WHISPERED LIES OF THE BILLIONAIRE

How long, Amelia, do you plan to stay there? It won't make a difference to stare. The loud, acrid voice of my father cut through the quiet as I paused in the doorway.

Grandeur once glistened in the mansion—our mansion. At this point, it seemed to be a tomb of shattered promises and dim memories. The beauty was engulfed by the shadows while the chandeliers continued to glow dimly in the last of the brightness. With a drink of whiskey hanging from his hand, my father sat slouched forward in his favorite recliner. It was a blow I hadn't anticipated to see him so devastated.

After saying, "Father, there’s still hope," I entered and left my suitcase by the entrance. Even I thought the words sounded corny, but I had to utter them. I had to be convinced.

He laughed sarcastically, which made my stomach turn. "Have hope? The vultures came for our assets, and hope fled. The instant I signed away everything, hope vanished. All of us are done, Amelia.

My voice quiver, but I snapped, "We're not finished." I made myself stare at him, and my hands at my sides clinched into fists. "You're surrendering, but I won't. Something is still within our power.

He raised his watery, red-rimmed eyes to mine. The look of the man I had once adored briefly changed before being engulfed by embarrassment and tiredness. "What would you like us to do, too? Were we to sell the garments we wear? "Beg on the streets?" The wrath dissolved into sadness as his voice cracked. "I let us down, Amelia. "I let you down."

When he said those words, it felt like a knife to the chest. My dad wasn't meant to fail. Our family was based on his unwavering foundation; he was the man who had created an empire out of nothing. He was only a shadow of that man today, though, and I was now bearing the responsibility for his failure.

I muttered, "I'll fix it," but my throat constricted as uncertainty tore at my determination. "I don’t know how yet, but I will."

Before he could speak another word, I turned on my heel and walked into the empty shell of what had been our house, my heels clicking on the marble flooring. Everywhere I turned, I was teased by memories—the warmth that was vanished, the laughter that used to fill the halls. There was a strong whiff of whiskey and defeat now.

Other than a pile of foreclosure notices, the great table in the dining room was deserted. I ran my fingertips over the papers, feeling the actual power of their contents bearing down on me. Millions... Our debtors were circling like wolves, and we owed millions.

My dad rose up, his footsteps heavy behind me, and I heard his chair crack. He said, "Amelia," in a gentler, almost beseeching tone. "You're quite young. You're not deserving. Make a fresh start somewhere far from here and get out.

"And abandon you?" I whirled around to confront him, pain and rage rising to the surface. Are you interested in that? For me to flee as everything breaks down?"

The remorse in his eyes was sufficient enough even though he didn't say anything. I felt a mixture of affection and hate in my chest. I adored my father, but I felt suffocated by his vulnerability. I would be on my own if he couldn't defend us.

My bedroom was the only room that still seemed like mine, so I went upstairs after leaving the dining room. With the once-bright decorations either sold or packed away, the walls were now empty. The covers were tangled from sleepless nights, and I had not made my bed. Dumping my face into my hands, I slid against the edge of the mattress.

A knock on the door jolted me out of my reverie. From the hallway came my father's voice, "Amelia?"

"What is it?" Not trying to hide the tiredness in my voice, I asked.

"Someone is downstairs now. "I have a proposition," he continues.

I scowled and raised my head. "What kind of proposition?"

"He didn’t say," my dad said, his face tense. "But he looks serious."

I rose up, smoothing my rumpled skirt as a chill went down my spine. With each step I took, my pulse accelerated as I followed my father down the stairs. Could it be someone? A banker? Lawyer? Or perhaps someone worse?

I had never seen the man standing in the parlor before. The air of control he emanated made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He was tall and calm. His dark hair was styled back, his fitted suit was immaculate, and his intense blue eyes met mine as soon as I walked in. His eyes seemed to see right through me, and there was something unsettling about that.

"Miss Amelia," he uttered in a bold and fluid voice. Jack Sterling is my name. In my opinion, we may support one another.

Like a stroke of lightning, the name struck me. The name of the billionaire entrepreneur Jack Sterling was a byword for might and cruelty. What had he done in the wreckage of my family's house now?

"I don’t understand," I responded, with a firm voice in spite of my internal distress. "Why are you here?"

Though it didn't reach his eyes, a slight smile curved Jack's lips. The decline in your family's reputation has been... noteworthy. And it turns out that your situation is similar to a chance I've been thinking about."

I looked at my dad; he was quiet and pallid, with slouched shoulders. "What kind of opportunity?" I crossed my arms across my chest and asked.

Jack moved in closer, his presence commanding attention. His eyes never left his eyes as he said, "A mutually beneficial arrangement," "Your father’s debts are substantial, but I have the means to make them disappear."

"And what do you want in return?" With my heart racing in my chest, I made a demand.

His grin grew larger than a shark's. "You, Amelia, Miss. "I want you."

His words were ringing in my ears as the room whirled. My father's piercing gasp mirrored my own surprise. I retreated a step, feeling as though his proposal were physically weighing me down.

"No, I don't I stumbled out, my voice just above a whisper, "I don't understand."

Although Jack's passion maintained, his expression softened. Simply, "Marry me," he said. "Every debt your family has will be forgiven if you marry me. Your legacy, your home, and your father will all be preserved. One signature will suffice.

Grasping a chair with his head in his hands, my father staggered back. Except for the ticking of the old clock on the mantel, the room was silent. A tornado of terror, rage, and desperation swirled through my head. This stranger, this man, was giving me a lifeline, but at what price?

My voice trembled as I muttered, "You're insane."

Jack continued to smile. He responded, "Perhaps." "But, Amelia, I usually get my way. Additionally, I want you right now.

Words stuck in my throat as I opened my mouth to protest and demand that he leave. This is because, despite my anger, a tiny, cunning voice muttered in my head: What are your options?

Jack remarked, "You have twenty-four hours to decide," as he turned to face the door. "After that, my offer expires."

He left without saying anything else, leaving me to stand in the ruins of my life and make a choice that would either save my family or ruin me completely.