You shouldn’t have been dragged into this. Emma looked at Lily, sleeping with a slight frown on her fevered face. You didn’t drag me in, Jack.
I came back. He nodded slowly. Then his voice dropped again, thick with something he wouldn’t let spill out.
I know you don’t owe me anything, he said, but thank you for coming back. Emma leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. You told me once that everyone deserves to walk without pain, she said.
That goes for hearts, too. They sat in silence, the only sound the beeping of Lily’s monitor and the soft rustle of machines. For the first time in days, Jack allowed himself to breathe, not just because Lily was safe, but because Emma had come back.
Emma stood in the marble hallway of her father’s penthouse, her shoes silent on the polished floor. The window stretched from ceiling to floor, showcasing a glittering skyline, but none of it moved her. She wasn’t here for the view.
Winston Harrington sat at the head of a long glass table, reading the financial section of the paper. He didn’t look up when she entered. I figured you’d be back once the dust settled, he said coolly.
I didn’t come back, Emma replied. I came to talk. Winston folded the paper with exaggerated calm.
You’re living in denial, Emma, running around playing house with a man who works three jobs just to keep the lights on. Emma crossed her arms. That man saved me.
From what, he scoffed. A little discomfort? You had everything, a future, security, legacy, and you threw it away for… what? Emma stepped closer. I didn’t throw it away.
I walked away. There’s a difference. Winston rose from his chair.
You gave up everything to hide in a shoebox with a janitor. Emma’s voice didn’t waver. He’s not a janitor.
He’s a father, a man who shows up every day for his daughter without fail, a man who taught me more about strength in three weeks than you did in thirty years. Winston narrowed his eyes. You’re going to choose him? Over this? Over me? She looked him in the eye.
I’m choosing my life. My voice. And yes, the man who lives by his hands and his heart.
His lips tightened. You love him? I do. He exhaled sharply, as though the word itself had wounded him.
He can’t give you anything, Emma smiled softly. He gives me everything that matters. Winston paced toward the window.
This isn’t some fairy tale, Emma. Real life is hard. You’ll get tired of it, the struggle, the sacrifice…
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