Make It Or Break It Emily And Novels & Stories

I said, and thinking about it now, a smile graced my lips. She didn't give a fuck even if I had to give her everything I have. She is the Queen of revenge herself. "Well, I told you women are different. Emily is from a different planet." Maddox said and I agree with him seriously. My phone broke the conversation I was having with Maddox and Rylan. I stand up and leave their side as I stand up. "Excuse me, I need to take this call," I said and walked away from the club. Thierry wouldn't call me at this time if it's not about something important.

They waited. They lingered. They planted seeds. And they hoped that when the time was right—when I failed or fell short or proved too difficult—Emily would run. And they’d be waiting. Arms open. Smiling. Safe. Predictable. Wrong. Because Emily wasn’t just a beautiful mind or a soft heart. She was fire. And fire didn’t belong in a glass case. It belonged with someone who could handle the heat. Even when it burned. Even when it broke you.

“I won’t kill her quickly.” His expression darkened. I had learned the hard way that Emily wasn’t easy to break. She had stood against me when everyone else bowed. She had looked me in the eye and laughed when I threatened her. She had taken everything from me and didn’t even flinch. But she wasn’t untouchable. I would make her beg. I would strip away that fire in her eyes, piece by piece. And when she was nothing, when she was just a trembling, broken shell at my feet, I would let Cole watch.

Then: “And what about me? I’m not getting dragged into—” “You’ll get your money,” Emily interrupted smoothly, her voice sweet as honey, deadly as glass. “And when this is over, you’ll disappear, just like before.” A pause. Then the line went dead. Emily set the phone down carefully, staring at her reflection in the coffee’s surface. It’s all falling into place. Eve thought she could play defence, that she could hide behind her picture-perfect grief and quiet desperation. But Emily knew better. Women like Eve always cracked when pushed hard enough.

"The doctor said she just needs to rest." "Good to hear." He watched me packing and frowned. "You're not really leaving over a necklace, are you?" A necklace? I stopped and looked at him. "In your eyes, that was just a necklace?" "That's not what I meant…" He looked flustered. "I know it was important, but it's broken. We can find the best craftsman to fix it. There must be some magic that can repair it perfectly…" "Repair it?" I laughed, a cold, empty sound. "Austen, some things, once they're broken, stay broken."

She turned back to the pot, stirring as if her life depended on it. But inside, everything was breaking. ****** Later that night, after Ethan had been slept on the bed and her mother had retired early, Emery sat at the edge of her mattress with the phone in her hand. Her thumb hovered over Damian’s contact. She typed. “Why? Was everything a lie?” Delete. She typed again. “I thought I meant something to you.” Delete. Tears blurred her vision. She slammed the phone down, clutching her head. In the small cracked mirror opposite her bed, her reflection stared back — a pale, broken version of herself.

Emily said, her voice breaking apart with every word. "What?" Nana said, her hand flying to her mouth. "Don Emilio called," Emily continued, sobbing harder now. "He said he won. He sent me a video of my baby, unconscious. And then I called Jems' phone, and some strange man picked up and said he'd break her bones if I kept calling." "That bastard," Miller muttered under his breath, his own composure cracking for just a moment. "Don't panic, okay? I'll be at your house in thirty minutes."

Lilith’s Pov Emily dropped the bomb like it was nothing. Like she just said she had cereal for breakfast. “I had sex with Maya.” I blinked. Hard. My jaw practically hit the floor. “Wait. What did you just say?” Emily gave me the most casual look ever. “You heard me.”

"Jack Reynolds broke your heart and publicly humiliated you. Now you hold his career in your hands. That's a complex dynamic, Emmy." "I'm aware." Emma straightened papers that didn't need straightening. "But I won't make decisions based on revenge."

Enzo cut her off righteously, then roared at the doorway, “Enforcers! Seize this traitor and throw her in the dungeons!” The death sentence was passed. Everyone expected me to cry, to beg for mercy. I didn't. I just sat there calmly, as if the person being condemned was a complete stranger. Just then, Eliana’s gaze shot to my bed. To the slight lump under the covers. She finally realized it. Her perfect drama was missing a key prop. A heartbroken mother needed to be clutching her ‘stolen’ child to make the accusation stick. She gasped, her face twisting into a perfect portrait of victimhood.