Chapter 15: Echoes of Distance

Emery’s POV

Killian hadn’t returned home that night.

Nor the night that followed.

That night, the bed felt too big without him. The silence in the penthouse was the kind that crept into your skin, making it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t left a note, didn't even send a text. He disappeared into thin air and dark where he always seemed to live in

And me?

I was still here—drifting between rage and heartbeat, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t waiting. That I wasn’t glancing at the clock or the front door. That I wasn’t dying a little more each time the door remained shut.

The voicemail played over and over again in my head.

"…someone else was looking into your past…"

What did he mean? Who else knew? Who else was looking?

But Killian wasn’t here to explain.

And maybe that was his answer.

Maybe I had been a pawn all along—something to be moved, sacrificed, used. Not a partner. Not a woman to be protected like she mattered, but a liability in someone else’s game.

His game.

I stood by the window, arms wrapped tightly around myself, staring at the skyline. Even the lights looked colder. Everything did. My reflection in the glass looked back at me—worn, uncertain, alone.

I was slipping again.

Slipping into that version of myself I have vowed never to become again—the woman who waited, who hoped, who gave and gave until there was nothing left to offer

And he was making it way too easy.

Suddenly, the air shifted behind me. A presence. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Killian.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there. Watching. Breathing. As if even the act of speaking would destroy something already broken between us.

But still, I turned.

His tie was missing. His jacket too. He looked tired and drained. But the steel in his eyes still remains—the kind that didn’t bend even under pressure.

“Where were you?” I asked, softly.

“I had to take care of something.” His voice was distant. Controlled.

“Did it have anything to do with me”

He blinked and that was all. No response.

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course not.”

He took a step closer. "Emery—"

"Please don’t." I raised my hand. "Don’t say my name as if it means something important to you. Not after you’ve spent the last two days acting like I don't exist."

"I wasn’t acting—"

"Oh really? Then what were you doing, Killian? Because from where I'm standing, you dragged me into this conflict and then abandoned me amid the chaos."

He flinched slightly. But just a little. But still, I noticed it.

"I had to put out a fire. With Maddox."

Your business rival?”

He didn't answer. Again.

I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge, I wanted to scream. "I can’t do this if you are going to keep shutting me out. If you only need me when it’s convenient for you. If I’m nothing but merely just a part of your plan when it benefits you."

He clenched his jaw. "You are not merely just a part of a plan."

"Then what am I?"

Silence.

I shook my head. "Exactly."

I brushed past him, I needed fresh air—I needed some space. He caught my wrist gently, not with force, but with something more unsettling. Like something delicate.

"Emery," he murmured softly. "Please don’t walk away."

I glanced at his hand. "I’m not. Not yet. But I might. Because if this is how it is going to be—if this silence, this distance, this endless second-guessing is all there is— then I deserve better."

His gaze searched mine. But he didn't say a word.

And in that quietness, I realized something deep down.

He didn’t know how to love me without controlling the pieces.

And I didn’t know how to stay unless I was free.

I packed a suitcase.

Not because I was leaving for good but because I needed to remember what it felt like when one chose their self. 

When I choose myself.

Killian didn’t try to stop me. He stood in the doorway—watching, unbothered, his expression unreadable—as I quietly folded my clothes. Maybe he thought I was just bluffing. Maybe he thought I would calm down and crawl back into his bed like I always did after our argument like always.

But this time, I was the one who walked away.

I left the engagement ring on the dresser.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love him. I did—oh, how I did. But love shouldn’t feel like being wrapped in silk sheets. And Killian Wolfe? He was a master at disguising chains as though they were gifts. Golden gift. 

Outside, the night air bit into my skin as I hailed for a cab. I told the driver my old address—the one-bedroom apartment I hadn’t visited since I first stepped into Killian's world.

When I stepped inside, dust greeted me like an old friend. The furniture was still there, covered in sheets. It carried the scent of the past—old but real. Honest. I dropped my bag and sat on the floor, surrounded by everything I had left behind in the name of comfort. An illusion.

I cry. Not because I regretted leaving. But because a part of me had begun to believe that I didn't know how to live without him.

But I did. I had to.

The next morning, I made coffee with a broken machine. The coffee burned my tongue, but still, I created a list.

My list:

Change the locks.

Update my resume.

Meet with my lawyer about the Sinclair account.

Find myself again.

That last one wasn’t as simple as checking a box. But writing it down made it feel real. 

By afternoon, I was already emailing old contacts from my pre-Killian career, reaching out to editors and media companies. Some responded quickly. Others did not. But I was no longer waiting for permission anymore.

That evening, I opened the closet and pulled out a worn-out box hidden behind my winter coats. Inside were newspaper clippings, notes, and photographs— everything I had gathered when Tobias cheated me when my world first shattered.

And right at the very bottom... a manila envelope that I hadn’t dared to open since day one. I was too afraid to face the truth.

Inside was a background file. On Killian Wolfe.

I hadn’t requested it but one of Tobias’s investigators had slipped it to me after our divorce. I hadn’t asked further questions. I hadn't wanted to learn more about the man who planted more fear in my ex-husband than a person ever could.

But now…

With trembling hands, I carefully opened it.

Photographs. Legal documents. A sealed immature record. Black-out government contracts.

And one handwritten note, hastily written in dark ink:

“She doesn’t know what he did in 2009. She should.”

I scanned the documents, with my racing heart.

Then I saw it—hidden beneath financial statements and foreign travel logs.

A single page labeled “CONFIDENTIAL.” And one name circled three times in red ink.

My father’s.

No.

A chill ran through my spine.

As I flipped through the pages, in a state of panic, I discovered a photo—it was blurry, yet unmistakable it was Killian and my father. They were together, and they looked much younger, standing outside a courthouse.

I let the file slip from my grasp.

The room began to spin.

What on earth had Killian been hiding?

What connection did my father have to do with the man I had nearly married?

The room was silent but it screamed louder than any answers.

And in that moment, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t merely just a pawn.

I was the prize in a war that had begun long before I ever crossed paths with Killian Wolfe.

I didn’t make the first call.

I didn’t knock on the door.

I just stormed back into his penthouse as if I hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours gasping for air without him.

Killian was in the living room, his sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, and a glass of whiskey in his hand—acting as if nothing had changed. As if I hadn’t walked out with a suitcase while leaving his ring behind.

His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unreadable. But then it narrowed, reading the storm on my face before I even uttered a word.

“You came back,” he said softly, placing the glass down.

I raised the file with my trembling hands. “You’re going to explain everything. Right now.”

His jaw tightened. “Where did you find that?”

“That doesn't matter.” My voice broke and I hated the way it did. “You lied to me.”

“I never—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted sharply. “Don’t claim you never lied. You have been hiding something since the day we met. I asked about your past. About why Tobias hated you. You fed me half-truths, Killian. But this—” I held the photo up, the one with him and my father. “This is a whole different level of betrayal.”

His silence was deafening.

“Why was my father involved?” I demanded, each word cutting like ice. “What happened in 2009?”

Killian moved closer, slowly, as if I were fragile. “Emery… please sit down.”

“I won't sit down. I won’t soften for you any longer. You wanted me raw? Here I am.”

His jaw muscle twitched. He exhaled sharply, turned, and walked to the window, his back facing me. “Your father and I were not strangers. He… he helped me cover something up. Something that would have destroyed me before I ever became the man I am.”

My breath hitched. “Cover what up?”

“I was seventeen,” Killian replied, his voice low as if he was confessing to a priest. “Tobias’s father had me framed for embezzling from a company where I interned. It was all a setup, part of a twisted game to force me into submissions. Your father was the attorney who buried the charges… under one condition: I vanish. 

My chest constricted. “Vanish? 

"They didn't want me near Tobias. They wanted me far away from the family. Your father did it to protect you. And I went along with it because I had nothing left remaining. But I never forgot who gave me that escape. Or the reason behind it."

"So everything since then..." I murmured. "Was I merely a pawn in your quest for revenge?"

"No." He faced me, his eyes burning with something that shattered my defenses. "You were the part I didn't see coming. I hadn’t planned for this. For you. I came back seeking power, indeed. Seeking control. But you—" He stepped closer, his voice raw. "You made me want for something real."

"And still, you lied to me."

"No, I didn’t lie to you. I chose to be silent. I wanted to protect you from all of it."

"But I never asked for your protection, Killian," I replied, my voice trembling. "I asked the truth. Your truth"

There was a long silence and the only sound I could hear was the beating of his heart, his steady breathing

Then I whispered, "Was this ever real? Was I ever real? Or was I merely just a piece of unfinished business between you and my father?"

His expression faltered. 

"No." He said just one word with intensity and desperation. "You are the only real thing in my world that is filled with darkness."

I looked at him—this man whom I had loved, feared, and could no longer believe in.

And I finally understood something cruel.

Love and trust are not the same in nature.

"I need time," I said, stepping back. "I need to know if I can still forgive you. If I can ever trust you again."

His voice broke as he pleaded, "Emery, please..."

But this time, I walked away before I could fall into him once more.

Because love wasn't supposed to feel like suffocation.

And at this moment, I needed air.