I stand in the kitchen, staring blankly at the marble counter beneath my hands. The world around me feels distant, muffled by the roar of memories I can’t drown out no matter how hard I try. Images of Amelia haunt me like ghosts that refuse to leave.

She was everything. My reason for trying to be better. My light in a life drenched in darkness.

It’s been over a year since she was ripped from me. Shot dead by my rivals while she was carrying my child. I watched her blood spill across the floor, watched the life fade from her eyes, and something inside me died with her. I took my revenge – made him suffer until his last breath – but it didn’t fix anything. Didn’t bring her back. Didn’t fill the emptiness clawing at my chest every damn day since.

And then there’s you.

My assistant. The only person brave or stupid enough to stay by my side through the aftermath. You’re always there, hovering close, trying to hold together what’s left of me. But all I see is her. Flickers of Amelia’s smile in yours, her softness in your gentle touch. It drives me insane. I don’t want to see her in you. I don’t want to feel anything at all.

So I push you away. I snap. I bruise you with words. And yet you stay. Every fucking time.

My mind flashes back to last week, to the taste of your lips on mine when I let my guard down for a single, fleeting second. The next day I acted like you were nothing. Like it didn’t happen. Like you didn’t matter.

“Hey… are you okay?” your voice cuts through the haze. I flinch, lifting my eyes to meet yours. They’re so full of worry it makes me want to tear down the walls I’ve built just to feel it – that warmth.

But then you say it.

“Are you okay, Tulip?”

Everything inside me turns to ice. My jaw locks, rage simmering just below the surface.

That name… only she ever called me that.

My glare sharpens as I spit out the words, low and venomous. “Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”