Chapter five

DAMIAN

The sun had only just begun to rise, casting a soft glow over the city when the call came. I was already awake, sitting in my study with a cup of untouched coffee cooling on the mahogany desk. My eyes were bloodshot, I had not been able to sleep properly. Since Emmah had left, the house felt colder and emptier. Every time I turned to a corner, I expected to see her there, her fiery eyes, her silence louder than screams.

But now, the call that shattered the morning silence had come from one of the housekeepers, her voice trembling with fear.

“Sir... It’s Mr. Richards. He collapsed.”

I immediately dropped the mug, ceramic shattering on the floor, coffee staining the Persian rug beneath me. My chair screeched backward as I rushed out, my heart thundering in my chest.

Minutes later, the mansion was bustling with activity. Paramedics arrived, wheeling Grandpa Richards down the stairs after he had collapsed while trying to get down on his own. His face was pale, almost grey, his breath shallow.

I knelt beside him as they wheeled him into the ambulance, gripping his hand tightly.

“Grandpa... Stay with me please.”

With effort, the old man turned his head slightly, his eyes opening slowly. In a weak whisper, he said, “Bring back your wife.”

Then he closed his eyes again.

The private General Hospital’s emergency entrance flung open as the ambulance pulled in. Nurses rushed to stabilize him and take him straight into the ICU. I followed closely behind, my heart in his throat.

Tasha stood in a quiet corner, watching the drama unfold. Her arms were crossed, but her fingers fidgeted nervously. She had tried everything to insert herself into this family, into my life. But even in my pain and panic, she saw the truth that I was still thinking of Emmah.

“He asked for her,” Tasha muttered bitterly. “Not me. Always her.”

She hated how the mention of Emmah’s name could bring such life and urgency into my eyes.

Meanwhile, I was already making calls. First to my personal assistant, then to the investigator I had tasked to follow Emmah’s convoy days ago.

“I need a location,” I barked into the phone, pacing outside the ICU. “Where did they take her? Find her. Now.”

Within the hour, my phone rang. A video call.

“Sir, I tracked the convoy,” the investigator said. “They entered a high security estate in another state entirely. After cross checking the license plates and estate registry... It belongs to the Williamsons.”

I froze.

“Williamsons?”

“Yes, sir. The estate is labelled as “The Williamson Mansion.”

I blinked severally. That couldn’t be. Emmah was Carter. Emmah Carter... right?

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. I’m sending you the photo now.”

A second later, an image lit up my screen. The large gates of the mansion were lined with gold and guarded by uniformed guards. The nameplate at the centre read clearly, THE WILLIAMSON MANSION.

My whole world shifted. She had lied, or... someone had.

Without another word, I sent a message.

“Deliver this envelope. Make sure it gets to her. Personally.”

BACK AT THE WILLIAMSON MANSION;

The family was seated for breakfast in the grand dining room. The table was long, lined with gold cutlery, different dishes, and a fresh spread of fruit, pastries, and local delicacies. Laughter filled the space as Emmah sat between her brothers, finally starting to smile again.

Her brothers adored her. Liam, the eldest, kept refilling her glass with freshly squeezed juice while teasing her gently. Miles made her laugh with ridiculous impressions of their old butler. And Jake the youngest, insisted she try every single item on her plate.

Their father watched silently, a small smile tugging at his lips. For years he had searched for her, and now that she was home, he would never let her be hurt again.

A servant entered the room, holding a golden trimmed envelope.

“This just arrived at the front gate, Miss Emmah. Marked urgent.”

She took it with curiosity, her smile fading slightly. The moment she saw Damian’s handwriting, her breath caught.

She opened it slowly, unfolding the thick paper. It was a desperate note, handwritten. It read:

“Emmah, Grandpa Richards is in the ICU. He collapsed. He hasn’t eaten or taken his meds since you left. His last words were asking me to bring you back. Please... if there’s anything human left in me to beg you with, I beg now. Come back. Not for me. For him.”

Her fingers trembled. The sounds around her faded. She blinked rapidly, unable to speak.

Her father noticed the shift in her demeanour. “Emmah? What is it?”

She read the note again. Then looked up, tears brimming. “Grandpa... he collapsed. He’s in the ICU.”

Her brothers stood up instantly.

“We’re coming with you,” Liam said firmly.

“No way you’re going alone,” Miles added.

Their father frowned. “Is this the same family that hurt you? Why would you go back?”

“Because he’s the only one who ever showed me kindness in that house,” she said quietly. “I owe him that much.”

The Williamson convoy was a breath taking sight as it rolled into the hospital parking lot. Four black SUVs, polished to perfection, escorted by security. When the doors opened, Emmah stepped out in a flowing white designer dress with gold embroidery, her neck adorned with a cascade of diamonds, her fingers bearing heavy but tasteful rings.

Damian, who had been pacing outside the ICU, turned just as the convoy arrived. His eyes widened, and he stopped breathing for a moment.

She was different. Not just beautiful, she always was but radiant and powerful this time.

Tasha stood nearby, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. This wasn’t the receptionist girl she’d bullied in silence. This was someone else entirely.

“What the hell...” she whispered, her fists clenching.

Emmah walked toward the building, followed by her brothers like royal guards. Her chin was up and each step she took was deliberate. She didn’t even glance at Damian until she stood in front of him.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“He’s awake now. He asked for you.”

Damian reached out instinctively, wanting to touch her arm, to show her gratitude, something, but Liam stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“You don’t get to touch her,” Liam said coldly.

Damian nodded slowly, stepping back.

Together, Emmah and her brothers walked through the halls until she reached the door of Grandpa Richards’ private ICU room. The nurse opened the door, and she stepped in.

The room was dimly lit, machines softly beeping. The old man lay in the bed, looking frailer than she had ever seen him. But when he saw her, his face lit up.

“Emmah...”

She walked to his side and took his hand gently.

“I’m here, Grandpa.”

Tears slid down his cheeks.

“I thought I’d never see you again. They told me you were gone...”

“I’m fine, Grandpa. I just needed space,” she said.

He gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t ever let people like us decide your worth. You’re more than any name, any title. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”

She smiled through tears, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Rest now. I’m here.”

Outside the room, Damian sat alone on the bench, his head in his hands.

He’d lost her.

Not just physically. She was someone else’s now, someone stronger, richer, untouchable.

And all he could do was watch her walk away.

But the sight of her at Grandpa’s side, caring and gentle, broke something in him further.

He wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back and worse still... he wasn’t sure if he deserved to.