Chapter 8: A Fight

Emma's Point Of View

“Sleeping Beauty,” a voice teased gently, tugging me out of the comforting void of sleep. My brother Brandon’s hand was on my shoulder, lightly shaking me. His faint smile, so rare these past few years of constant pain and struggle, was like a ray of sunlight breaking through a stormy sky.

I rubbed my face with my palm, smiling back at him. “Morning, lazybones,” I teased, though my voice came out groggy. “How was your night?”

“Not bad,” he replied with a casual shrug that quickly turned into a wince as he shifted his weight.

I shot up, instantly alert. “Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?”

Brandon chuckled softly. “Calm down, Em. It’s nothing serious.”

Just then, the door opened, and the doctor walked in with the nurse trailing behind him. “Good morning, Ms. Carter,” he greeted with professional warmth.

“Good morning, Doctor,” I replied, smoothing my hair as if it mattered.

The nurse handed him a file, and he flipped through it briefly before handing it back. Pulling out his stethoscope, he leaned over Brandon to check his vitals. I held my breath, studying his expression for any sign of concern.

After a moment, the doctor straightened, scribbling a few notes in the file. “Brandon is recovering well,” he informed me with a small smile.

Relief washed over me, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Does that mean he can be discharged soon?”

The doctor’s smile turned apologetic. “Not quite yet. He needs to stay under observation for a little longer. But the good news is that the payment you made has cleared, so financially, you’re in the clear.”

Debt-free. The words rang in my ears like music. I wanted to cry, laugh, and collapse all at once. “Thank you,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The doctor left soon after, and Brandon turned to me, his expression curious. “How did you manage all this, Em? Surgery, chemotherapy, everything... How did you pay for it?”

I forced a smile, my heart clenching at the thought of telling him the truth. “I took out a loan,” I lied smoothly.

Brandon frowned, his eyes narrowing. “What kind of loan covers all this I mean shouldn't you have a collateral for that sort of Loan? ”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut him off gently, squeezing his hand. “What matters is that you’re getting better. Focus on that, okay?”

He sighed but nodded reluctantly.

“I have to go,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I’ve got work early tomorrow, and I need some rest. I’ll come by after work, I promise.”

Outside the hospital, I rummaged through my bag for my phone, only to find it dead. “Great,” I muttered, stuffing it back and flagging down a cab.

The ride back to Adrian’s house was quiet, except for the occasional hum of the radio. I fiddled with the ring on my finger, sliding it on and off. I’d hidden it from Brandon for a reason. If he found out about this sham of a marriage, he’d never let it go. He needed to focus on healing, not my messy arrangement with Adrian Steele.

When the cab pulled up to the house, I paid and stepped out, spotting Adrian’s car in the driveway. So he was home.

Inside, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the central air. As I headed toward the stairs, a sharp voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Where the hell have you been?”

I turned to see Adrian sitting in the living room, his dark eyes boring into me with a mixture of fury and something else, worry?

“I—”

“Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?” he snapped, rising from the couch and crossing the room in a few strides. “An entire day, Emma. No call, no text. I was this close to filing a missing person’s report!”

I leaned against the banister, meeting his glare with calm defiance. “I was at the hospital.”

His anger faltered, replaced by concern. “The hospital? Why?”

“Visiting my brother,” I replied simply.

He slipping his hand right into his pocket, his expression softening. “How is he?”

“Out of surgery and doing fine.”

Relief flickered across his face, but he quickly masked it. “You should’ve told me. I was... worried.”

I muttered an apology, more to end the conversation than out of genuine remorse. “I’m tired. Can I go now?”

He nodded, stepping aside, and I climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Once in my room, I plugged in my phone and waited for it to power up. The moment it turned on, notifications flooded the screen, texts, voicemails, all from Adrian.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I played one.

“Emma, where the hell are you?” His voice was sharp, almost panicked. “Call me back. Now.”

Another voicemail played: “Goddamn it, Emma. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

And another: “I swear, if you don’t respond, I’m calling the cops.”

I stared at my phone, my chest tightening. Why did he sound like he care so much? This marriage wasn’t real. I wasn’t obligated to answer to him. So why did his concern make my stomach twist in ways I couldn’t explain?

Shaking off the thoughts, I showered and changed into fresh clothes.

When I went downstairs, the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of food. I followed the scent to the kitchen and stopped short. Adrian was at the stove, moving with ease as he whipped up what looked like a full breakfast spread.

“Morning,” he said without looking up. “Sit. Food’s almost ready.”

I opened my mouth to protest but closed it when he shot me a look that said, don’t even think about it.

I sat at the counter, watching him work. It was oddly fascinating, seeing the suave CEO in an apron, cooking like a pro.

When he finally set a plate in front of me, I took a bite and closed my eyes. “This is amazing,” I said, savoring the flavor.

He chuckled. “Enjoying it that much?”

I nodded, and he smiled. “Consider it a thank-you for helping me land the Gemstones Corporation contract.”

My eyes widened. “Wait. What!! They signed with us?”

Adrian nodded, and I let out an excited squeal.

"I'm excited for this partnership, have do much to tidy up tomorrow at the office" I said excitedly

But my excitement was short-lived. Adrian’s next words felt like a slap.

“Uhh, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone serious. “You shouldn’t go back to Steele Industries.”

“What?” I stared at him, the fork slipping from my hand.

“It’s against company policy for married employees to work together,” he explained, avoiding my gaze. “And besides, your wrist isn’t fully healed yet. It’s for the best.”

“For the best?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Best for who? You or me? I need my job, Adrian.”

“I’ll pay you double your salary,” he said, clearly frustrated. “And don’t forget the contract f*e. You’ll be set for life.”

I laughed bitterly, standing so quickly my chair scraped against the floor. “I don’t want your damn charity. You will not take my job away from me, Adrian. That’s final.”

I stormed out of the kitchen, ignoring his calls as I slammed my bedroom door shut.

Pacing the room, I clenched my fists. There was no way I’d let him strip me of my independence. This marriage might be a sham, but my career was real. And I was ready to fight for it.