CHAPTER 4

The next morning crept in without mercy. My eyes burned as if I hadn’t closed them all night, and maybe I really hadn’t. My head felt heavy, my body sore from lying twisted and restless on the couch. Everything inside me was raw. I had cried until there was nothing left, until my throat was hoarse and my chest ached in that hollow way that grief carves into you.

I have so many questions on my mind, so many regrets about the past few days. What if Caleb hadn't robbed his father's bank? Would he still be alive? I wish I had driven faster when we were taking him to the hospital; maybe we would've made it in time. I was drowning in guilt and pain, in an endless nightmare.

A sharp knock pulled me out of the haze. I dragged myself up, my body sluggish, every movement weighted. The mirror by the door caught me as I passed, and I barely recognized the woman staring back. Puffy eyes, blotchy skin, hair a mess. I looked sick and tired.

I opened the door, and there was Jen. My best friend. Her arms were already spread wide before I could say anything, and I let myself fall into her hug. The warmth of my best friend's hug brought all the agony I had been holding back.

“Emily,” she whispered against my hair, “I’m so sorry.”I nodded into her shoulder, not trusting my voice. When she pulled back, her eyes were full of the kind of concern only a friend who knows every corner of your life can carry.

“How are you holding up?” she asked softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She looked around the apartment, probably noticing the empty glass on the table, the blanket crumpled on the floor.

I tried to answer, but the words came out hoarse. 

“I don’t know. It feels like… like it’s not real. Like he’s going to walk in here and start making jokes. If a heartache could kill a person, I should also be dead.” Jen placed a hand on my arm, grounding me.

 “It’s okay not to know. Just let yourself feel it, don’t bottle it up. You come knock on my door even if it's midnight, I will help you through this.” Before I could reply, my phone rang from the table. 

The sound felt intrusive, cutting through the quiet like a blade. I hesitated before picking it up, my throat tightening when I saw the unsaved number. “This is Emily,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it.

“Miss Harper,” a deep male voice came through. “This is Richard Lane, Mr. Zelinsky’s attorney. I’d like to meet with you at your earliest convenience regarding his will.”For a moment, the room tilted. “His will?” I repeated, stunned. My hand gripped the phone tighter.

“Yes. It concerns matters he wanted to be addressed immediately. Could you come to my office this afternoon?” I swallowed hard, glancing at Jen, who was already watching me with worried eyes. “Yes,” I managed to say. “I’ll be there.” When the call ended, I just stood there, the phone still in my hand, my pulse racing.

Jen raised her brows. “What was that about?” I sank onto the couch, my body suddenly weak again. “His lawyer. He wants to see me about Mr. Zelinsky’s will.”

Jen blinked, then sat beside me, looking to be as confused as I am about this whole thing. “Emily… why would he mention you in his will?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, confused as I have ever been in my life.

Her brows drew together, thoughtful but also protective, like she was already bracing herself on my behalf. “Well, you’re not going through this alone. Do you want me to come with you?” I nodded too quickly, relief washing over me. 

“Yes. Please. I don’t think I can face this by myself.” Jen squeezed my hand. “I will come with you, I don't mind.”I pushed myself off the couch, my body stiff and sluggish from the long night. 

Moving felt like walking underwater. I went to my bedroom and stood there for a moment, staring at the closet as if I’d forgotten how to choose clothes. Finally, I pulled out a plain black dress. It felt respectful, and right now, it was the only thing that didn’t make me feel exposed.

As I got ready, brushing my hair back and tying it in a low knot, Jen sat quietly in the living room, waiting. She didn’t rush me, didn’t comment on how pale I looked. She just stayed, her steady presence something I didn’t realize I needed so badly.

When I was done, I slipped on my flats and grabbed my bag. My hands were trembling. “I don’t even know what to say to a lawyer,” I admitted.

Jen gave me a small smile, looping her arm through mine as we headed for the door. “You don’t need to say anything to him, just listen. Lawyers always have instructions and answers to everything, so don't worry.”

Outside, the sunlight felt too bright, too ordinary for how heavy everything inside me felt. We walked slowly to her car, the world carrying on as if nothing had happened, as if the night before hadn’t split my life open.

The drive to the office blurred by, my stomach tightening with every block we passed. By the time we pulled up to the tall glass building, my palms were clammy, my pulse racing.

I glanced at Jen before we stepped out. “What if it’s something bad? What if… what if he left me something I can’t handle?”

She squeezed my hand again. “Then we’ll handle it. One step at a time.”

Her words were steady, but mine tumbled out in a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Jen looked right at me. “I know.” She gave a small, firm nod. “That’s why I’m here.” Together, we walked toward the building, the looming weight of whatever waited inside pressing harder with each step.

"I will wait here." I nodded at Jen as the assistant led me to the office. I walked in, and Caleb was already seated, looking pale and tired. Mr. Lane adjusted his glasses and opened a thick leather folder. His expression was calm, practiced, the kind of look a man must wear when he delivers news like this often.

“Miss Harper,” he began, his voice steady, “thank you for coming on such short notice. I understand the circumstances are difficult, but Mr. Zelinsky was very clear in his final instructions.” He glanced briefly at Caleb, who sat rigid in the chair opposite me, his jaw clenched tight. Then the lawyer continued, reading directly from the document.

“According to the terms of Mr. Zelinsky’s will, his estate and corporate holdings are to be divided in the following manner. The Zelinsky companies are to be inherited jointly, in equal shares of fifty percent, by his son, Mr. Caleb Zelinsky, and you, Miss Emily Harper.”

I froze, the words sliding over me like ice water. “What?” I managed to whisper.

Mr. Lane didn’t pause. “However, this division is conditional. In order to qualify for joint ownership, the two of you must enter into a legal marriage. Should both parties agree, the companies will be split evenly, with equal authority and profit share.”

My eyes darted to Caleb, whose face remained unreadable, though the tension in his body was unmistakable. The lawyer cleared his throat softly before continuing. “If one of you refuses the marriage, the entire holding will pass solely to the party willing to proceed.  In other words, if Miss Harper declines, Mr. Zelinsky inherits all. If Mr. Zelinsky declines, Miss Harper inherits all.” I once again looked over to Caleb, waiting for him to say something after all, he is the rightful heir, but he just sat there, body rigid, avoiding my gaze.