로그인Emily’s POV I pushed open the glass doors of the restaurant, breathless and still slightly trembling from the confrontation with Will outside my building. My heart was still racing, my cheeks hot, and every step felt heavier than it should. I scanned the dimly lit room until I spotted Kael waving from a large booth toward the back. Several familiar faces from the hockey team sat with him—Peter, and a couple of others I’d known since Alex first brought me around the team. They all turned to look as I approached, their expressions shifting from greeting to concern as they took in my hurried, disheveled state. “Hey,” I said, sliding into the empty seat beside Kael and offering what I hoped looked like a calm smile. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The bus got held up in traffic, and then… something came up right as I was leaving.” “It’s perfectly fine, Em. Take a breath, sit down,” Kael said gently, pushing a glass of water toward me. “We’re all here. Take your time.” “It really has been
Emily’s POV I sat at the small worktable in my apartment, staring blankly at the canvas propped on my easel, my brush hovering motionless in mid‑air. It had been like this all afternoon—my eyes traced the lines and shapes I’d begun days ago, but my mind was miles away, circling endlessly around the same questions. Paint hockey players. Make them your subject. That is what I require. Will’s words echoed in my head, cold and commanding, refusing to be silenced. Why? That was the question that haunted me most. Why hockey players, of all things? What possible connection could a group of athletes have to my art, to our partnership, to anything he claimed to care about? Was he trying to use my paintings to promote them? To tie my name permanently to his world? Or was there something far darker hidden beneath his demand—something he deliberately hadn’t said, something he was keeping locked away where I would never find it until it was too late? A dull ache throbbed behind my eye
Emily’s POV Nausea rose in slow, relentless waves that I could barely keep down, rolling through me hour after hour, accompanied by a dizziness that blurred the edges of every canvas I looked at, every face I passed on the street. I’d caught sight of my reflection in the studio mirror earlier and barely recognized the woman staring back—pale skin stretched tight across sharp cheekbones, dark bruised circles under my eyes, a weariness that seemed to settle deep in my bones no matter how long I sat still. The doctor had warned me clearly enough during my last check‑up: Rest. Keep your stress low. Eat regularly. You need to take care of yourself, for more reasons than you know. But how could I rest? How could I slow down when every minute felt like it was slipping through my fingers like sand? I’d just finished three sample paintings for the contest, my hands trembling by the time I set down the final brushstroke, my vision swimming so badly I’d had to lean against the easel just to
Emily’s POVThe afternoon sun slanted through the tall gallery windows, gilding the edges of every frame and casting long, soft shadows across the polished floor. I stood near the main entrance, speaking quietly with a visitor who lingered in front of my newest canvas, explaining the layers of color and the quiet emotion I’d tried to capture in every brushstroke. The conversation was calm, pleasant, the kind of exchange that made all the long hours alone in the studio feel worthwhile. Until I felt that familiar, unwelcome presence step up beside me.“I don’t think the gallery seems as busy as it usually does,” Will said, his voice carrying clearly, cutting through our quiet conversation. “Maybe they’re looking for something different. Something that catches their eye more.”The visitor glanced quickly between us, their polite smile faltering. They shifted uncomfortably, nodded a hurried goodbye, and walked straight toward the exit without another word. I watched them leave, frus
Emily’s POV My phone buzzed softly against the edge of my easel, and I set my brush down carefully before answering, already knowing who it was. Kara had promised to keep digging for any trace of Alex, and every call from her felt like holding my breath until she spoke. “Hey, Em. How are you holding up?” Her voice came through quiet and gentle, like she was afraid the answer might break me. “I’m… managing,” I said, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my tired eyes. “I have three paintings to finish as contest samples, so I’m trying to keep busy. It helps, a little. How about you? Any news?” There was a short pause before she replied, heavy with disappointment. “Nothing yet, I’m sorry. I asked everyone on the hockey team—all the people who’d know his habits, his usual spots. No one saw him after the day he left from Arena. Except Jonathan, but even Jonathan hasn’t been able to get hold of him since then. His number’s dead for everyone, not just you.” My chest tightened, but I for
Emily’s POV Does he know? That single question circled endlessly in my head, sharp and unrelenting, as I stood before my canvas in the quiet studio. My brush hovered mid‑air, forgotten, while my mind raced through every moment from the day before. I replayed Will’s visit to my hospital room over and over—every word he spoke, every look he gave, every pause that lasted just a little too long. He hadn’t said one thing about why I’d fainted. Not a single question about my health, not a hint of concern for anything beyond the gallery and our work together. The doctor wouldn’t tell him, I told myself firmly, pressing one hand lightly to my stomach through my loose shirt. Patient privacy rules are absolute. There was no reason for any staff member to mention something like that to a man who’d only introduced himself as my business partner. But then… Will knew everything else. He knew exactly when I searched his name online. He knew every threat I made against him. He
Emily’s POVI stared at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the girl looking back.The tight black dress Kara lent me hugged every curve, short enough to make me tug at the hem nervously. My eyes were still puffy from crying, but I’d managed to cover most of the redness with makeup. Lip glo
Emily’s POVMy laughter died the second I pushed open the café door.There he was, Lucas, my boyfriend of thirteen months with another girl on his lap, kissing her like he was starving.His hands gripped her waist exactly the way they used to grip mine. Her long chestnut hair spilled over his shoul
Emily’s POV Alex was carrying me through the pulsing club lights like I weighed nothing.One strong arm wrapped under my knees, the other supporting my back. My cheek pressed against his bare chest, still warm from where I’d collapsed into him moments ago. The bass vibrated through his body into m
Emily’s POVMy legs felt loose and heavy at the same time as I stumbled back toward the bar. The music pulsed louder in my ears, each beat slamming against my skull. Kara’s warning from moments ago still rang in my head, but I pushed it away. “Another one,” I told the bartender, slapping my hand







