MasukDominic did not sleep.
He stood in his study long after Emma locked herself in the guest bedroom upstairs. The house was silent, but the silence was wrong. Too heavy. Too distant. For four years, this house had responded to her. Her perfume in the hallways. Her voice instructing staff. Her quiet laugh drifting from the balcony at night. Now it felt like foreign territory. And he hated it. His jaw tightened as he replayed the hotel scene again. The tears. The way she stepped back from his touch. The refusal in her voice when she said no. Emma had never told him no. Not like that. Not without softening afterward. Tonight she hadn’t softened. She had withdrawn. And that was unacceptable. *** Upstairs, Emma sat on the edge of the bed in the dimly lit guest room. Not their bedroom. She couldn’t step inside it. Not after picturing Laura’s hands on him. Her stomach churned again. The nausea hadn’t stopped. She pressed her palm against her abdomen slowly. Late. She counted backward in her head. Her breath trembled. No. It couldn’t be. But deep down she knew. She hadn’t felt it before … faint exhaustion, dizziness, that strange heaviness low in her body. And the timing… Tears slid down her face silently. Of all the moments. Of all the nights. Of all the betrayals. This one came with consequences. A child. His child. The door opened without knocking. She stiffened. Dominic stepped inside. He had changed out of his suit. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Hair still slightly disheveled. He looked unfairly calm. Controlled. Powerful. Like the man who had built an empire from nothing. Not the man who had just destroyed his wife. “You locked the door again ,” he said quietly. “You broke it …. Again .” His eyes flicked toward the handle. Then back to her. “If I need to enter a room in my house, I will.” There it was. Control. Ownership. Emma wiped her tears quickly and stood. “I don’t want to fight.” “Good,” he said. “Neither do I.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You were in bed with my best friend.” His jaw tightened. “It’s not what you think.” “Then tell me what it is.” Silence. His gaze hardened. “It’s complicated.” The same word. She felt something inside her snap. “Stop saying that.” Her voice rose for the first time. “Stop talking to me like I’m stupid.” Dominic stepped closer. Slow. Measured. Every step calculated. “You’re emotional,” he said low. “And when you’re emotional, you misinterpret.” Misinterpret. Her chest burned. “I saw you,” she whispered. He stopped only inches away now. Close enough that she could smell his cologne. Close enough that her body remembered him. Hated that it remembered him. His hand lifted instinctively, brushing a tear from her cheek. The touch was gentle. Intimate. Familiar. Her body reacted before her mind did. She froze. His eyes darkened at the response. “Look at me,” he murmured. She didn’t want to. But she did. And what she saw unsettled her. Not guilt. Not remorse. Possession. “You’re my wife,” he said quietly. Firmly. “Nothing changes that.” Her breath hitched. “You don’t get to decide that.” “Yes,” he said. “I do.” The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. Dominic had never been loud. He dominated quietly. Through presence. Through power. Through inevitability. “I want a divorce,” she said suddenly. The air changed. His expression didn’t explode. It froze. Completely still. “No,” he replied. No hesitation. No shock. Just refusal. “You don’t get to refuse,” she said, heart pounding. He stepped even closer. Now her back nearly touched the wall. “You think I built everything I have because I let people walk away from me?” She swallowed. “This isn’t business.” His fingers wrapped gently around her wrist. Not hurting. Just firm enough to remind her how strong he was. “It is to me.” Her pulse raced. “Let me go.” His grip tightened slightly. Not painful. But deliberate. “You don’t get to leave me because you’re upset.” “I’m leaving you because you have been cheating on me ... Don’t know for how long..,” she breathed. “I’m done with you.” That word hit him. She saw it. A flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes. He released her abruptly and stepped back. “You’re not thinking clearly.” “I’m thinking perfectly clearly.” Her stomach twisted sharply again. Harder this time. She inhaled sharply. Dominic noticed. Immediately. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “Emma.” His voice shifted. Not softer. Sharper. More alert. She turned away from him instinctively. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back. “What is wrong with you?” “Don’t you touch me!” “Don’t…” She shoved him harder than she intended. And suddenly… The room spun. Her vision blurred. Darkness edged her sight. Dominic caught her before she hit the floor. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Her body trembled. “Emma.” His voice changed completely now. Not controlling. Not cold. Concerned. Real. She clutched his shirt instinctively as nausea surged again. “I feel sick,” she whispered. His eyes narrowed. “How long?” She froze. He saw it. The hesitation. The calculation. His gaze dropped slowly to her abdomen. Then back to her face. And something shifted. “Are you pregnant?” The question landed like a gunshot. Silence filled the room. Her heart pounded violently. She didn’t answer. That was answer enough. Dominic went very still. His hand moved …slowly ….almost unconsciously …….to rest against her stomach. The gesture was possessive. Claiming. Terrifying. “You’re carrying my child.” Not a question. A statement. Her throat tightened. “Yes, Maybe . I don’t know .” The word barely escaped. For a moment, neither of them moved. Dominic’s expression was unreadable. But something fierce ignited in his eyes. Mine. That’s what it said. Mine. His jaw hardened. “You’re not going anywhere.” The words sent ice through her veins. “This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered. “If anything, it changes everything.” “Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.” He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair. His mind was already moving. Strategizing. Calculating. A child meant legacy. Heir. Continuity. Power. And Emma was the mother. “You think divorce is happening now?” he said low. “It’s not.” “You can’t force me to stay.” His gaze returned to her. Cold. Focused. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” Fear crept up her spine. Not because he was yelling. But because he wasn’t. Dominic didn’t threaten without capability. “I won’t let you raise my child away from me,” he continued. “I won’t let you take what belongs to me.” “I’m not your property!” “You’re my wife.” The words were final. Dominant. Terrifyingly calm. Tears filled her eyes again. “I hate you.” The room went silent. He stepped closer once more. But this time his hand didn’t grab her. It cupped her jaw gently. Forcing her to look at him. “You don’t,” he said quietly. The certainty in his voice shook her. “Even now, your body reacts to me.” Her breath caught. Damn him. Damn him for noticing. “You think this ends because you saw something?” he murmured. “You think I’ll let another man touch you?” Her pulse spiked. “I don’t belong to you.” His thumb brushed slowly across her lower lip. Possessive. Measured. “You always have.” The tension between them felt electric. Twisted. Dangerous. She pulled away sharply. “This is over.” He stared at her for a long moment. Then his expression changed. Colder. Harder. Strategic. “If you want war,” he said quietly, “be prepared to lose.” And with that… He walked out of the room. Leaving her shaking. Breathing hard. Terrified. Pregnant. And suddenly aware of something far worse than betrayal. Dominic Sterling was not going to let her go peacefully. And if she wanted freedom… She would have to destroy himRowan Blackwood had never avoided a question before. That thought followed Emma all the way to her office. It lingered while she sorted through emails. While she reviewed contracts. While she attempted to read a report for the third time. Nothing seemed capable of distracting her from the fact that Rowan had deliberately changed the subject. It wasn’t the answer itself that bothered her. It was the avoidance. Rowan always answered. Sometimes honestly. Sometimes sarcastically. Sometimes in ways that made her want to throw a stapler at him. But he answered. Today he hadn’t. Emma sighed and closed the file in front of her. A knock sounded against the glass door. A smile immediately tugged at her lips. “Come in, Rowan.” The door opened.
Emma returned home just as dawn began painting the sky in shades of gold and pale blue. The city was slowly waking. A few cars moved through the streets. Streetlights still glowed in the distance. Everything felt quieter than usual. Or perhaps it was simply her mind. By the time she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the house, exhaustion had settled into every part of her body. The living room was dark. The kitchen was empty. Stephanie was still asleep upstairs. Emma set her bag down near the staircase before pulling her phone from her pocket. Her brows lifted. Six missed calls. Three messages. One voicemail. All from Rowan. The earliest call had come barely twenty minutes after she left his apartment. A smile tugged at her lips. She pressed call. The phone rang once. “Emma.” Relief immediately flooded his voice. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Good morning to you too.” “Where are you?” “Home.” A pause. “Home?” “
Silence settled between them. Not an uncomfortable silence. Not anymore. It was the silence that came after a storm. After truths had finally been dragged into the light. Emma sat motionless. Her hands rested in her lap. Her eyes burned. Across from her, Edward looked older than she had ever seen him. Not because of his illness. Not because of the grey in his hair. Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t hiding. There was nothing left to hide behind. No excuses. No distance. No walls. Only truth. For several moments neither spoke. Then Emma finally broke the silence. “What about Adrian and Stephanie?” Edward looked up. The question clearly surprised him. Emma swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. “If looking at me hurt so much…” Her voice trembled. “If I reminded you of Mom…” She forced herself to continue. “Then why didn’t it hurt with them?” The question hung in the air. Heavy. Painful. Necessary. Emma felt
The room was silent. Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that came from peace. The kind that came when a truth was finally about to be spoken. Edward sat motionless across from Emma. His hands were clasped so tightly his knuckles had turned white. For several moments he said nothing. Simply stared at the floor. As though looking directly at her would make the words impossible to say. Finally he spoke. “It started with a letter.” Emma frowned. Edward laughed bitterly. Not because anything was funny. Because it wasn’t. “Then another.” His gaze remained fixed somewhere in the distance. “A few months later there were more.” Death threats. Warnings. Photographs. Pr
Emma left before sunrise. Rowan was still asleep. One arm stretched across the empty side of the bed while the city remained wrapped in darkness beyond the apartment windows. For several moments she stood beside the doorway simply watching him. The previous evening replayed endlessly inside her head. The gala. Victor. The photographs. The stories. The look on Edward’s face whenever Violet appeared on the screen. Nothing about it made sense. For years Emma had believed she understood exactly what happened after her mother’s death. Believed she understood her father. Believed she understood herself. Now she wasn’t certain of any of it. And somehow that uncertainty felt worse than anger. At least anger was familiar. This was
The drive was quiet. Not uncomfortable. Not awkward. Just quiet. Emma sat in the passenger seat staring through the windshield while city lights blurred past outside. The gala felt distant already. Like something that had happened to someone else. Victor’s voice still echoed inside her head. The photographs. The stories. The look on Edward’s face when she’d asked him what changed. Most of all— Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would finally get answers. Or at least she hoped she would. For twenty years she’d imagined this moment. Countless versions. Countless explanations. Now it was real.
Morning didn’t feel like morning. It felt like continuation. Emma opened her eyes slowly. No rush. No panic. No sharp thoughts breaking through. Just— stillness. Heavy. Deliberat
The iron gates of Sterling Mansion opened slowly. Silently. Almost mockingly. The long driveway stretched beneath Dominic Sterling’s headlights like an accusation. Grand. Cold. Merciless. Th
Morning didn’t feel new. It felt… resumed. Emma stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sleeve of her ivory blouse so it didn’t brush against the edge of her cast. The fabric was soft but structured, tucked neatly into high-waisted charcoal trousers that sharpened
The news didn’t arrive loudly. It slipped in. A notification lighting up Emma’s phone in the quiet of her living room, cutting through the stillness Dominic had left behind. She didn’t pick it up immediately. But she already knew. Something had shifted. When she finally looked— The







