Chapter6 Fight for Her

Ethan’s POV

I pulled up to Amanda's house, a storm of emotions battling inside me. She was kneeling in the dirt, hair disheveled, looking broken in a way that tore at my insides. The sight of her like this—defeated, vulnerable—sent waves of protectiveness through me. She's mine, legally, though she barely knows what that means. Each breath felt heavier than the last as I stepped out of the car.

She looked up, eyes red and swollen from crying. Something in her gaze made me freeze. The raw pain there was partially my doing, and the guilt of that knowledge weighed on me like lead. We're married—a secret arrangement she didn't choose—and she's still being used as a pawn by her family. The unfairness of her situation fueled my determination.

I reached for her shoulders, hesitating when I saw her flinch. Doubt flickered through me. "Get up," I said, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty gnawing at me. Her lips quivered, a flash of defiance crossing her face. She hates me too, and somehow that hurts more than it should. The emotional distance between us felt vast, despite our proximity.

Her dad came out, looking angry. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. Contempt rose inside me as I faced him. This man had essentially sold his daughter to solve his problems. My contempt mixed with righteous anger as I stood my ground. "Taking my wife home," I said, the words firm and unwavering, cutting through the heavy silence that filled the room.

Richard's features twisted with rage as he advanced toward us, fists clenched at his sides. I instinctively stepped between him and Amanda, feeling her trembling behind me.

"Your wife?" he spat, his face flushing an unhealthy shade of red. "This pathetic arrangement won't last a day. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, boy."

I squared my shoulders, meeting his gaze without flinching. I hated this man more than anyone I'd ever met. He was selling his own daughter like it was nothing. I've dealt with all kinds of enemies in business, but Richard Davis was something else - just completely rotten to the core.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I replied, my voice dangerously quiet. "And I'm taking Amanda with me. Now."

Richard's laugh was ugly, hollow. "Take her then. See how long you last with her. When she becomes too much trouble—and trust me, she will—don't come crawling back here."

I glanced back at Amanda, seeing fresh tears welling in her eyes at her father's casual cruelty. Her blue dress—expensive but somehow making her look like a doll on display—was dirty at the knees where she'd been forced to kneel. The sight of those stains made something primal and protective surge through me.

"Let's go," I said to her softly, offering my hand.

She hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. I couldn't blame her for not trusting me—a virtual stranger who'd swept into her life during her most desperate moment. But the alternative was staying here, at the mercy of a father who saw her as nothing more than currency.

As she reached for my hand, Richard lunged forward, grabbing her arm with such force that she cried out in pain. The sound of her distress ignited something dangerous inside me.

"She's not going anywhere!" Richard growled, yanking Amanda toward him. "You think you can just walk in here and take what's mine? I've already promised her to Harold Wilson!"

"Take your hands off my wife," I warned, my voice dropping to a register I rarely used outside of boardroom confrontations. "Now."

Richard's grip tightened, and Amanda whimpered. I could see his fingers digging into her skin, leaving white marks that would surely bruise. Without thinking, I stepped forward and forcefully removed his hand from her arm, placing myself between them once more.

"Touch her again," I said, "and you'll regret it."

Something in my tone must have penetrated his rage because he took a small step back, though his eyes remained venomous. From the doorway, I could see Elizabeth and Madison watching, their expressions a disturbing mix of fascination and satisfaction at Amanda's suffering.

"You're making a big mistake," Richard hissed. "That girl has been nothing but trouble since the day she was born. Just like her mother."

Amanda flinched at the mention of her mother, and I felt a surge of curiosity about the woman who had given birth to her, but now wasn't the time for those questions.

"The only mistake here," I replied coldly, "is how you've treated your daughter. That ends today."

I turned to Amanda, keeping my voice gentle. "Is there anything you need from inside?"

She shook her head, her eyes downcast. "Just my grandfather's medical records. I need to transfer his care."

Richard's face contorted with cruel triumph. "You think you can afford his care? The treatments alone cost thousands per month. Go ahead and take her, but know this—her grandfather's life depends on my money. Without it, he dies."

I saw Amanda's shoulders slump in defeat, her momentary courage crumbling under the weight of this impossible choice. The manipulation was so transparent, so callous, that it took all my self-control not to show Richard exactly what happens when someone threatens what's mine.

"His care will be covered," I stated firmly, though I had no idea yet how I would arrange it. "All of it."

Richard scoffed. "Playing hero? With what? Your modeling money?" He looked me up and down with disdain. "You'll be bankrupt within a month."

I smiled then, the kind of smile that had made business rivals back down for years. "You'd be surprised what I can afford, Mr. Davis."

Taking Amanda's hand, I led her toward my car, feeling her trembling fingers in mine. As I opened the passenger door for her, I caught sight of her face—pale, tear-streaked, but with a flicker of something like hope in her eyes.

Once we were both in the car, I started the engine, the powerful purr filling the silence between us. In my rearview mirror, I could see Richard watching, his expression darkening as I pulled away from the curb.

Amanda sat next to me, quiet and looking broken, her hands twisted together in her lap. The bruises forming where her father had grabbed her made me so angry I couldn't even speak. This wasn't just about our deal anymore—seeing her treated that way stirred up feelings I never expected to have.

"I'll get your grandfather transferred to the best facility in the city," I promised, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "He'll have the best care possible."

She turned to look at me, suspicion and gratitude warring in her gaze. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't even know me."

It was a fair question—one I wasn't entirely sure how to answer. The plan had been simple: marry her, gain access to Davis Group's research division through her family connections, then walk away when I had what I needed.

Watching her kneel in the dirt as her father's cruelty played out changed everything between us.

"You're my wife," I said simply, because it was easier than dealing with all the complicated feelings that got us here. "For now, that's all that matters."

Amanda turned to look out the window, her profile etched with exhaustion. "Ethan, I only have you now," she whispered, her eyes wide and vulnerable.