Chapter 7
After their spa day, Amelia dropped Harper off and found herself standing in front of a high–end salon in SoHo. The stylist looked at her waist–length hair with obvious dismay.[]
“You really want to cut all of this off? Do you know how long it takes to grow hair this healthy?“[]
It was beautiful hair–thick, glossy black silk that she’d been maintaining religiously for years. The kind of hair that made other women jealous.[]
Amelia studied herself in the mirror. Long black hair, pale skin, a soft yellow dress that screamed “sweet and demure.” Even without makeup, she looked like some porcelain doll–beautiful, pure, completely harmless.[]
She smiled calmly. “Cut it.“[]
The waist–length hair was Nathan’s preference, not hers. It never had been.
The stylist sighed dramatically and picked up his shears. Snip, snip, snip. Black strands fell to the floor like the chains she’d been wearing for seven years.]
When he finally turned the chair around, Amelia barely recognized herself.
“Holy shit,” the stylist breathed. “You look incredible. This cut is perfect for your bone structure. Want to add some color? Some texture? I could make you look like a total bombshell–“[]
Amelia touched her stomach reflexively. “Maybe next time. It’s getting late.”
The stylist looked disappointed but handed her his card. “Promise me you’ll come back. When were you thinking?”
Amelia glanced down at her still–flat abdomen. “A week or so. Maybe two weeks at most.” Once the procedure was over and she’d recovered.]]
“Deal. You better not flake on me.”
Outside the salon, Amelia caught her reflection in a store window and almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back. She walked into the Bergdorf Goodman across the street, looking at her sweet, innocent outfit with new eyes.
Sweet and innocent was Nathan’s taste. It meant obedient, controllable. It wasn’t her.[]
An hour later, she emerged with several shopping bags. Back at her new apartment, she surveyed her purchases spread across the bed–sharp blazers, silk blouses, perfectly tailored trousers, a few dresses that actually had personality.[]
She stripped off the yellow sundress and pulled on a black Valentino suit with subtle but edgy details. Traded her canvas tote for a Chanel chain bag. Kicked off her flat sandals and stepped into pointed–toe Louboutin heels.[]
Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.[]
“Happy rebirth, Amelia,” she said to her reflection.[]
But the woman in the mirror wasn’t smiling. Amelia tried to force her lips into a grin, but it felt fake, hollow.
Seven years. Of course it hurt. But if she didn’t feel like smiling, she wouldn’t pretend anymore.
She sighed and started planning tomorrow. First the hospital, then a meeting with Louie Cavendish about the singing competition.
The next morning, Amelia was driving toward Mount Sinai when her phone rang. Louie Cavendish–CEO of Cavendish Entertainment, one of the biggest music companies in the city. His family’s media empire rivaled the Harrisons in influence.[]
Louie was the youngest Cavendish son, running the entertainment division. Before her marriage, Amelia had written songs under his label. After the wedding, Nathan had wanted her to focus on “taking care of Grandpa,” so she’d stepped back from performing. But Louie had convinced her to keep writing under the pseudonym “Amor“-just to maintain her industry connections in case she ever wanted to come back]
Because of Nathan, she’d signed a confidentiality agreement Only she and Louie knew that “Amor” was really Amelia Visconti.]
6.0%
Chapter 7
“Louie?” She pulled over to take the call. Their meeting wasn’t supposed to be until this afternoon.[]
“Amor, can you come to the office right now?” His voice sounded strained, which was unusual for him.
Something was wrong. Louie never called her by her stage name unless other people were around.[]
“What’s going on? I have a doctor’s appointment–“[]
“Someone wants to buy your latest song.” He still sounded uncomfortable. “They’re insisting on meeting you personally.”
Amelia frowned. “Just handle it like you always do. You don’t need me there for a sale.“]]
“This buyer is… different.” Louie paused, then seemed to make a decision. “It’s Vivian Hope.”
What? “The florist? Why would she want to buy a song?”
“It gets weirder,” Louie said grimly. “I already told her no, but she showed up at the office anyway. And Amelia? Nathan’s with her. They’re not taking no for an answer.“]
(0)
6.5%
