Chapter Sixteen: The Past Unveiled
The morning broke with a silence that felt deceptive, like the calm before a hurricane. Amara had barely slept, her mind circling around Ethan's haunted eyes and the weight of secrets pressing in from all sides. She thought she'd have at least a day before the headlines worsened.
She was wrong.
When she reached the kitchen, Ethan was already there, phone in hand, his face pale. The television above the marble counter blared with breaking news.
"Ethan Knight's Hidden Tragedy Revealed: Fiancée's Death in Fire Scandal."
Amara froze. The reporter's voice was sharp, merciless. "Years ago, Ethan Knight was engaged to rising actress Celeste Warren. Their love story ended in heartbreak when a fire destroyed her home. Sources say Ethan has refused to speak about it to this day. But newly surfaced documents suggest negligence and unanswered questions about what really happened that night."
Photos flashed across the screen—Ethan younger, smiling with a stunning brunette. Then flames, smoke, police tape. Finally, a grainy shot of Ethan outside a hospital, his face streaked with soot and anguish.
Amara's chest constricted. She turned slowly to Ethan, who stood frozen, his knuckles white around his phone.
"They weren't supposed to have that," he said hoarsely, almost to himself. "That night was mine. Mine and hers."
Amara stepped closer, careful, as if he might shatter. "Ethan…"
His eyes snapped to hers, blazing with a mix of fury and grief. "This is why I built walls. This is why I don't let anyone in. Because when I do, the world rips them apart."
She wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, that she wasn't afraid—but the words caught in her throat. Because part of her was afraid. Not of him, but of what being tied to him meant. This wasn't just a contract anymore. This was blood, fire, grief—the kind of pain no business arrangement could survive.
By the afternoon, paparazzi had swarmed the gates of the villa. They shouted cruel questions:
"Ethan, did you abandon her?"
"Amara, how does it feel knowing you're just the replacement?"
"Do you think he'll lose everything once the full story comes out?"
Amara stood at the window, watching the chaos. Her hands trembled, but when she glanced at Ethan, she saw something different. He wasn't shaken by their cruelty. He was consumed by his own demons.
That night, Miranda arrived with a grim face. "Damage control won't work this time. The narrative is too strong. The only thing that can save you is the truth. You need to face it."
Ethan laughed bitterly. "The truth? The truth won't save me—it'll destroy me."
Miranda's lips pressed thin, but she didn't argue. She left soon after, leaving silence in her wake.
Amara found Ethan later in his study, staring at a faded photograph—him and Celeste, their smiles carefree and untouchable. He didn't look up when she entered.
"I loved her," he said quietly. "And I lost her in a way no man should ever lose someone. But what they don't know—what I can't tell them—is that it was my fault."
The words sliced through the air, heavy with guilt.
Amara's breath caught. "Ethan…"
His gaze finally lifted to hers, and she saw the raw torment behind his eyes. "You still want to stand by me? Even knowing that?"
Her heart thudded painfully. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say no. But what left her lips was a whisper that surprised them both.
"I don't want to stand by the image they paint of you. I want to stand by you."
For the first time, Ethan's walls cracked—not with rage, but with something far more dangerous. Vulnerability.
And Amara knew in that moment—whatever this contract marriage had started as, it was no longer business. It was a fire she couldn't walk away from.
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