ログインClaire started showing up at the manor three, sometimes four times a week. Always with some excuse……dropping off papers, needing Damien’s signature, checking on wedding details that didn’t exist.
Really, she came for Emma. They’d have coffee in the garden, away from Vivian’s cold stares. Emma enjoyed her company. Even before she married Damien, she didn’t have much friends. She had been too busy working to take care of her sick brother to make any. So having someone she could talk to and have fun with especially now that life had gotten harder was a blessing. Emma found herself looking forward to Claire’s visits. Claire would tell her stories about her dating life and childhood days. It was on one of those days that she revealed, that she and Damien were childhood friends. “Really?” “Yes! I was the gardener’s daughter but he didn’t care. We would play all day in the garden. We particularly liked hide and seek.” Emma tried to imagine the cold rude Damien playing hide and seek. Level: impossible. “He wasn’t always this bad. His mother’s death really changed him. But yes, it’s not an excuse for treating people like crap.” Emma smiled. Finding someone who understood her and kept her company felt like heaven. They’d sometimes even talk about Emma’s painting. She was very excited to show someone. “You are looking better these days. Been eating more now?” Claire observed. “You keep bringing food.” “Because you look like a strong wind could snap you in half.” Claire smiled. “But you’re looking better. Little bit of color in your cheeks.” Emma smiled back. “Thanks for… everything.” “You’d survive.“ Vivian passed by, a face full of scorn. “She hates that we’re friends,” Emma said. “Good. Fuck her.” Emma laughed heartily, the sound of her laughter surprising her, because she didn’t know she could laugh like this. ----- But Vivian and Margaret were getting worse. At dinner, Margaret “accidentally” knocked red wine across Emma’s lap. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Though that dress was hideous anyway.” Vivian started locking rooms Emma tried to enter. “Family only, dear. You understand.” The staff got bolder. One maid literally slammed a door in Emma’s face. Emma stopped going to dinner. She started eating only in her rooms. One night, just as she was about to sleep, someone barged into her room. Emma looked up, shocked. “Who’s there?” It was Margaret, standing there, fuming. “Where is it?” Emma sat up. “Where’s what?” “My bracelet. The diamond one. It’s missing. And you are the only one I suspect will take it.” “I didn’t take your….” “I didn’t take anything……” “Liar!” Margaret lunged at Emma, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her out of the bed. “Aaaah!” Emma screamed in pain. Margaret dragged her down the stairs, her grip not loosening from her hair. Emma felt as if her scalp was going to tear. “Let go! Let go of me!” She screamed. “You’re going to the parlor where we can search you properly. Little thief……” “What’s going on here?!” Damien’s deep voice echoed through the halls. He stood there in his nightwear, looking at them with anger. “This bitch stole my bracelet!” Margaret shouted, not letting go of Emma’s hair. “Let her go.” “Not until……” “Let. Her. Go. Now.” Something in his voice made Margaret release her. Emma staggered, hands going to her hair. Damien walked over to them; “You dragged her by her hair?” “She’s a thief……” “She’s my wife!” His voice boomed around the halls with undeniable authority “You don’t touch her. Ever. Do you understand me?” Vivian stepped forward. “Damien, be reasonable……” “Get out. Both of you. Now.” “This is my home……” “It’s MY house!” Damien roared. “Mine! And if any of you dare lay your hands on her again I won’t hesitate to throw you out on the streets.” A hush was heard in the hall. Everyone was surprised. His statement wasn’t only a warning for his family but for every single soul in the house. Vivian and Margaret exchanged looks. Then Vivian’s mouth curved into a cold smile. “You’ll regret choosing her over family.” They left. He turned to Emma. She was trembling, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Are you hurt?” His voice was different now. Softer. She shook her head but then started to cry even harder. She wailed, feeling all the pain from the past month at once. “Come here.” Damien reached for her. Emma moved back abruptly. “Don’t…don’t touch me.” “Emma……” “Don’t!” She screamed, “You…you let them torture me for weeks. You did nothing. Weeks! You said nothing, did nothing, and now you want to play hero?” You wanna suddenly show kindness now?” “I didn’t know it was this bad……” “You didn’t care! You were never here! You left me with them and they……” Her voice broke. “I’m here now.” “It’s too fucking late now!!” “Don’t shout at me!” He yelled back. Shit. He shouldn’t have said that. “Emma…. Please just calm down.” “After weeks of them destroying me! You want a medal?” Damien sighed. Then his eyes really looked at her. At how her nightgown hung loose. At the sharp angles of her collarbones. At the hollows under her eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “When did you get so thin?” “What?” “You’re… Emma, you’re…” He reached for her again. Emma took a step back. The room tilted. Went grey at the edges. “Emma?” Her legs gave out. Damien moved forward, catching her fast before she could hit the ground. “Emma!” He wrapped his arms around her fragile frame. She was running a fever and breathing heavily. “Emma? Emma!” His voice cracked with something like fear. “Henderson! Call a doctor! Emma, wake up. Emma!” But Emma did not respond. Her breathing had become shallow now. Her body getting even hotter. He trembled, the memory of his mother’s lifeless body floating into his mind on seeing Emma’s lifeless-like body. “Emma…Emma please wake up. Please, I’m sorry. Just wake up,” he whispered, cradling her to his chest. She didn’t.Emma opened the envelope slowly. Richard's handwriting was neat. Precise. The handwriting of someone who'd spent years controlling everything, including how he presented himself on paper. Dear Emma, I don't know if you'll ever read this. I don't know if you'll care. But I need to try. I am your biological father. You know that now. What you may not know is that I've known about you since before you married Damien. I had you investigated. I learned everything about you. Your struggles. Your strength. Your refusal to give up even when everything was working against you. And I was proud of you. That's the truth I need you to understand. I didn't orchestrate Margaret's attack because I wanted to hurt you. I orchestrated it because I thought you were getting too close to discovering the truth about Katherine's death. I thought if I removed you from the picture, Damien would stop asking questions. I thought I could protect myself by eliminating the threat. I was completely w
Emma's eyes opened to white walls and the sound of machines beeping. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt. A nurse was checking her vitals. "Welcome back," the nurse said. "You've been asleep for three days." Three days. Emma tried to remember but couldn't. Just fragments. Pain. Blood. Damien's voice calling her name. "The bullet didn't hit anything vital," the nurse continued. "You're going to recover." Emma tried to sit up but her body wouldn't cooperate. "Don't move," the nurse said. "You need rest." Over the next week, police came and took her statement. Lawyers came with documents. Damien never left her side. Margaret confessed to everything. Richard had been orchestrating it from prison, paying her to watch Emma, to report back, to make sure Emma stayed close to Damien. Richard knew Emma was his daughter. He'd known before the marriage. "He was using you," Damien said when he told her. "To help him get information. To help him rebuild his empire." Emma didn't
Margaret's voice on the phone had been calm but there was something underneath it. A threat wrapped in politeness. "Meet me at the manor," she'd said. "Alone. If you bring Damien, I won't talk." Emma had argued but Margaret hung up. Now Emma stood outside Cross Manor in the darkness, understanding that she was about to walk into something dangerous. Damien was supposed to be meeting her there in an hour. They'd agreed he would stay back and let Emma talk to Margaret first, then move in if things got bad. Emma had a panic button on her phone. One press and Damien would come running. She didn't plan on needing it. The manor was exactly as she remembered. Cold stone. Expensive everything. The kind of place that had seen too many secrets. Margaret was waiting in the study. "Thank you for coming," Margaret said. She was sitting in a leather chair, looking like she owned the world. "What do you want?" Emma asked. "To tell you the truth," Margaret replied. "About your hus
The gallery was packed. Emma stood in the back watching people move through the space, looking at her paintings. Strangers. Collectors. Critics. People who'd read about the drama and came out of curiosity instead of genuine interest in her work. She wore a black dress. Simple. Nothing that would distract from the paintings. Tyler arrived early. He looked good. Healthier than he had in the hospital. He moved slowly, like his body was still recovering, but his eyes were clear. "These are incredible," he said when he saw her paintings. "Thanks," Emma replied. They didn't hug. They didn't pretend things were normal between them. They just stood there acknowledging that something had shifted and they were both trying to navigate it. "I'm sorry," Tyler said. "I know I've said it a thousand times but I need you to know that I mean it." "I know you do," Emma said. "Does that mean you forgive me?" Tyler asked. Emma thought about it. About the lies. About the money. About
Emma locked her apartment door and didn't leave for three days. She didn't answer Damien's calls. She didn't check on Tyler. She sat in her living room and stared at the walls, trying to understand how everything had gotten so broken. Around noon on the third day, there was a knock on her door. "Emma, I know you're in there," Damien said through the door. "Please let me in." She stood on the other side of the door, her hand on the lock, unable to move. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me," Damien continued. Emma opened the door. Damien looked worse than she felt. He hadn't shaved. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His eyes were red. "Come back home," he said. "I can't," Emma replied. "Why not?" "Because I need to think," Emma said. "Because I need to figure out who I am without all of this." Damien moved into the apartment and closed the door behind him. "I understand you're scared," he said. "I'm scared too." "You don't understand," Emma
Emma stayed at the hospital through the night. Damien sat beside her while Tyler slept, his breathing steady but shallow. The machines beeped around them, monitoring every heartbeat, every breath, keeping Tyler tethered to life. Around three in the morning, Emma went to get coffee. The hospital cafeteria was empty except for a nurse restocking shelves. She bought two cups of black coffee and sat alone at a table, staring at nothing. Damien found her there twenty minutes later. "He's asking for you," Damien said. Emma followed him back to Tyler's room. Her brother was awake, staring at the ceiling. "The doctors said I'm lucky," Tyler said when Emma entered. "Another thirty minutes and I wouldn't have made it." Emma didn't respond. She pulled the chair close and sat down. "I don't feel lucky," Tyler continued. "I feel like I failed even at that." "Don't say that," Emma said. "Why not?" Tyler asked. "It's true. I lied to you. I stole from you. I gambled away money t







