Chapter Three:Bound Not Broken.

The next evening, Amelia sat in her favorite cafe, her fingers wrapped around a warm cup of coffee. The familiar scent of roasted beans filled the air, but it did little to calm the storm within her. Across the table, Sophia sat with her arms folded tightly, her brows furrowed in frustration.

"You don't have to go, Amelia," Sophia said, breaking the silence. "You can still fight this."

Amelia's eyes remained fixed on the window. The sky had begun to darken, casting shadows over the bustling street. She spotted the sleek black car parked outside, its tinted windows shielding whoever sat inside. James Oliver had arrived.

"I'm not going there to surrender, Sophia," Amelia replied, her voice low but firm. "I'm going to show him that he might have forced me into this marriage, but he will never own me."

Sophia's frown deepened. "Arnold Williams isn't the kind of man who backs down easily."

Amelia's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Neither am I."

The weight of her decision hung heavy between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without another word, Amelia rose from her seat, grabbing her coat from the chair.

"Amelia, please—"

"I have to do this," she cut in, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Sophia's shoulders slumped, defeat flickering in her eyes. "Be careful."

Amelia gave a small nod before heading out.

James Oliver stood by the car, his posture rigid and professional. His sharp suit was impeccable, and his face betrayed nothing.

"Miss Owen," he greeted, opening the door.

Amelia met his gaze, her chin lifted high. "I'm not here because I've given in. I'm here to set things straight."

James's expression remained neutral. "Mr. Williams will be pleased to see you."

Amelia slid into the car without another word, the door clicking shut behind her. The ride was long and silent, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the space. Every mile that passed felt heavier, pressing down on her chest. But she refused to let fear take hold.

When they arrived at the Williams estate, the grandeur of the mansion loomed before her. Golden lights illuminated the sprawling structure, casting a warm glow against the evening sky. The sight was breathtaking—but it did nothing to soften the dread curling in her stomach.

James led her inside, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off marble floors. The air smelled of expensive cologne and burning wood from the grand fireplace. But Amelia barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the man standing by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Arnold Williams.

He turned slowly at the sound of her approach, his dark eyes locking onto hers. There was something cold and unreadable in his gaze—something that sent a chill through her spine.

"You finally came," he murmured, his voice smooth and calm.

Amelia squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm not here to surrender, Arnold. I came to make one thing clear—you might force this marriage on me, but you will never control me."

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Arnold's mouth. He set his glass down on the table, stepping forward with deliberate ease.

"You're mistaken if you think you still have a choice," he said, his voice low. "The deed is done, Amelia. In less than two weeks, you'll be my wife."

Amelia's heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her face stoic. "You can put a ring on my finger, but you'll never own me."

Arnold's smirk widened, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "We'll see about that."

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Why are you doing this, Arnold? What do you even gain from forcing me into this marriage?"

Arnold's gaze never wavered. "Does it matter?"

Amelia's breath caught. His cold indifference sent a wave of anger rushing through her veins.

"It matters to me," she snapped.

Arnold's smirk faded, his face turning dangerously calm. He took another step closer, his presence suffocating.

"You are mine, Amelia. Whether you like it or not. And instead of fighting me, you should be grateful."

"Grateful?" she echoed, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You think I should be grateful for being sold off like property?"

Arnold's eyes darkened, but his voice remained steady. "Would you rather watch your father's company crumble? Watch everything your family built disappear?"

The words struck like a blow to her chest. He knew exactly where to hit—exactly how to twist the knife.

Amelia's throat tightened, but she refused to let him see her weakness. "I'd rather lose everything than become your puppet."

Arnold's smirk returned, slow and taunting. "You may believe that now, but you'll come to realize how foolish that is."

Amelia's pulse quickened. Every word out of his mouth ignited the fire burning in her chest. He was playing a dangerous game—one she refused to lose.

"You might force this marriage, Arnold, but I'll never bow to you," she said, her voice shaking with defiance.

Arnold's gaze flicked over her, as if assessing how far he could push. Then, with a cold smile, he leaned in slightly.

"You have less than two weeks to prepare yourself," he murmured. "Once you're mine, fighting me will be useless."

Amelia's breath caught, the finality in his voice sending a shiver down her spine. She wanted to lash out—to scream that he'd never break her. But deep down, a small, terrifying part of her knew that Arnold Williams never made empty threats.

Without another word, she spun on her heel, marching toward the door.

"James will escort you home," Arnold called after her, his voice calm. "I suggest you start accepting your fate."

Amelia's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Outside, the cool night air filled her lungs, but it did little to ease the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest. James stood by the car, silent as ever.

Amelia barely noticed him as she climbed into the backseat,

her mind racing.

She would marry Arnold Williams.

But she would never let him break her.!