LOGINThe hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Emma hated it. She went alone. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him. The white walls. The hushed footsteps. The way nurses spoke softly, as if grief might be contagious. She sat on the edge of the examination bed, hands folded in her lap, staring at the ultrasound machine across the room. Pregnant. The word still didn’t feel real. The door opened without a knock. Dominic walked in. Not rushed. Not panicked. Controlled. His tailored blue suit looked painfully out of place in the sterile room, but somehow he made the hospital feel like an extension of his empire. His presence shifted the air — heavier, colder. The doctor, who had been adjusting the machine, immediately straightened. “Mr. Sterling,” he greeted nervously. Emma’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t told Dominic which hospital she was coming to. Yet he was here. Of course he was. “I’ll handle the appointments from now on,” Dominic said calmly, removing his watch and placing it on the counter as if settling into a board meeting. “All of them. No one sees her without my approval. No one touches her without my approval.” The doctor blinked. “Sir, Mrs. Sterling can—” “I wasn’t asking.” His tone wasn’t loud. That made it worse. Emma felt heat crawl up her neck. “Dominic, this isn’t necessary.” His eyes moved to her. Dark. Assessing. Possessive. “It is,” he replied. He stepped closer, his hand brushing the small of her back. Not gently. Not roughly. Just… claiming. “You fainted yesterday,” he continued. “You’re carrying my child. I won’t have incompetence around you.” My child. Not our. Mine. Emma swallowed. “I can manage my own medical appointments.” He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was an equation he intended to solve. “You’re emotional right now,” he said softly. “You’re not thinking clearly.” Her fingers curled into her palms. Emotional. Because she had walked into a hotel suite three nights ago and found her husband inside another woman. Inside her best friend. She forced her voice steady. “I’m perfectly clear.” Dominic’s jaw tightened …just barely. The only crack in his composure. The doctor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shall we begin the scan?” Dominic moved immediately to Emma’s side before she could answer. He didn’t ask if she wanted him there. He simply stayed. The gel was cold against her stomach. Emma turned her head toward the ceiling. She didn’t want him to see her vulnerable like this. Didn’t want him to think this moment connected them. The machine flickered. A small shape appeared. A rapid, fluttering sound filled the room. Heartbeat. Emma’s breath caught. For one second — just one — everything else disappeared. The betrayal. The hotel. Laura. The control. There was only that sound. Dominic went still. His hand tightened on the edge of the bed. “What is that?” he asked quietly. The doctor smiled. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat.” Silence fell. Emma dared to glance at him. His expression had changed. Not soft. Not gentle. Something darker. Something deeper. Possession had just turned into permanence. “That,” Dominic said slowly, eyes never leaving the screen, “is mine.” The doctor laughed nervously. “Yours and your wife’s, sir.” Dominic didn’t respond. Emma felt it then ….the shift. The affair hadn’t made him chase her. The pregnancy had. After the scan, the doctor began explaining vitamins, precautions, dietary restrictions. Dominic interrupted every few sentences. “What are the risks?” “What are the failure rates?” “What complications occur in women under stress?” Emma stiffened. “I’m not under stress.” Dominic’s eyes slid to her. “You fainted,” he said. “You’re pale. You barely eat.” Because I saw you naked with her. But she said nothing. The doctor scribbled something on a pad. “She needs rest. Stability.” Dominic nodded once. “Then that’s what she’ll have.” His phone buzzed. He ignored it. For the first time since she had known him, he ignored a business call. Emma didn’t know whether to feel touched or terrified. Outside the hospital, the driver opened the car door. Dominic helped her inside. Again … not gentle. Not cruel. Controlled. As soon as the door shut, the mask shifted. “You will not go anywhere alone,” he said calmly. Emma stared at him. “Excuse me?” “Doctor appointments. Social visits. Anything. Tom will drive you. And security will be outside the house at all times.” Her pulse spiked. “Security?” “You think I didn’t see the way your family looks at you at dinner last month?” The name hit like a slap. “You’re unbelievable.” “No,” he corrected quietly. “I’m observant.” He leaned closer. Close enough that she could smell his cologne …dark, expensive, familiar. “You’re not safe,” he said. “Not from your family. Not from anyone who thinks they can take what belongs to me.” Belongs. Emma’s breath turned sharp. “I am not your property.” His eyes darkened. “You carry my last name. My child. You live in my house.” “That doesn’t mean you own me.” Silence. Then something dangerous flickered behind his gaze. “You want freedom?” he asked softly. “From me?” The car felt smaller. “Yes,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Dominic leaned back slowly. Studying her. Calculating. “You won’t get it.” The words weren’t shouted. They were promised. Back at the house, he canceled three meetings. Emma heard him through the office doors. “Yes, reschedule. No, I don’t care about the Singapore deal. Handle it.” He never handed off power. Never. But today, he did. For control. For surveillance. For her. That evening, she found a new lock on the main gate. Two additional guards. Her phone buzzed. A notification. Location sharing enabled. She stared at it. Dominic appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. “You installed tracking on my phone?” “For safety.” “You had no right.” “I have every right.” Emma stood up. “You cheated on me.” There it was. Out loud. Heavy between them. Dominic didn’t flinch. “Yes.” The calm admission stole the air from her lungs. “You say it like it’s nothing.” “It was nothing.” Her laugh broke — sharp and bitter. “You were in bed with my best friend.” “And she meant nothing.” The arrogance. The certainty. Emma felt tears sting, but she refused to let them fall. “You humiliated me.” His voice dropped. “I made a mistake.” “You made a choice.” Silence. Then he stepped closer. “Do you love me?” he asked suddenly. The question caught her off guard. She didn’t answer. Dominic’s jaw tightened. “That’s what I thought.” He reached up, brushing his thumb under her eye where a tear had finally escaped. “I won’t lose you,” he said quietly. “Not to Laura. Not to pride. Not to anger.” “You’ve already lost me.” His hand stilled. “No,” he corrected softly. His gaze dropped to her stomach. “You’re still here.” A chill ran through her. Later that night, Emma lay awake. Dominic’s arm was draped over her waist. Heavy. Restricting. As if even in sleep, he needed to anchor her. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. A message. Unknown number. She carefully lifted Dominic’s arm and reached for it. A photo loaded. Grainy. Taken outside the hospital. Her. And Dominic. Watching. Another message followed. “You think he’ll protect you?” Her blood ran cold. Another text. “He couldn’t even protect his marriage.” “It has to be Laura.” Emma whispered. Emma’s fingers trembled. She glanced at Dominic. He was awake. Watching her. “How long have you been awake?” she whispered. “Long enough.” “Did you—” “Yes.” He had seen the messages. His expression changed. Not jealousy. Not anger at Emma. Something far more dangerous. A predator sensing threat. He took the phone from her hand. Read the messages again. His jaw tightened. “She contacted you before?” he asked quietly. Emma hesitated. That was answer enough. Dominic stood. Calmly. He picked up his own phone and dialed a number. “Find her,” he said into it. “Now.” He ended the call and turned to Emma. “You will not respond.” “I wasn’t going to.” “You don’t understand,” he said, voice dropping lower than she had ever heard it. “She thinks she can provoke you. Scare you.” Emma’s heart pounded. “And?” Dominic’s eyes turned glacial. “She forgot who she’s dealing with.” He stepped closer to the bed. Caged her in. “If she comes near you again,” he murmured, “I will end her.” Emma’s breath caught. “You’re overreacting.” “No,” he said. “I’m escalating.” Silence filled the room. And for the first time since the affair… Emma wasn’t sure who she was more afraid of. Laura. Or her husband. Dominic leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead. Possessive. Claiming. “Sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll handle this.” And somehow… That scared her more than the betrayal ever had.Rowan 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.
The police station smelled faintly of disinfectant and exhaustion. Cold walls. Metal chairs. Fluorescent lights that hummed just enough to make silence uncomfortable. Emma stepped inside quietly. No designer heels. No sharp silhouettes.
The knock came before the sun had fully set. Hard. Insistent. Demanding. Emma froze. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the couch. Pain throbbed in her leg—fresh, raw, reminding her she wasn’t fully steady yet. Another knock, sharper this t
The house was quiet. Not silent in the way the hospital had been—controlled, monitored—but naturally quiet. Lived-in. Real. The faint rustle of leaves outside, the distant hum of a passing car, the soft creak of wood settling into place. Normal.
The rain had softened by the time they wheeled Emma out of the hospital. Not gone. Just quieter. Like the world had lowered its voice—but not its intention. The sky hung low and grey, the air cool against her skin as the door







