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.