Chapter Nine

Emmah’s POV

The air in the Richard mansion was as heavy as ever. I walked in that night with more silence than I left with, my heels echoing faintly against the marble tiles. No one asked me where I had been. No one dared. Grandpa was resting, Damian was in his study pretending to be busy, and Tasha... well, she had disappeared like smoke after a fire.

I headed straight to the bedroom, our bedroom but it didn’t feel like mine anymore. The scent of cologne and the faint sweetness of roses still hung in the air. Someone had placed a fresh bouquet in a glass vase by the window. I didn’t care to find out who.

I slipped out of my heels and walked barefoot to the window. Outside, the moonlight spilled over the manicured lawns like silver dust. I let my hand trail down to my belly. A small flutter beneath my skin. A heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

But I didn’t feel connected to it. Not anymore.

My father’s words echoed louder in my head than the baby’s silent presence. “I want you to meet someone. Someone worthy.”

And Declan... he wasn’t just worthy. He was respectful, calm, intuitive. He didn’t look at me like I was broken. He didn’t try to fix me either. He just listened.

But it wasn’t about Declan. Not really.

It was about me. The woman I was slowly becoming. The woman who no longer wanted to be anyone’s silent wife.

The sound of footsteps behind me pulled me from my thoughts. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Damian.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, probably unsure of what to say. Finally, he broke the silence.

“You weren’t here for dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” I said without turning.

“I had the kitchen prepare your favorite. Lemon pepper salmon.”

I turned, slowly. “Did you also ask them to garnish it with apologies?”

He flinched. “I deserved that.”

“Yes,” I said, folding my arms. “You deserve a lot more.”

Damian stepped forward. “I know I hurt you. I was selfish. Arrogant. I thought I could control everything. That you'd always be here because you had no choice.”

I didn’t interrupt. I wanted to hear the whole script.

“But you were never weak. You were just... quiet. And I mistook your silence for submission.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering.

“I’m sorry, Emmah. I want to do better. I want to be better. For you. For the baby.”

I looked at him then, really looked at him. The desperation in his eyes wasn’t fake. The regret was real. But it wasn’t enough.

“It’s too late,” I said softly. "We've had this conversation before."

“No. It’s not. I’ve already cut Tasha off. I told her to leave and never come back. You’re the one I want, Emmah. Not her.”

I didn’t flinch. “It was never about her. It was about you.”

Damian nodded slowly. “Then let me prove it.”

He reached for my hand, and this time, I didn’t pull away immediately. I let him hold it, let him believe for just a second that maybe we could start over.

Then he leaned in, slowly, his lips brushing the side of my neck. I froze.

The air shifted as his hands slid to my waist but I gently pulled away.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice steady.

His brow furrowed. “Emmah...”

“You can’t fix this with sex.”

He stepped back, frustrated, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to ‘fix’ it. I just... I miss you. I miss us.”

“There was never an us,” I whispered. “Just me pretending.”

Damian was silent then. His shoulders sagged. For the first time since our marriage began, he looked like he didn’t know what to do next.

“I’m getting rid of this baby tomorrow.” I said.

The words dropped like a grenade.

He stared at me, stunned. “What?”

“I’ve already made my decision.”

His voice cracked. “But... why?”

I shook my head. “Because I don’t want to tie myself to this... to you for the rest of my life. I want to be free.”

“But it’s not just about you anymore..."

“It’s exactly about me. About the fact that I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t choose this child. And I’m allowed to change my mind.”

His jaw clenched. “Does your father know?”

“No.”

“Declan?” His voice sharpened. “Did you tell him?”

I froze, not from guilt but from the fact that he guessed.

He stepped forward. “You met him, didn’t you?”

I didn’t reply.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Of course. The minute I step up, you’re already walking out the door.”

I lifted my chin. “I walked out months ago, Damian. You just never noticed.”

With that, I turned and walked toward the door.

“I’m leaving in the morning,” I said without looking back. “Not forever. Just for a few days.”

“Where?” he asked, his voice low.

“Somewhere I can breathe.”

And I meant it.

The next morning, as the sun rose over the city, I stepped outside and found a familiar convoy waiting for me. Sleek black vehicles. My father’s way of saying: “You are not alone.”

Liam stepped out of the car and opened the door.

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded.

As we pulled away, I didn’t look back at the mansion. At Damian. At the life I had tried so hard to make work.

Instead, I focused on the road ahead.

We reached the Williamson estate just past noon. The sun was high and the air warm, but I still felt cold.

My father greeted me at the front steps, hands behind his back, eyes observant.

“Come,” he said simply. “There’s someone I’d like you to see again.”

I followed him through the hallways until we reached the private lounge.

Declan was seated near the window, reading.

When he looked up and saw me, he smiled. Not the kind of smile Damian gave me in public that was forced and calculated  but something genuine. Something calm.

“Emmah,” he said, standing. “It’s good to see you again.”

I smiled back. “Thanks for inviting me.”

My father nodded. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

He exited quietly, leaving behind only a faint cologne trail.

Declan gestured for me to sit.

“I heard about what happened,” he said gently.

I didn’t ask from who.

“I’m sorry,” he added.

I shrugged. “I’m not. Not anymore.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Sometimes, the breaking is what frees us.”

I looked at him then, curious. “You’ve been broken too?”

“A few times,” he said with a small smirk. “But it made me careful with what I give my heart to.”

I leaned back on the chair. “I haven’t even figured out what my heart wants yet.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “There’s no rush. Just... don’t let someone else decide for you again.”

That hit harder than I expected.

We sat in silence for a moment, sipping tea that someone had brought in without us noticing.

When I finally stood, ready to leave, Declan walked me to the door.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said.

I paused, hand on the handle. “Thanks.”

As the car pulled away, I thought about his words.

Don’t let someone else decide for you again.

Back at the Richard mansion, I returned to the same silence I had left. Damian was nowhere in sight.

I didn’t care.

I climbed the stairs, the diamond bracelet from Grandpa still glittering on my wrist, a symbol of the person I used to be, and maybe, the one I was about to become.

But as I walked past the mirror in the hallway, I stopped and looked at my reflection.

For the first time, I didn’t see a wife.

Or a mother.

Or even a daughter.

I saw a woman who had been shattered...

And was now building herself again.