Chapter 6: The Storm Breaks

Amelia stood in the clearing, the rain continuing to pour down in cold sheets that soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone. The tension that had filled the air between her, Ethan, and Matthew had dissolved into the oppressive silence left behind by her brother’s retreat. The decision she had made, the line she had crossed, hung heavy in her chest, her heart pounding as the weight of her choice settled in.

Ethan was by her side, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if to anchor her in the moment. His presence was solid, grounding, but her mind was spinning. She had chosen him, chosen to break away from her family, from everything she had known, and now she had to face the consequences.

She wiped at her face, unsure if it was tears or rain running down her cheeks. Maybe it was both. “What have I done?” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the storm.

“You’ve done what you had to,” Ethan said softly, his blue eyes watching her closely. “You made a choice, Amelia. And whatever comes next, you don’t have to face it alone.”

Amelia nodded, but her chest tightened with a new wave of uncertainty. What did come next? She had never imagined her brother would walk away so easily, and yet his departure left a strange hollowness inside her. She had expected a greater fight—more resistance, more fury. But Matthew had retreated, leaving behind a sense of dread that gnawed at her.

Ethan’s hand slipped down to hers, his fingers intertwining with hers, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cold rain. “We can’t stay here,” he said gently, glancing toward the darkened forest that stretched out ahead of them. “It’s only a matter of time before he tells the rest of your family.”

Amelia’s heart raced at the thought. She could already picture it: Matthew returning home, spilling the truth to her father, to the entire Rothwell family. The moment her father learned of her defiance, there would be no turning back. The Rothwells would come for her. For them both.

“You’re right,” she murmured, shaking herself from her thoughts. “We have to go.”

But where? The question hung in the air between them. They had nowhere to run—nowhere they could go where the shadow of their families wouldn’t follow. The feud between the Rothwells and Hargroves was too deep, too bitter, and she knew that neither family would allow them to simply disappear. The only way out would be to confront the truth head-on.

“We could leave town,” Ethan suggested, his voice low, but even as he said the words, Amelia knew it wasn’t possible. The feud would follow them, no matter where they went. Willowcreek was too small, and their families too powerful. Running wasn’t the answer.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “We have to face them.”

Ethan frowned, his hand tightening around hers. “You know what that means, right? You know what your father will do when he finds out?”

“I do.” Amelia swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear. “But I can’t run away from this. I have to confront my father, face him, and tell him the truth.”

Ethan’s gaze softened, his concern clear. “Amelia, you know he won’t take this lightly. He’ll do everything in his power to keep us apart. He may even—”

“He may even kill you.” Amelia finished his sentence, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ethan’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue. They both knew her father, Victor Rothwell, would stop at nothing to preserve the family’s legacy. The feud had consumed him, driven him to ensure that no Rothwell would ever be connected to a Hargrove, and the idea of his own daughter betraying him by falling in love with one would be more than he could bear. She could already picture the cold fury that would twist his face when he found out.

“Then we’ll face him together,” Ethan said, his voice resolute. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it head-on.”

Amelia looked up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. He had been willing to risk everything for her, even knowing the danger that lay ahead. In that moment, despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out of this together.

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go.”

The decision made, they turned toward the forest, the rain-soaked trees rising like dark sentinels around them. The path ahead was treacherous, but Amelia’s mind was already set on what lay at the end: the Rothwell estate, and the inevitable confrontation with her father. As they walked through the muddy forest, her heart pounded with every step, each one bringing them closer to the reckoning they both feared.

It wasn’t long before the trees thinned, giving way to the edge of the Rothwell estate. Amelia stopped at the treeline, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the large stone mansion that loomed ahead, its windows glowing faintly in the dim evening light. It was a place she had known her whole life, but now it felt alien, imposing. For the first time, the house didn’t feel like home. It felt like a fortress.

She glanced at Ethan, who stood by her side, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly.

Amelia took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. “I have to be.”

Together, they crossed the threshold of the estate, the weight of what they were about to do pressing down on them with each step. The path that led to the front entrance was slick with rain, but neither of them faltered. As they approached the large oak doors, Amelia’s heart raced in her chest, her stomach twisting with fear. She wasn’t sure what she would find inside—whether her father already knew, or whether they would have time to explain. But there was no turning back now.

Ethan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before she reached for the heavy brass knocker on the door. The sound echoed through the stone mansion like a drumbeat, a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of her heart.

They waited in silence, the rain dripping from their clothes, as the moments stretched on. And then, with a creak, the door swung open.

Standing in the doorway was not a servant, not her brother Matthew, but her father himself—Victor Rothwell. His face was shadowed by the dim light from the hallway, but there was no mistaking the cold fury in his eyes when they landed on Amelia and Ethan, standing together.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Victor’s gaze shifted from his daughter to Ethan, and back again, his lips curling into a thin line of disapproval. The silence was heavy, oppressive, until finally, Victor spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

“Amelia,” he said, his tone dripping with ice. “What have you done?”

Amelia swallowed hard, her pulse racing. She could feel Ethan tense beside her, ready for whatever might come, but she knew this was her battle to fight.

“I’ve made my choice,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “I’m not going to hide anymore, Father. I’m with him.”

Victor’s eyes darkened, his face hardening into an expression of pure fury. “You dare stand here, in front of me, with a Hargrove?” He stepped forward, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, Amelia? Do you understand the consequences of your actions?”

“I do,” she said, her voice shaking with fear and defiance. “But this feud—it’s killing us all. I can’t live like this anymore. I won’t.”

Victor’s expression twisted with rage, and for a moment, Amelia thought he might strike her. But then his gaze shifted to Ethan, and his lips curled into a sneer. “You think you can take my daughter from me? From this family?” His voice was deadly quiet, filled with venom. “You don’t know what you’ve started, boy.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t flinch. “I’m not taking her from anything. She’s choosing for herself.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, looming over them both. “There will be no more choices,” he hissed. “Not after tonight.”

Amelia’s blood ran cold. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and dangerous, and she knew her father’s threats were not empty.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Victor’s gaze locked onto hers, cold and unfeeling. “You’ll see.”

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