raw throat. “Even if that family bond relied on petty crimes, drugs and defending twisted codes of payback at all costs.”

Philip’s jaw tightened as his brilliant mind pieced together the unfortunate implication of her words. But he refrained from passing judgment, sensing Amelia still had more poisonous thorns of truth left to uproot and exorcise.

“Little by little, I got deeper and deeper over my head,” she pressed on, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with him. Shame flooded her cheeks, but Amelia refused to let herself shrink back into old habits of concealment and evasion. Not anymore. Not with the man she had vowed to build an honest, lasting life partnership.

“At first, I just ran errands or watched somebody’s kid while they handled unsavory business. Harmless stuff to begin building up good faith with the rest of the girls. Then they started including me during riskier jobs…”

She swallowed hard, uncomfortable phantoms prickling across her clammy skin.

“Petty break-ins, snatching purses, moving product or packages for the bigger players on the streets. Looking back, it was a slippery slope designed to steadily trap me. But I deluded myself into believing it was all worth it to belong, to feel respected and protected at last. Even by the slimmest margin.”