Chapter 5: Where she went

Snow whipped across the windshield as the car sped down a remote mountain road, pine trees blurring past like dark sentinels. Emily gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white, her breath fogging up the inside of the glass. The headlights cut through the falling flakes, giving everything a hazy, ghost-like shimmer.

She had been driving for hours, her body aching from tension, but her mind sharp buzzing with the satisfaction of escape.

At last, she turned onto an unmarked gravel path, barely wide enough for the car. The tires crunched over the frozen dirt, the sound muffled by thick snow. At the end of the path stood a large vacation home weathered but intact nestled deep in the forest, cloaked in silence.

She killed the engine, stepped out, and let the quiet wrap around her like a second skin. The wind stung her cheeks, turned her skin pink, her hair whipping around her face.

But still she smiled.

It wasn’t just the cold biting into her skin. It was the clarity of isolation. The raw, unfiltered wilderness. The simple, breathless moment where no one could reach her.

She felt peace.

She felt freedom.

She felt like herself again.

Emily shut the door and took a long, deliberate breath. The air here tasted different pure, untouched by city fumes or emotional rot. Untouched by George.

She couldn’t help the grin stretching her lips. Once again, she had done it. Twisted the strings around her fingers. Manipulated George with surgical precision, making him believe he had a say when in truth, he never did.

No phone signal.

No neighbors.

No traceable path.

Exactly as planned.

George wouldn’t just let her go. That much she knew. He’d call. He’d search. He’d panic. He always did.

And that’s exactly what she wanted.

George practically worshiped her but it wasn’t enough anymore. She wanted more than his guilt, more than his devotion. She wanted his suffering. She wanted him to feel the same helplessness she felt the day they lost their child.

The frustration.

The depression.

The trauma that soaked into her bones.

His family had treated her like filth, like a defective machine that had failed its function. And George—George had stood there and done nothing. No outrage. No defense. Just silence and cowardice.

Now, it was his turn to break.

She climbed the steps and unlocked the front door, stepping into the cabin’s warmth. It was dimly lit by soft amber light and the glow of the fire crackling in the hearth.

And as arranged her contracted husband was already inside.

Naked. Seated. Waiting.

He sat on the edge of a leather couch, legs slightly apart, his hands resting loosely on his thighs. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his body, casting his face in shadow and gold. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak.

He was younger than George. Stronger. Sharper. More alert.

And most importantly he came without baggage.

He didn’t remind her of what she had lost.

He didn’t question her motives.

He was hers.

By contract.

By desire.

By choice.

Emily closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, drinking him in. She let her bag fall with a soft thud to the floor.

Then she walked toward him slowly, her eyes locked to his. Her boots padded silently on the wooden floor. She shrugged off her coat with fluid grace, letting it slide from her shoulders and drop in a heap beside the couch.

Her breath hitched as the warmth of the cabin enveloped her. But it wasn’t the heat that made her skin prickle.

It was control.

Her gaze dragged over him his broad chest, the way his jaw tightened under her scrutiny. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t move. It made her feel powerful.

She stopped just in front of him, her bare feet nearly brushing his knees. She ran a hand through her wind-blown hair, pushing it back, exposing the curve of her neck.

“You’re early,” she said, her voice low and smooth.

“I came when you called,” he replied, his tone calm, respectful but with a thread of heat running through it.

Emily smiled again. This one slower. More dangerous.

She knelt in front of him, one hand sliding along his thigh, the other resting flat against his chest. His heart beat beneath her palm fast, nervous, excited. Her touch moved up his torso, fingers tracing the dip of his collarbone, the line of his throat.

“Good,” she whispered. “I like obedience.”

She leaned forward and kissed him slow and deep, her lips tasting of snow and smoke. He didn’t hesitate. His arms moved around her as she climbed into his lap, straddling him, letting her body mold to his.

Here, there were no expectations. No mourning. No blame.

Here, she could become someone else entirely.

She tilted her hips and let her lips trail across his jaw, to his neck, her breath hot against his skin.

Every move was calculated.

Every sigh drawn with purpose.

She guided his hands, placed them on her waist, moved them lower. When he hesitated, she pressed her lips to his ear and whispered, “You don’t have to think here. Just feel.”

And he did.

She arched against him, her body burning through the thin fabric that still separated them. He moaned softly, and it thrilled her the sound, the surrender, the simple proof that she was in control.

Not just of him.

Of everything.

She wasn’t trying to forget George.

She was reclaiming herself.

The version of Emily that didn’t break.

The version that chose desire over duty.

Power over pain.

As their bodies moved in rhythm, she closed her eyes and felt it not love, not even lust. Something more precise. More calculated. Like vengeance wearing silk.

And when it was over, she lay beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, breath steadying.

He kissed her temple.

But she didn’t return the affection.

She was already drifting away, her mind sliding back into the plan, into memory, into everything still unfinished.

Emily didn't have any intention of allowing all this arranged shit yelid any personal feelings or attachment just as it was written down in the contract that she signed.

“What's the name?" She asked nonchalantly.

" Nolan Pierce…" his deep cold voice replied.

Emily only nodded her head, she stood up still naked but she didn't mind and left to take a shower.

“Contact your Agency to prepare for the wedding" Emily said as her voice sounded a bit distant.