11

EMILY

The stage lights burned like a small sun above me, hot enough to make the air feel heavy in my throat. I squinted at the screen of my monitor, watching the dancers fall in and out of formation. My job usually calmed me, but today, the heat and noise pressed on my temples.

“Alright, take it from bar eight,” I called.

The music thumped back to life, and the dancers snapped into motion. My crew moved around me like a well-oiled machine. I barely noticed Nia until she tugged gently on my sleeve.

“Emily,” she whispered, a little too excited, “Mr. Blake needs you. Says it’s important.”

I raised a brow. “While we’re rolling?”

She nodded. “He insisted.”

That alone made my stomach tighten. Blake never interfered unless something big had happened.

“Joe, wrap this up for now. I’ll check the footage later,” I told the creative director and headed toward the hallway Nia had come from.

She kept pace beside me, fidgeting with the tablet in her hands.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Nia only smiled like she’d been sworn to secrecy. “He’ll tell you.”

I pushed open the office door. Blake looked up immediately, eyes bright, his whole face pulled into a grin I hadn’t seen in months.

“There she is,” he said, standing and coming around his desk. “Emily, you did it.”

My pulse skipped. “Did what?”

He held up his phone. “We won the Lockwood Corporations visual campaign.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Wait. They chose my concept?”

“They did. And you’re flying out in a few days to supervise the full production.” He squeezed my shoulder once, proud and warm. “Congratulations.”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could help it. “II don’t even know what to say.”

Only three years ago, I was sleeping in alleys, pregnant, lost, and terrified. I remembered Blake finding me that night after I pulled his daughter away from an open gutter. He didn’t owe me anything, but he gave me shelter… then a job… then a chance to use the talent I’d thrown away trying to survive. Now, I was one of the best videographers in the city.

“Where exactly am I flying to?” I asked, reaching for the project file.

“Norchester,” he said casually, already returning to his desk.

My breath stopped. The room tilted a little. “Norchester?”

“Yes. The expo is being hosted there this year. They want your team on-site.”

My mouth went dry. “I can’t go.”

Blake looked up, puzzled. “Why?”

“I just I can’t,” I said, voice barely steady. “Anywhere else, but not there."

He leaned forward, concern shadowing his expression. “Emily, this is the biggest contract we’ve ever landed. They requested you. If you don’t go, they’ll cancel.”

He wasn’t threatening me. He was stating the truth.

I lowered my eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

But the answer had already taken shape inside me.

That evening, when I got home, the weight of the decision sat on my chest. Returning to Norchester meant walking into the same city where I’d lost everything where my life had been ripped apart. My little boy, Eli, peeked at me from behind the couch, clutching his stuffed penguin.

“Mom?” he said softly.

I forced a smile and sat beside him. “Come here.”

He curled into my side, warm and small. His dark curls brushed my chin. “Why do you look sad?”

“I’m not sad. Just thinking,” I said. “How would you feel if we traveled for a while? Somewhere new.”

He hesitated. “Will you be there too?”

“Of course,” I whispered. “Always.”

Eli relaxed and nodded against my shoulder. “Then… I’ll go. I go where you go.”

My eyes stung. “Good boy.”

That night, after he fell asleep, I sat on the floor beside his bed and cried silently. He had no idea how hard the world had been before him. How close I’d come to giving up. How returning to Norchester felt like reopening a wound that had never healed. But I couldn’t let Blake down. I owed him too much.

Three days later, the private plane touched down on Norchester soil. Eli pressed his face to the window, wide-eyed.

“Is this your… old place?” he asked as we descended the stairs with our carry-ons.

“Yes,” I said, smoothing his hair. “I grew up here.”

We walked toward the airport entrance. Eli chattered about wanting a room with a balcony and maybe a tiny desk “for art stuff.” I played along, smiling where I could.

But as we approached the doors, a voice cut across the pavement sharp, familiar, terrifying in a way that made my skin crawl.

“Put the girls back in the truck. I’ll check which one suits him when I get there.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. No. Not that voice. Not here.

I stiffened, and Eli’s hand slipped into mine, sensing something wrong.

I turned slightly… and there he was.

Adrian.

Talking into his phone, walking fast, not even looking around until his gaze brushed across mine. For a half-second, he didn’t react.

Then his eyes widened, just barely. My breath stopped. Eli pressed closer to my leg.

That was all it took for my past to come roaring back the pain, the humiliation, the fear I’d buried so deep I thought it was gone.

Adrian.

The man who had shattered me piece by piece. The man who destroyed my name.

The man who left me bleeding in the dirt.

He was walking directly toward us.

And I could do nothing but stand there, frozen in the place I swore I would never step foot in again.