Todos os capítulos de Your Uncle, My True Love: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Emma was still standing frozen in front of the gown when two other staff members entered the storage room. Their expressions shifted the moment they saw the condition of the main piece of the collection. Silence fell—heavy and suffocating.“This… this can’t be possible,” one of them murmured. “We locked this room. No one was allowed in.”Emma slowly withdrew her hand, as if the fabric itself might wound her further. Her fingers were cold, her breaths shallow. She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to contain the panic threatening to burst.“How long until the photo shoot?” Emma finally asked, her voice hoarse but controlled.“This afternoon, Emma. The magazine editor has confirmed she’ll be coming in person,” the staff member replied hesitantly.Emma nodded faintly. In her mind, time spun at a dizzying speed. That gown was not just clothing—it was a symbol, a marker of her return to a world she had once nearly left behind entirely. And now someone was trying to destroy it, on th

The following morning arrived with a rush Emma hadn’t expected to come so quickly. Before the sun had even climbed high, her phone was already vibrating repeatedly on the bedside table. Emma moved carefully so as not to wake Ethan, who slept soundly in the small crib beside the bed. She reached for her phone and stared at a screen flooded with notifications—emails from editors, messages from old colleagues, interview requests, collaboration offers.The world had truly turned back toward her.Emma sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her face gently. Gratitude warmed her chest, but caution now grew alongside every success. She knew the spotlight always arrived hand in hand with shadows.In the kitchen, Ethan’s nanny was preparing his milk.“Good morning, Mrs. Emma,” she greeted softly. “Ethan slept peacefully all night.”Emma smiled faintly. “Thank you. I’m just… still finding it hard to believe everything.”She lifted Ethan into her arms and kissed his tiny forehead. He yawned, then

Emma stood by the window of her apartment, watching raindrops race down the glass. The city beyond looked blurred, as though the whole world were being viewed through unshed tears. Ethan was already asleep, his small, steady breaths the only sound that felt truly real in the room.Emma’s phone lay on the table, silent—too silent.It was that silence that made her uneasy.She knew this pattern. After the seed was planted, there would be a pause. The public would wait. The media would gather fragments. Then the story would be assembled into something larger. No blatant lies were needed. Doubt alone was enough.Emma closed the curtains and sat down on the sofa, opening her laptop. Her fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard. There was an old folder she hadn’t touched in years—design archives, contracts, emails from the time when she had still worked side by side with Harry. A period that once felt like a foundation, but now resembled fragile ground.She opened the files one by one,

That night did not bring sleep right away.Emma was still awake when the clock crept past midnight. The living room lights were dimmed, leaving only a faint glow from the kitchen. Ethan had finally fallen asleep in his crib, his breathing steady, his small chest rising and falling in calm rhythm—a stark contrast to the thoughts still circling in Emma’s mind.She opened the tablet resting on her lap, not to read comments or news. Instead, she accessed an old folder: sketches from collections she had once saved, some untouched for years. The lines were still alive. Sharp. Bold. A part of herself lingered there—a part she had buried along with the chaos.James watched her from the chair across the room. He didn’t ask anything. He knew that silence was the best form of support at that moment.“I used to think… maybe I was finished,” Emma said softly without looking up. “Not because I couldn’t go on. But because I was tired of having to justify every breath I took.”James nodded. “And now?

Morning arrived without ceremony. The sky was not fully bright yet, but the city was already in motion—as if the world did not care that certain truths would be shaken today. Emma stood in the kitchen, brewing coffee with mechanical movements. Her hands were steady, yet there was a faint tremor in her chest she could not quiet.James entered, rolling up his shirt sleeves.“The legal team is ready,” he said shortly. “We have two hours before the morning news cycle hits its peak.”Emma nodded. Ethan stirred in his crib, gave a small yawn, then whimpered softly. Emma lifted him into her arms and kissed his forehead longer than usual. There was something final in the gesture—not a farewell, but an anchoring.“I’ll be back before noon,” she whispered.The small conference room—inside a neutral building, neither a studio nor a law firm—had been chosen deliberately. Neutrality was the first message. James made sure every document was in order: the original contract, chronological email recor