All Chapters of Claiming Emery : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Killian’s POVEmery rested against the wall of my office wall. The silence between us stretched like a wound that refused to heal. Her breath was shallow and she had put distance between us. I didn't know how long we stood there silent staring at each other like we could communicate with our eyes. She had placed a distance between us like she could run away from me. I hadn't chased her, I didn't call her, I didn't ask after her from her sister. I had waited for her. Patience wasn't my best suit but still, I waited. I knew she didn't want to be chased.I knew that she wanted to be left alone. And here she was staring at me in my office. I could go to her but I didn't. Not yet Despite the distance she had put between us, the only thing that was serving as an obstacle was my oak office desk.After the incident that happened— the media came to the penthouse and questioned us which led to Emery's out bust. I thought I had lost her, that she would come, that I wouldn't see her again. I

Emery’s POVThe day started in silence, yet it was a silence that held promises of chaos. I could sense the tension across Killian’s shoulders as we dressed in the dim light. I saw it; it was there in the way he refused to meet my gaze—he wasn't trying to act cold or distant, but because his mind was already elsewhere. Planning. Strategizing. Bracing himself. Occasionally, he would frown, his brows or forehead would deepen, and sometimes he would exalt loudly like he had gotten to a dead end.“You don’t have to come,” he said, adjusting his cufflinks, his tight tone carrying a hint of tension.“Yes, I do.”He turned to face me, his eyes dark and his expression flat and unreadable. "It won’t be clean."“Are we any different? Neither is anything about us.”That brought a light smile to his lips. It held something warm. But it disappeared just as quickly as it cameThe confrontation was held in the boardroom, and it was masked as a negotiation between two companies, yet nothing about th

Killian's POVShe walked into the ballroom as if she owned the place—shoulders back, chin held high, glowing in a wine-red gown that showcased her every curve. But it wasn’t just the dress. It was her presence. That fierce, unapologetically beautiful of hers, that was completely out of my reach for the first time since the game began.And then he touched her arm.Laughter. Soft. Effortless. Hers.Something important for the first time twisted in my chest. The polished glass of my tumbler creaked in my grip as I watched him lean in. Too close. Too familiar. His hand lingered on her elbow as if he had the right to it.He didn’t.But neither did I—not anymore.The suitor—Julian Crest, he was the son of a media tycoon and he was the newest investor darling— he smirked in my direction as if he already knew where exactly to stab the knife. Emery didn't notice it. She didn’t have to be known. The damage had already been inflicted.She was smiling for him. Not for me.When our gazes finally m

Emery's POVThe room was colder than it should have been for a sunny afternoon in May, but maybe it was just me—standing there silently while Killian adjusted his cufflinks as if nothing had happened the night before. As if he hadn’t shattered whatever delicate bond we had shared with the sharpness of his words and the sting of his possessiveness.I still wore the emotional bruises from that fight—not physical, but deeply felt. I could feel them within my ribs, echoing like phantom pain.And today, we had a role to fulfill. And Killian Wolfe was a master of performance.“Fix your smile,” he said under his breath, not even sparing me a glance.At that moment, I hated him a little. I hated how he could shift from desperate and broken to cold and calculated in a mere span of hours.“Why are we even doing this?” I asked, I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.He finally locked his gaze with me, and something shifted in his gaze. “Because perception is everything, and they are watching.”

Emery’s POVI stared at the sleek black envelope that sat quietly on the table. At first glance I had thought it was an invitation to one of those elite events but I had to consider the drama that was happening in my life and I knew. It wasn't an invitation. It had been an invitation. But not one of those fancy invites that had calm music, champagne or even dancing. When I opened the envelope I was right. It wasn't a fancy invitation but rather it was an invitation to dig deeper into the lane that led directly to the very core of the cruel and brutal world I had grown and lived in.Its appearance had drowned and distinguished any and every fire that had begun to ignite in my life.It was a rainy evening. Droplets of rain scattered across the windowpane and the rooftop like drum beats threatening to crack open my rooftop just as my bleeding heart threatened to break free from its cage rib. The rain, they felt my aching heart and troubled mind and I felt theirs. Each tap added its ow