Brandon's POV
I wanted to call my sister. She was always good with advice, and her experience with our dad meant she could see things through the eyes of someone who had been hurt. I stared at my phone, unsure if I had the courage. Finally, I pressed call.
"Bran? Everything okay?" Julie's voice was calm but sharp, the kind that made him straighten up without her even being there.
"I… I need advice," I said, hesitating. "But I can't tell you everything."
There was a pause, then a gentle but firm tone. "You can tell me what you can. I'll do my best to help."
I took a deep breath. "It's… someone else's situation too. I don't want to betray her by sharing too much."
"I get that," she said softly. "You're loyal, that's good. But loyalty doesn't mean staying silent when someone needs you — and it doesn't mean handling it all alone."
"I don't even know where to start," I admitted, the tightness in my chest easing slightly just from talking to Julie.
"Start by thinking about what's safe, what matters most, and what you can control," she advised. "Then take one step at a time. You don't have to solve everything at once. You just… act where you can."
I let out a long breath, a quiet relief settling over me. "Okay. I think I can do that."
Her voice softened. "I know you can. And Bran? Don't forget — I'm always here for you."
After I hung up, I sat in the dark for a long moment, letting her words sink in. Act where you can. It was simple to say — but doing it was another story.
I thought about Amelia, about how careful I had to be. If her parents ever found out she knew — even just that she knew what they did — they'd lash out. They weren't just cruel; they were unpredictable. They could punish her for what they'd see as "betrayal," and I'd never forgive myself if I let that happen. Any plan I made had to protect her, first and foremost.
I started small, thinking through my options without exposing her. I made a list in my head: who I could trust, what I could safely check, which actions wouldn't leave a trail back to her. Every detail mattered.
Then I reached out to a friend I trusted, someone completely removed from the situation. I didn't mention Amelia's name. I just explained what needed to be done, framing it in a way that didn't link back to her. It felt like a tightrope walk — one wrong move and the consequences for her could be catastrophic.
Step by step, I began to set things in motion. Gathering information quietly, lining up support, planning contingencies. Each action felt like reclaiming a little power from the fear that had kept me frozen for so long. I had to protect Amelia, yes — but I had to prove myself too.
By the end of the night, the first pieces were in place. I didn't have all the answers, and I knew I would never be able to completely avoid the danger. But I had a direction, a plan, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't just surviving — I was acting.
Amelia's POV
I sat in the quiet of my apartment, the city lights outside casting long shadows across the floor. My mind kept replaying the last few months since I took over the company — the decisions I'd made, the meetings I'd led, the way I'd believed I was in control.
And yet, somehow, I had missed it. The signs that my parents had been siphoning money, the subtle manipulations of contracts, the little hints that they weren't as trustworthy as I'd thought. I had been too trusting, too confident in my own judgment. I had thought my intelligence would protect me, but it hadn't. Not really.
Brandon's face came unbidden into my mind. All the ways he'd been there for me, quietly, steadily, never asking for anything in return. The times he'd guided me through a mess I couldn't see, the moments he'd quietly protected me without making me feel powerless.
And yet… I couldn't shake the doubt. Was there more between us than my desperate need for help? Did he feel the same connection I was starting to feel, or was I just reading too much into my own feelings?
I pressed my hand to my forehead, trying to sort through the tangle of relief, frustration, and something that felt dangerously like longing. He had been my anchor through everything for the past few weeks — but could I really trust that anchor wasn't just there because I needed it?
The room felt colder, emptier, and I realised I was waiting. Waiting for some kind of clarity, some sign that the bond between us was more than circumstance. But right now, all I had were questions — and the uneasy knowledge that the threats around me were far from over.
*****
I arrived at the coffee shop a few minutes early, letting the noise and warmth wash over me. Brandon was already there, laptop open, looking far too calm. My chest tightened as I approached.
"Thanks for meeting me," he said, not looking up. "I know you're sceptical. I don't blame you."
I sat down stiffly. "Sceptical? That's putting it lightly."
He gave a faint smile. "I understand. Just… take a look at this." He angled the laptop toward me. Rows of financial records, transactions, and notes flickered across the screen. "See this? Patterns that don't make sense. I can see how they manipulated things."
I swallowed hard, my instincts screaming to distrust him. "And what do you get out of this, Brandon? What's your angle?"
He looked up, meeting my eyes. "I'm not after anything. I just want to help you."
I laughed bitterly, a sound that surprised even me. "Help me? Or just find a new project? Once this is done, you'll move on to the next damsel in distress."
He flinched slightly but stayed composed. "I won't. I promise. I'm here for you. I'm not here just to satisfy some… curiosity, and I'm not going anywhere."
I shook my head, letting the scepticism simmer.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust someone. But right now, I couldn't. Not him, not anyone.