His contract wife,His greatest regret

Amelia Rosewood never imagined that her life would turn out this way.

At twenty-two, she was supposed to be in her final year at Westbridge University, preparing for her final examinations and looking forward to graduation. She had dreams of becoming successful, getting a good job, and giving her parents the comfortable life they had always deserved.

But life had other plans for her.

Everything changed six months ago when a phone call destroyed the future she had spent years working towards.

Her parents had been travelling to another state when their car was involved in a terrible accident. Her father died before he could be taken to the hospital, while her mother survived with serious injuries.

When Amelia arrived at the hospital that night, she could barely recognise the woman lying on the bed.

Her mother's leg was badly injured, and the doctors explained that she needed urgent surgery. The cost was far beyond what Amelia could afford.

She tried reaching out to relatives, family friends, and anyone she thought might help. Some promised to call her back. Others gave excuses. A few contributed whatever they could, but it was nowhere near enough.

Then came the hardest decision of her life.

She had to leave university.

The thought of abandoning her education broke her heart, but she had no choice. Her mother needed her, and she could not continue attending lectures while the only parent she had left lay in a hospital bed.

Since then, Amelia had done almost every honest job she could find.

She washed clothes for wealthy families, cleaned houses, and hawked snacks on the streets. Some days, she earned enough to buy food and her mother's medication. On other days, she returned home with barely anything.

Still, she refused to give up.

Every morning, she told herself that things would get better.

Every night, she wondered how much longer she could keep going.

That Friday evening, Amelia was sitting beside her mother's bed when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Good evening. Am I speaking with Miss Amelia Rosewood?"

"Yes, please."

"My name is Grace. I'm calling from Golden Events Catering. One of our temporary workers cancelled at the last minute, and we need someone to help serve guests at a private event tonight. Are you available?"

Amelia sat up immediately.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm available."

"The event starts at seven. Please arrive by six. The payment is eighty thousand naira, provided you complete the shift."

Amelia's eyes widened.

Eighty thousand naira.

It was more than she usually earned in several weeks.

"When should I come?" she asked again, afraid she had heard incorrectly.

"Six o'clock. I'll send you the address."

The call ended, and Amelia stared at her phone.

For the first time in weeks, she felt a small spark of hope.

"Mummy, I got a job for tonight," she said, turning towards her mother. "The pay is good. If I save enough, maybe we'll finally be able to do the surgery."

Her mother reached for her hand.

"Amelia, my daughter, you have done more than enough for me."

"No, Mummy. Don't say that. You're the only family I have left. I'm not giving up on you."

Her mother squeezed her hand, tears gathering in her eyes.

Amelia kissed her forehead before standing.

She had a few hours to get ready.

And for the first time in a long while, she left the hospital believing that the day might end differently.

By seven o'clock, Amelia was standing outside the entrance of a magnificent mansion.

She had never seen anything like it.

Expensive cars lined the driveway, security guards stood at the entrance, and elegantly dressed guests walked into the building as though they belonged to another world entirely.

She looked down at her simple black uniform and adjusted the apron around her waist.

"Focus, Amelia," she whispered to herself. "You're here to work, not to admire anybody's wealth."

Inside, the mansion was even more breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, soft music filled the hall, and waiters moved between tables carrying trays of food and drinks.

A woman introduced herself as the event supervisor and quickly explained Amelia's duties.

"Serve the guests, keep your head down, and don't get involved in conversations that don't concern you," she instructed. "Most importantly, stay away from the man in the black suit."

Amelia frowned.

"Which man?"

The supervisor gave her a look.

"The man whose birthday we're celebrating tonight. Alexander Blackwell."

The name meant nothing to Amelia.

"Who is he?"

The woman stared at her as though she had just asked who owned the sun.

"Alexander Blackwell? The billionaire businessman? The owner of Blackwell Global Group?"

Amelia shook her head.

"Sorry. I don't really follow those things."

"Well, tonight, you'll follow instructions. That man doesn't tolerate mistakes."

Before Amelia could respond, the supervisor hurried away.

Amelia took a deep breath, picked up a tray, and got to work.

For the next hour, everything went smoothly.

Then trouble began.

A woman in a sparkling silver dress stopped Amelia near the staircase.

"Excuse me. You there."

Amelia turned.

"Yes, ma'am?"

The woman held out her empty glass.

"Get me another drink. And be quick about it."

"Certainly, ma'am."

Amelia collected the glass and turned towards the drinks table. But before she could take more than two steps, the woman called after her.

"And try not to embarrass yourself. People like you don't usually work in places like this."

Amelia stopped.

She had heard comments like that before. People who dressed well and had money often assumed that anyone wearing a uniform was beneath them.

She swallowed her anger and continued walking.

She needed the money. She couldn't afford to lose the job.

A few minutes later, she returned with the drink.

The woman reached for it, but someone bumped into Amelia from behind.

The tray tilted.

The red drink spilled across the woman's silver dress.

For a moment, the music seemed to fade.

The woman stared at the stain, then slowly raised her eyes towards Amelia.

"Are you insane?"

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Someone pushed me. I'll get something to clean it immediately."

"You ruined my dress!"

"I know, and I'm very sorry."

"Do you have any idea how much this costs?"

Amelia lowered her head.

"No, ma'am."

"Of course you don't! You probably couldn't afford the buttons on it!"

Several guests turned to look.

Amelia felt her face grow hot, but she forced herself to remain calm.

"I've apologised, ma'am. Please allow me to clean it."

The woman laughed bitterly.

"Apologised? You think that solves everything? Someone should teach you how to behave around important people."

Amelia's fingers tightened around the tray.

She was tired.

Tired of struggling, tired of being looked down on, and tired of having to swallow every insult because she needed money to survive.

"I'm sorry I stained your dress," she said quietly. "But I didn't do it intentionally, and there's no reason to insult me."

The woman's expression changed.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

The woman raised her hand as though she intended to slap her.

Amelia instinctively stepped back.

But before the woman's hand could come down, a deep voice interrupted them.

"What's going on here?"

Everyone turned.

A tall man in a perfectly tailored black suit stood a few feet away. His expression was cold, and the look in his eyes made the woman lower her hand immediately.

"Alexander!" she exclaimed, suddenly changing her tone. "This girl ruined my dress, and now she's being rude to me!"

Alexander glanced at the stain, then at Amelia.

"Is that true?"

Amelia swallowed.

"Sir, I'm sorry about the drink. Someone bumped into me, and it spilled. I offered to clean it, but-"

"I didn't ask for your entire explanation."

She fell silent.

His tone was so dismissive that she almost forgot she was standing in front of someone who could pay for her mother's surgery without thinking twice.

Almost.

Alexander looked at the woman.

"How much was the dress?"

She named an amount that made several nearby guests gasp.

Without hesitation, he turned to one of his assistants.

"Pay her for the dress."

The woman smiled triumphantly.

Alexander then looked at Amelia.

"And you. You're finished here. Leave."

Amelia stared at him.

"But, sir-"

"Do you have a hearing problem?"

Something inside her snapped.

"With all due respect, sir, I made a mistake, and I apologised. You can dismiss me if you want, but you don't have to speak to me as though I'm worthless."

Silence fell over the room.

Nobody spoke to Alexander Blackwell like that.

Nobody.

His assistant looked horrified. The woman in the silver dress covered her mouth, while several guests exchanged shocked glances.

Alexander slowly stepped closer.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, sir," Amelia replied, meeting his gaze. "But I know who I am, and I don't deserve to be treated like this."

For the first time that evening, Alexander seemed genuinely interested in someone other than himself.

He studied her face for several seconds.

Then he turned towards his assistant.

"Find out her name."

Amelia's heart sank.

She had just lost her job, and now she might have made an enemy powerful enough to ensure she never worked in another luxury venue again.

She placed the tray on a nearby table and walked towards the exit without another word.

She didn't look back.

She couldn't afford to.

Her mother's surgery was still waiting, and eighty thousand naira had just slipped through her fingers.

As Amelia stepped outside, she felt tears sting her eyes.

"God, please," she whispered. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

Behind her, the party continued.

But inside the mansion, Alexander Blackwell was no longer paying attention to his guests.

"Sir," his assistant said cautiously, approaching him with a phone in his hand. "I've found the information you requested about the girl."

Alexander took the phone.

He glanced at the screen.

Then his expression changed.

"Amelia Rosewood," he murmured.

His assistant nodded.

"There's something else, sir. Her father was Thomas Rosewood."

Alexander's eyes narrowed.

"Thomas Rosewood?"

"Yes, sir. The same man who was connected to your father's company before his death."

Alexander stared at the photograph on the screen.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he looked towards the mansion's entrance, where Amelia had disappeared only moments earlier.

"Find her," he ordered.

His assistant hesitated.

"May I ask why, sir?"

Alexander's jaw tightened.

"Because," he said coldly, "that woman may be the key to a problem my family has been trying to bury for twenty years."

And Amelia Rosewood had no idea that the worst night of her life had just brought her to the attention of the one man who could change her future forever.

Amelia returned home late that evening, her mind still

occupied with the events of the previous night.

The moment she stepped into their small apartment, she

dropped her handbag on the worn-out sofa and let out a tired sigh.

It had been a terrible day.

She had woken up that morning hoping that the temporary job

would help her pay part of her mother's medical bills. Instead, she had ended

up being insulted in front of wealthy people and dismissed by a man who seemed

to believe that money gave him the right to treat others however he pleased.

Alexander Blackwell.

Even thinking about his name made her angry.

"Who does he think he is?" she muttered, removing her shoes.

"Just because he has money, he thinks everyone else is nothing."

Unfortunately, being angry with Alexander would not pay her

mother's hospital bills.

Amelia looked at the envelope in her handbag. Inside it was

the little money she had managed to save from her previous jobs. She counted it

again, even though she already knew the amount.

It was nowhere near enough.

Her mother's surgery was becoming more urgent, and the

hospital had made it clear that they could not keep postponing it indefinitely.

Amelia pressed her fingers against her forehead.

"What am I going to do now?"

She was so lost in thought that she almost forgot to check

on her mother.

When she entered the bedroom, Evelyn Rosewood was lying

against two pillows, watching a television that occasionally lost its signal.

"Amelia, you're back," her mother said, smiling weakly.

"Yes, Mummy."

"How was the work?"

Amelia froze.

For a moment, she considered telling her mother everything.

She wanted to explain how the evening had gone wrong and how the money she had

hoped to earn was now uncertain.

But one look at her mother's tired face changed her mind.

"It was fine, Mummy. Just tiring."

"Did they pay you?"

Amelia looked away.

"They said they would contact me about the payment."

It was not entirely a lie, although she knew there was no

guarantee she would receive anything.

Evelyn studied her daughter carefully.

"Amelia, you don't have to pretend to be strong all the

time."

"I'm not pretending, Mummy."

"Then why do you look as if you're carrying the whole world

on your shoulders?"

Amelia forced a smile and sat beside her.

"Because somebody has to take care of you."

Her mother reached for her hand.

"And who will take care of you?"

Amelia had no answer.

Since her father's death, she had barely allowed herself to

think about her own future. Her university education had been interrupted, her

savings were almost gone, and the dreams she once had seemed to belong to

another person.

She had once imagined graduating from Westbridge University,

finding a good job, and making her parents proud.

Now, she was simply trying to get through each day.

After helping her mother take her medication, Amelia

returned to the sitting room. She sat quietly in the darkness, remembering the

way Alexander had looked at her at the party.

He had not looked at her like a person.

He had looked at her as though she were a problem that

needed to be removed.

"May you never need anybody the way I need help right now,"

she whispered.

Then she rested her head against the sofa and closed her

eyes.

She did not know that, miles away, the man she had been

cursing was already asking questions about her.

At Blackwell Global Group, Alexander sat behind his desk,

studying a file his assistant had placed before him.

Daniel Hayes stood opposite him.

"Sir, I found some information about Amelia Rosewood."

Alexander opened the file.

The first page contained her name, age, educational

background, and current address.

The next page contained a photograph of an older man.

Alexander stopped turning the pages.

"Who is this?"

"Thomas Rosewood. Amelia's father."

For several seconds, Alexander said nothing.

He picked up the photograph and studied it more closely.

He remembered seeing that face before.

Not recently.

Years ago.

His father had kept several old photographs and documents in

a locked cabinet in his private study. Alexander had once come across the name

Thomas Rosewood while searching for a document, but his father had immediately

taken it away from him.

When he asked about it, his father had told him to mind his

own business.

Alexander had never forgotten that reaction.

"What happened to him?" he asked.

"According to the records, he died six months ago in a car

accident. His wife survived but suffered a serious leg injury."

Alexander returned his attention to the photograph.

"Find out everything you can about him."

"Everything, sir?"

"Everything."

Daniel hesitated.

"Sir, there is something else. Thomas Rosewood was connected

to your father's company many years ago."

Alexander slowly raised his head.

"What do you mean by connected?"

"I haven't confirmed the exact nature of their relationship.

Some old company records are missing, and the people who might know more have

either left the company or refused to speak."

Alexander leaned back in his chair.

A cold feeling settled in his chest.

For twenty years, his family had avoided discussing certain

events from the past. His father had died without explaining what had happened,

and every time Alexander tried to investigate, someone found a reason to stop

him.

Now, the daughter of a man connected to that past had

appeared unexpectedly at his birthday party.

It was too much of a coincidence.

"Keep investigating," he ordered. "And don't let anyone know

what you're doing."

Daniel nodded.

"Yes, sir."

As Daniel turned to leave, Alexander spoke again.

"One more thing."

Daniel stopped.

"Find out whether Amelia knows anything about her father's

connection to my family."

"I'll do that."

When the door closed, Alexander opened the file again.

He stared at Amelia's photograph.

She looked nothing like the people he usually encountered in

his world. There was something stubborn in her expression, something that

reminded him of a person who had been forced to fight for everything she had.

He remembered the way she had looked him in the eye before

leaving his mansion.

Most people avoided challenging him.

Amelia Rosewood had not.

For reasons he could not yet explain, that bothered him

almost as much as it interested him.

He closed the file.

"Who are you really, Amelia Rosewood?"

He had no idea that the answer to that question would change

his life.

And he certainly had no idea how much he would one day

regret asking it.

Two days passed, and Amelia's situation became more difficult.

She had visited three different places looking for work, but none of them offered her anything permanent.

One shop owner told her he already had enough workers. A woman who needed someone to clean her house promised to call her later but never did.

By the afternoon, Amelia was exhausted.

She sat on a low wall outside a small shop, holding a bottle of water she had bought with the last of her transport money.

Her phone vibrated.

She checked the screen, hoping it was someone offering her a job.

It was an unknown number.

Amelia almost ignored the call, but something made her answer.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon. Am I speaking with Miss Amelia Rosewood?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Daniel Hayes. I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Alexander Blackwell."

Amelia sat up immediately.

Alexander Blackwell?

She remembered the party, the woman's silver dress, and the humiliating way she had been dismissed.

"What does he want now?" she asked before she could stop herself.

There was a brief silence.

"I understand that your last encounter with Mr. Blackwell wasn't pleasant," Daniel replied politely. "However, he would like to meet with you."

"Why?"

"He has something important to discuss with you."

"If he wants to complain about what happened at the party, he can save himself the trouble. I have already moved on."

"Miss Rosewood, this isn't about the incident at the party."

"Then what is it about?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Blackwell would prefer to explain that himself."

Amelia laughed without humour.

"Of course. People like him enjoy making everybody wait for them."

Daniel remained professional.

"I understand your concerns, but I assure you that he has a reason for requesting this meeting."

Amelia looked at the street around her.

She needed money. She needed a job. Most importantly, she needed to find a way to pay for her mother's surgery.

But she did not want to put herself in a position where Alexander could humiliate her again.

"Tell him I'm not interested."

She ended the call.

For a few seconds, she felt proud of herself.

Then she remembered the hospital bill.

Her smile disappeared.

"Amelia, what are you doing?" she whispered to herself. "You need help, not another fight."

She placed her phone in her bag and started walking home.

At Blackwell Global Group, Daniel lowered his phone and looked at Alexander.

"She refused, sir."

Alexander raised an eyebrow.

"She refused?"

"Yes, sir."

A strange expression crossed Alexander's face.

He was accustomed to people rearranging their schedules whenever he requested their presence. Some people even arrived hours early because they were afraid of displeasing him.

Yet Amelia Rosewood had ended the conversation without giving him the opportunity to explain himself.

"Call her again."

"Sir, she may not answer."

"Then send her a message."

Daniel hesitated before asking the question he had been holding back.

"Sir, why is this meeting so important?"

Alexander closed the document in front of him.

"Because I need answers."

"About her father?"

"About everything."

Daniel nodded, but Alexander could see that he was still curious.

Alexander stood and walked towards the window.

His father's company had grown into an international business empire, but there were parts of its history that Alexander had never fully understood.

Several years earlier, he had discovered discrepancies in old financial records. Whenever he tried to investigate them, he encountered missing documents and people who suddenly became unwilling to talk.

His uncle, Richard Blackwell, had always insisted that the matter was settled.

Alexander did not trust him.

Richard had a habit of smiling whenever he wanted to hide something, and there were times when Alexander felt that his uncle knew far more than he admitted.

If Thomas Rosewood had been involved, his daughter might possess information that could help Alexander uncover the truth.

He was not interested in her personal problems.

At least, that was what he told himself.

That evening, Amelia sat beside her mother, helping her eat dinner.

Her phone vibrated again.

She glanced at it.

A message from Daniel Hayes.

Good evening, Miss Rosewood. Mr. Blackwell would still appreciate an opportunity to speak with you. He has assured me that this meeting concerns an important personal and business matter. Please let me know if you are willing to attend.

Amelia read the message twice.

She wanted to delete it.

Instead, she placed the phone on the table and continued helping her mother.

"Mummy, have you heard from the hospital today?" she asked.

Evelyn's expression changed.

"They called this afternoon."

Amelia stopped moving.

"What did they say?"

"They want us to discuss the surgery arrangements as soon as possible."

"Did they give you a new date?"

"Not yet."

Her mother tried to smile.

"Don't worry too much. We will find a way."

Amelia lowered her eyes.

Her mother was the one who needed help, yet she was the one comforting her.

Later that night, Amelia returned to her room and opened Daniel's message again.

She did not trust Alexander.

But she also knew that refusing every opportunity because of pride would not solve her problems.

After several minutes, she typed a reply.

I will meet him. Please send me the time and address.

Daniel responded almost immediately.

Thank you, Miss Rosewood. Mr. Blackwell will see you tomorrow at eleven in the morning. A car can be sent to pick you up if you need transportation.

Amelia frowned at the last sentence.

She did not want Alexander thinking she had agreed to meet him because she wanted his money.

She typed another message.

I can get there myself. Thank you.

Then she put her phone away.

She had agreed to meet Alexander Blackwell, but she had no idea what he wanted.

Perhaps he wanted to question her about her father.

Perhaps he wanted to apologise for the way he had treated her.

Or perhaps he had another reason entirely.

Amelia lay awake long after midnight, staring at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, she would meet the man who had made her feel worthless.

She promised herself that no matter what happened, she would not allow him to take away her dignity.

She had already lost enough.

She would not lose herself too.

At exactly eleven the next morning, Amelia arrived at Blackwell Global Group.

She stood outside the impressive building for a moment, taking a deep breath before entering.

She had no idea that Alexander was already waiting for her.

And she certainly had no idea that the meeting she had nearly refused would change the course of her life forever.