LOGINEmily
The day passed in a haze of polite conversation, carefully curated activities, and subtle tension. I had spent the hours after breakfast wandering the Carter estate under Nathan’s mother’s guidance, helping in the garden, attending to small family errands, and sharing tea with Nathan’s parents. I tried to stay composed, engaging only when necessary, smiling politely, nodding in agreement, and responding in measured tones. Yet, every laugh or gesture felt dampened by a lingering awareness of what had happened the night before. Lunch was quiet, a meal filled with carefully selected topics: minor family events, distant relatives, and the occasional gentle tease about my engagement. Nathan was easy enough, keeping his tone distant yet polite. He seemed relieved to let the morning pass without the weight of pretense, giving me room to navigate my own thoughts. The afternoon dragged, slow but intentionally pleasant. Nathan’s mother insisted we spend some time in the drawing room, and I complied, hiding my tension beneath polite smiles as she recounted old family anecdotes and history. The jade bracelet I had refused earlier lay untouched in her hand, a silent reminder of yesterday’s events and the small victories I had claimed in maintaining control. By early evening, shadows had begun to stretch across the manicured lawns, and I felt the first stirrings of anticipation. The day had been long, and as much as I had enjoyed—or tolerated—the polite distractions, I longed for a moment of solitude. It was at that moment Adrian returned. The sound of the front doors opening caught my attention before I could fully process it. Nathan, sitting near the window, perked up instinctively, his polite demeanor stiffening. I turned just in time to see Adrian enter, immaculate in his tailored suit, hair perfectly in place, and that impossible air of control radiating around him. My stomach constricted in a mixture of anticipation and nerves. I had spent hours managing myself, keeping my mind occupied, and yet just seeing him made everything else fade into the background. Adrian’s gaze swept the room, pausing for a moment on me, and I felt my pulse accelerate. There was a faint curve of a smirk on his lips, just enough to suggest he knew exactly what he did to me, and the effect it had. “Emily,” he greeted, his voice calm but deliberate, smooth like silk sliding across steel. "Do you plan to stay the night again?" There was a glint in his eyes, he was teasing me. "No..no... Uhm... I should get going." I stammered. God Breathe, Emily. Breathe. A maid came down with my bags a moment later and I almost snatched it from her. "I'll drop you off," Nathan offered. "Don't worry," Adrian replied, taking my bags from me, " It's on my way, I'll take her home" Nathan’s expression shifted from polite concern to eager relief. “I… I suppose I’ll let you escort her, uncle,” he said quickly, attempting casual nonchalance. “Thanks.” Adrian inclined his head, a subtle acknowledgment, but his dark gaze didn’t leave me. Nathan stood, bowed slightly, and muttered his thanks again before leaving the room without another word. I watched him go, feeling a pang of something I couldn’t quite identify—relief, maybe, or frustration that Nathan didn’t have the same intensity Adrian did. I quickly focused back on Adrian. “let's go” he said, turning with effortless authority. I followed him, keeping pace, careful not to reveal the tumultuous mix of nerves and anticipation coiling in my stomach. Every movement he made, every step, was precise, measured, like a predator moving through familiar territory. When we reached his car, I hesitated briefly, aware of the intensity that always seemed to radiate from him. He opened the door for me, his presence lingering close, almost magnetic, as I stepped inside. The car started smoothly, the subtle hum of the engine filling the quiet space. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I kept my hands folded neatly in my lap, trying to maintain composure while my mind buzzed with awareness of Adrian’s presence beside me. Finally, I spoke, trying to suppress my anger and panic "Uncle?" “I missed you.” He replied I froze, surprised. “Missed me?” My voice came out quieter than intended, tinged with confusion. “It hasn’t even been—what—twenty-four hours? And what does that have to do with the situation, I just asked a question" He turned to glance at me, dark eyes intent, unwavering. “I don’t care about the hours. I missed you. Does being his Uncle mean I can't miss you?” "Being his Uncle, mean we can't be in bed together, I'd thought you're a friend on maybe a business partner of the Carter's at worst" I turned to him, folding my hands under my bossom, "But an 'Uncle'? That's family, and a whole generation of difference at that" "We can't be together" I concluded, My eyes on him. He simply watched me, amusement in his eyes before I could process, his lips met mine, slow and deliberate, pressing against mine with a confidence that left me breathless. I tried to resist, pushing against him, but that only deepened the kiss, his fingers brushing subtly against mine, holding, teasing, demanding at once. My pulse raced, heart pounding in my ears. The subtle weight of the seat beneath me, the closeness, the smell of him, all collided in a rush of tension I couldn’t ignore. "Are you ok?" He asked. I looked back at him in confusion. "Down there" he muttered, his eyes darting downwards, "Are you still...?" "We can't do it here" I whispered, my eyes darting towards his assistant in the driver's seat. "Don't worry, he won't hear us." "But... Still..." "So...are you better now?" I sighed, glaring at him. “I… I’m better,” I murmured after a moment. He smirked, a dangerous curve of his lips that made my chest ache. “Good. Then there’s no excuse.” I pressed my lips together, trying to steady my breath, trying to keep some semblance of composure. But his lips were on mine again, hungrier, faster, his hands tracing line of my body as his lips followed suit. when we finished, I was a mess, I straightened my hair as much as I could and smoothened the creases on my dress. Adrian's eyes were still on me, but I was too exhausted to care. The car continued to hum down the road and I rested my head against the seat, watching the vehicles moving and the city as I dozed off, my questions forgotten. I felt the car come to a halt, and I opened my eyes. I was home. My head was on Adrian's shoulder. I straightened, my neck a little stiff from the posture is slept in. "Thank you for the ride" I moved to open the door, but he dragged me back, placing a chaste kiss on my lips, "Goodnight." I blushed. "Good night" Maybe a secret relationship with my Fiancé's Uncle isn't that bad, as long as it remained a secret.I had to cut out a part of the chapter since it wouldn't publish otherwise. You might not notice. but if you do pls bear with me 🙏 Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot to me🥰
Emily The exhibition opened on a Friday evening in October, the gallery walls washed in light that made Hope's sculptures glow with an inner luminescence I hadn't expected. She'd chosen marble for this series, the same Carrara I'd worked with for decades, but her treatment was different—rougher, more aggressive, the figures emerging from stone with a violence that suggested struggle rather than revelation. I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by my daughter's work, and felt the strange displacement of seeing my own artistic DNA expressed in a voice entirely foreign to me. The maternal hands I'd sculpted twenty years ago, cradling invisible possibility, had become something else in Hope's hands—hands that gripped, that fought, that tore at the stone that imprisoned them. Her "Emergence" was not gentle. It was a battle. A birth that cost blood. "Mom." Hope appeared at my elbow, twenty-six and fierce and still, in her way, the child who had asked if Leonard killed Serena. She
Emily “Mom?” Hope’s voice held that careful hesitation she used when she wasn’t sure she was supposed to find something. “I was looking for winter coats in the storage room, and this was in a box behind the trunks.” I wiped my hands on my apron, something tightening in my chest before I even turned. The album rested in her hands—old leather, cracked spine, edges yellowed with time. I knew what it held before I touched it. I had put it there myself, years ago, part of the careful structure of forgetting I’d built my life around. “Come here.” She climbed onto the kitchen bench beside me, all long limbs and lingering softness, her hair still tangled from sleep. I opened the album. The first photograph showed Leonard Vale at his height—standing on the steps of the original Vale Corporation building, silver hair immaculate, smile precise and practiced. He looked powerful. He looked kind. He looked exactly like the man I had loved. “Who is that?” Hope traced the image lightly, the
Adrian Mr. Carter, I am writing to inform you of my formal retirement. My health no longer permits the duties I have performed, and I wish to spend my remaining years in peace. I have arranged my departure to minimize disruption to your household. Mrs. Carter need not know the details; I have told her I am returning to family, as we discussed years ago. I request one final meeting, at your convenience, to conclude our business. I will be at the coastal property in Portugal from the first of next month. You know the address. Lin Wei I read it twice, then fed it to the fire in my study. The paper curled in on itself, blackening, the words I had already memorized dissolving into ash. I stood there longer than necessary, stirring what remained with a poker. Emily found me like that. She paused in the doorway, took in the fire, the silence, and said nothing about what I had burned. She had learned, over the years, the borders of my quiet—where questions would land and where they woul
Emily Lily’s letter arrived on a quiet Saturday morning. It stood out the moment I saw it resting on the counter—thin, pale, and out of place among grocery receipts and Leo’s crayon drawings. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent me a letter. Everything came through screens now. Messages, emails, quick calls. Things you could delete with one tap if they became too much. I picked it up slowly, turning it over in my hands. My name sat on the front in neat, careful handwriting. Too careful. Like each letter had been written with hesitation. Leo sat on the kitchen floor nearby, completely absorbed in his world. Bright plastic blocks scattered around him in uneven piles. He hummed softly, stacking and restacking, his tiny fingers working with full focus, unaware of anything beyond his small creation. Hope had already left earlier that morning. She’d slipped out with her usual quiet energy, a quick kiss to Leo’s hair, a vague wave in my direction. The studio had been calli
Emily's POV We moved into a new estate three months ago. There was no need to, we just wanted somewhere more secluded and private. Hope had christened it "the house on the hill" in the simple declarative way of children, and the name had stuck. It was it's official name now. My studio was bigger. Adrian had insisted on installing proper heating, proper lighting, a small kitchenette where I could make tea without walking back to the main house. He'd done it quietly, without asking what I needed, simply observing my habits and anticipating them with the thoroughness that characterized everything he did. This morning, I was working alabaster. A small piece, intimate, a study of hands cradling something invisible—air, perhaps, or possibility. The stone was responding well, its grain smooth and cooperative, and I'd lost track of time in the way that still felt like stealing, like getting away with something I wasn't supposed to have. "Mom! Aunt Lila's here and she said she brought chao
Emily The beach was beautiful. Perfect. Everything an honeymoon needed to be. White sand stretching to horizons that dissolved into turquoise, then deeper blue, then the vast indifferent sky. The resort Adrian had chosen was small, private, hidden behind walls of flowering hibiscus and guarded by staff who appeared only when needed and vanished when they weren't. No photographers. No business calls. No interruptions from the world we'd deliberately left behind. Hope was with Madam Lin, who had insisted on accompanying us "just in case," her eyes avoiding Adrian's with the careful neutrality she'd perfected over five years. I'd almost argued, almost pointed out that a honeymoon should be uninterrupted, but Adrian had agreed before I could speak, and I'd understood—some part of him still didn't trust the peace we'd built, still needed backup plans and safety nets and the quiet assurance that our daughter was protected even in our absence. So we'd flown to the Maldives, to water so c
EmilyI didn’t hear from Adrian the entire next day.Not a message, not a call, not even one of those short, possessive little notes that usually had me reading and rereading them until my chest ached.He must still be angry.I wanted to call him so badly. I wanted to ask questions, explain myself,
AdrianShe wasn’t ready.I’d known that the moment the silence stretched on the line, heavy and uncomfortable, the moment she failed to give the answer I hadn’t explicitly asked for but had been waiting to hear anyway.She was engaged. I had known that from the start.Still, I’d taken her. Made her
Emily I picked up the call with my heart already racing. For a split second, I just listened to his breathing on the other end, steady and calm in a way that immediately put me on edge. My mind scrambled, questions colliding with one another, each demanding to be asked first. Don’t sound despera
Emily The moment I stepped back into the ballroom, my mask slid seamlessly into place. Soft smile. Relaxed posture. Eyes warm but distant. I greeted the ladies gathered near the center of the room, accepting their compliments with practiced grace, responding to polite inquiries about my studie







