Emily Rath Author Novels & Stories

She had no idea that this woman standing before her had anything to do with the young inmate, that she was, in fact, the very crux of the situation. However, she recognized her. She had seen her face on the back of several paperbacks, even the one that she owned. A book called Wolves at the Door, which she had picked up on impulse and quite enjoyed. Diamond had a way with words, and though her stories were strange, they never lost the coherency of narrative that kept you attached to her characters. “You're a lot stronger than the others,” Emily smirked. Her wicked smile was nothing like the cute one she displayed in her author photo. “Everyone else just collapsed when I pushed on them.”

Emily sat on the cold, hard floor of the cell, her hands trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest. The dim light flickered weakly above her, casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. Her thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened. The accident, the kidnapping—none of it seemed real. She was exhausted, her body aching from the rough treatment she’d endured, but her mind refused to rest. The sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor outside, and Emily’s heart leaped into her throat. She scrambled to her feet, her hope surging despite the fear that gripped her. Maybe someone had come to rescue her. Maybe her brothers had found her.

“A pleasure to meet you, Zach! I’m Heather, Rath’s mother, obviously.” “Nice to meet you, Mrs Emerson,” I greeted her in return, only for her to once more hold me close to her chest. “So cute! But call me Heather! I’ll sound like an old lady if you call me that!” She chimed happily. From Rem’s description of her family, I hadn’t expected this at all. “You are old,” Rem claimed as his eyes scanned the books in a rather indifferent manner. “They informed you he was a werewolf, right?” He then asked, glancing up at the two of us.

“The one you explicitly forbade me from approaching. I can’t explain the science of it, Cade, but the moment I look at it, I get this terrifying sense of deja vu. Like my feet know the floorboards. Like something catastrophic happened to me behind those doors.” It’s her. She’s Rachael. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, knocking the air clean out of my lungs. “And lately, the nightmares have been getting worse,” Emily continued, her voice growing raspy, entirely unaware of the executioner's axe hanging over my head. “I’m running through the dark, and someone is hunting me down. I can never see his face, but we always end up at that exact cottage. He corners me. He push

But no one seemed to know much, and Emilia was starting to get frustrated. Just as she was about to give up, Emilia saw a girl from her history class, Rachel, sitting at a table in the library. Rachel was known for being a bit of a gossip, and Emilia had a feeling that she might know something about Liam. Emilia walked over to Rachel's table and sat down. "Hey, Rachel," Emilia said. "I'm looking for some information about Liam." Rachel's eyes lit up with interest. "What do you want to know?" Rachel asked.

Harrison's guest room, but it was still far more comfortable than any bed I'd slept in before coming here. Rachel sat down next to me, her eyes searching my face. "What's your story, Emma?" she asked, her voice gentle, coaxing the words out of me like a skilled therapist. I took a moment, gathering my thoughts before I spoke, the words spilling out in a rush. I told her everything: my desperation, the job offer, and the unexpected twist my life had taken since setting foot in the Hathaway to Mr Harrison's mansion. Rachel listened without judgment, her expression a mix of sympathy and understanding.

And Catherine had murdered her own daughter-in-law to keep her son under control. "Mommy?" Violet stirred in my arms. "What are you reading?" "Just some old letters, baby." I quickly turned on the laptop's camera and positioned it to record my face. If something happened to us, at least there would be evidence. "My name is Emily Carter," I whispered into the camera. "Today is the day before Jason Richie's memorial service. I'm hiding in a secret room built by Elizabeth Richie before she was murdered by Catherine Richie. I have evidence that the Richie family is part of a network that kills vulnerable women for wealthy clients."

CHAPTER 13 Emily sat in her office, surrounded by the familiar scent of old books and the soft hum of the computer. Her eyes drifted out the window, lost in thought. The memories she had tried to bury for so long began to resurface - memories of how she became an attorney, driven by a desire to fight for justice and protect the innocent. Her mind wandered back to her childhood, to the days when her brother, Wilson, would manipulate and deceive to get what he wanted. Emily's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched in determination. She wouldn't let her brother ruin Ivy's life, not after everything she had been through.

’ I tell Finn. With a surge of determination, I crushed the steel lock in my grip. The drawer creaked open, and inside lay a single book. I picked it, as I turned the pages. My breath hitched in my throat and my eyes burned with anger at what I found. It was sketches—of Emily. Page after page, after page, her face filled the papers, accompanied by what appeared to be her white wolf with a mark of the moon goddess on her forehead. What kind of obsession was this?

—————— While narrating the entire thing, Auntie Rachel opens the closet of the shelf and takes out some envelopes. She hands them to me. I take them with trembling hands. "These are the letters Emily wrote to Camden. She was too scared to talk about all those things. And Camden told her to write it all on paper. It helped her indeed. I never opened them because I don't think I'm ready to read the turmoil my daughter has been through" I don't think I can read them but if I wanna punish myself for not being there for her, for not realising what she has been through, for not looking deeper into her eyes and finding the truth, I'll have to read them.