The Billionaire's forgotten Bride

Amelia POV

The massive chandelier in the dining room sparkled with cold light, its brilliance casting stark shadows across the long table where I sat, alone, poking at the untouched food on my plate. The grandeur of the Cole estate, with its towering walls and cold, gleaming floors, felt more like a gilded cage than a home. It had only been a week since I was thrust into this life as Mrs. Amelia Cole, and already I knew I'd traded one nightmare for another. The sharp clatter of heels against marble snapped me out of my thoughts. Rebecca Cole entered the room like a storm, her piercing green eyes narrowing as they landed on me. "Why is the table set like this?" she barked at one of the maids before turning her scornful gaze back to me. "Amelia, what are you doing just sitting there? Do you think you're a queen now that you've married my son? What do you think you're doing?" Her words were like knives, each one cutting a little deeper into my already fragile heart. "I... I thought the staff-" I stammered, but she cut me off with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand. "Don't you dare make excuses," she snapped. "You are part of this family now, and you will earn your place. Get up and make yourself useful. Help the staff clean this mess. Or do you expect us to wait on your hand and foot like some pampered princess?" I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I pushed back my chair and stood. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cole," I murmured, lowering my gaze to the floor. "It's Mrs. Rebecca to you," she corrected sharply. "Don't forget your place, you dirty thing." My throat tightened, and I forced myself to nod. Every step I took toward the kitchen felt heavier than the last. I had hoped-naively, perhaps-that this marriage would offer me an escape from my mother's constant criticism and Lisa's petty cruelties. But now, I realized I'd simply exchanged one prison for another. I never failed to remind myself of the mistake I had made. Maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to my inner voice telling me to run but I didn't dare to do so. By the time I reached the kitchen, my heart was pounding in my chest. The maids whispered among themselves, their glances filled with a mix of pity and disapproval. I wanted to disappear, to shrink into nothingness. Instead, I grabbed a tray of dishes and began the humiliating task of cleaning up the dining room. As I worked, the door to the dining room opened again, and this time, the air seemed to grow colder. Maxwell's towering figure filled the doorway. His dark suit clung to his broad shoulders, and his piercing green eyes-so much like his mother's-swept over me with a look that was equal parts annoyance and indifference. "Mother, what is this nonsense?" he demanded, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Rebecca turned to him, her expression softening into something that almost resembled affection. "Oh, Maxwell, I'm simply teaching your wife some discipline. She needs to learn how things work in this family." Maxwell's eyes flicked to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something-concern, maybe?-flicker across his face. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. "If she's going to live here, she'll follow the rules," he said flatly, his tone devoid of emotion. "But don't waste your time, Mother. She's hardly worth the effort." His words hit me like a slap, and I fought to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to demand why he had married me if he despised me so much. But I couldn't. I didn't have the strength. Rebecca smirked, clearly pleased with her son's response. "You're right, Maxwell. She's not worth much at all. But I suppose she serves her purpose." I didn't dare ask what that purpose was. Instead, I kept my head down and continued cleaning, the humiliation burning in my chest like a hot coal. When the dining room was spotless, I retreated to the small bedroom I had been assigned. It wasn't the luxurious master suite I'd expected as Maxwell's wife, but a plain, sparsely furnished room tucked away in a quiet corner of the estate. It was clear they didn't see me as part of the family-just an inconvenience to be hidden away. I sank onto the bed, my head in my hands. The reality of my situation was suffocating. I had hoped, even prayed, that this marriage would be the start of something better. But instead, it felt like the end of everything I had ever dreamed of. As the hours dragged on, the weight of the day settled over me like a heavy blanket. I thought about my mother's cold smile as she shoved me toward this life, about Lisa's smug look of triumph as I packed my bags. They had gotten exactly what they wanted: financial security and a scapegoat to bear the burden of their greed. But what about me? What did I get? Just then, a soft knock at the door startled me. I wiped at my tear-streaked face and sat up. "Come in," I called, my voice trembling. The door creaked open, and one of the younger maids, a kind girl named Rosa, stepped inside. She held a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. "I thought you might need this," she said softly, her eyes filled with compassion. I managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Rosa," I whispered, taking the tray from her. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something, then sighed and shook her head. "You don't deserve this," she said finally. "Any of it. You're too kind for people like them." Her words brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, and I blinked them away. "I'll be fine," I said, though the words felt hollow. Rosa gave me a sad smile before leaving, and I was once again alone. I sipped the tea, letting its warmth soothe my aching heart, and stared out the small window at the dark sky. Somewhere out there, a better life awaited me. I just had to find the strength to reach for it. But for now, I was trapped, a prisoner in a gilded cage, surrounded by people who saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their games. And yet, deep down, a small part of me refused to give up hope. I had survived my mother's cruelty. I had endured Lisa's taunts. Surely, I could survive this, too.