Mag-log inDear readers ❤️ Was Rowan’s apology enough… or are some lines impossible to uncross? What would you have done if you were Emma? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Blackwood Mansion stood in complete silence. The wrought-iron gates opened without a sound, allowing Rowan’s car to glide through. Stephanie stared out the window. The mansion had always looked impressive in photographs. In person… It was something else entirely. Stone walls rose beneath the evening sky. Warm lights glowed through towering windows. Perfectly trimmed gardens stretched across the grounds, interrupted only by ancient oak trees swaying gently in the breeze. It looked less like a home… And more like a private estate hidden away from the rest of the world. The car rolled to a stop beneath the grand entrance. Before anyone could reach for the doors, two members of the household staff stepped forward. One opened Rowan’s door. Another greeted Emma with a
The living room fell into complete silence. No one spoke. Emma couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny black object resting among the broken pieces of the vase. It looked… Ordinary. Too ordinary. Something so small shouldn’t have been capable of making her home suddenly feel unfamiliar. Stephanie stood beside her, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I almost threw it away,” she admitted quietly. “I thought it was just another piece of the vase.” Emma didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind refused to process what she was looking at. A listening device. Someone had planted it. In her house. Without realizing it… Everything else faded into the background. Laura’s interview. The accusations. The headlines. For the first time since leaving Rowan’s mansion… Emma wasn’t thinking about any of it. There was room in her mind for only one question. Who had been inside her home? Rowan broke the silence. “I’m calling security.” His voice was steady. Unhurried. He took out
The study fell silent once more. Emma quietly closed the door behind her. Rowan’s final words lingered in her mind. She has no idea… what she just started. He was probably talking about lawyers. The media. Another public statement. Whatever came next… Rowan would handle it. He always did. Emma let out a quiet breath and walked toward the living room. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the room in a warm glow. Everything felt… ordinary. Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Stephanie. A smile tugged at her lips. She answered immediately. “Hey, Steph.” There was no reply. Only breathing. Uneven.
The study fell quiet once more. Emma disappeared toward the kitchen. Rowan remained where he was, his hand still resting on the edge of the desk. His phone vibrated. Then again. And again. He frowned. The screen lit up. 184 unread messages. 37 missed calls. His brows drew together. He’d only been away for two days. Not long enough for this. His thumb moved down the screen. Board members. Executives. Investors. Then— Mr. Warner 23 Missed Calls Before Rowan could return the call, the phone rang again. He answered. “Warner.” “Sir..” “What happened?” A brief pause. “I think you should watch it yourself.”
The morning sun spilled through the tall windows, warming the quiet dining room. For the first time in days… The mansion didn’t feel like a hospital. The tray of medicines was gone. The thermometer had disappeared from the coffee table. Even the house staff moved about with their usual rhythm instead of whispering outside Rowan’s bedroom. Emma walked in carrying two mugs. She set one in front of Rowan without saying a word. Black coffee. No sugar. He looked at it, then at her. “You remembered.” “I have a decent memory.” “You remembered the coffee.” Emma took the seat across from him. “You’ve had the same breakfast ever since I’ve known you.” A faint crease appeared between his brows. “I didn’t realize I was that predictable.”
The NICU corridor was unusually crowded. Not with doctors. Not with nurses. With security. Two uniformed officers stood outside the double doors while another spoke quietly into a radio. Dominic Sterling stepped out of the neonatal intensive care unit, sanitizing his hands out of habit. “Mr. Sterling.” The hospital’s head of security approached immediately. “We’ve secured every entrance to this floor.” Dominic frowned. “What happened?” “The media has learned about today’s press briefing.” His expression darkened. “They’re gathering outside the hospital.” “They’re hoping someone catches a glimpse of baby Ethan.” The words had barely left the man’s mouth before Dominic answered. “No.” His voice was calm. Cold
Emma woke slowly. Warm. Comfortable. Safe. For several peaceful seconds, she couldn’t understand why. The mattress beneath her felt unusually firm. Something warm rested around her w
Morning arrived softly over Emma Laurent’s house. Sunlight filtered through the trees lining the backyard, spilling gold across the stone pathway leading into the garden. Fresh white roses bloomed along the fence while lavender swayed gently in the breeze. Tiny droplets still clung
Dominic didn’t leave immediately. For a moment after Brian stepped away, the silence stretched between them—tight, charged, unfinished. His gaze moved past Emma briefly, toward the street, as if confirming what he had already seen. Then back to her.
The question lingered in the room long after Emma asked it. “Do you love me?” It didn’t echo. It didn’t need to. It settled between them—quiet, heavy, impossible to ignore. Dominic stood still. For once, there







