What? Don't you know you're no longer our family when you get married off? You should think about your family now that you're married. You shouldn't be so greedy".
Mother’s words hit me like a slap across the face. My stomach churned, and suddenly, the urge to cry became overwhelming. "I'm so sorry Mother," I whispered, my voice trembling as I fought back the tears gathering in my eyes, just waiting for a blink to spill over.. "Hurry up and get rid of it,” she said coldly before pressing on. “We don't want anyone to think our exhibition is lousy, " she turned to take her leave. "That's so harsh mother," Elena also turned, her lips curled in mockery as she glanced at my painting. "Instead of looking at the painting, can't you see how I feel? Sure, I may not be up to your standard, but I worked so hard on it with all my heart," I spurted out as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Hey listen, you were working on that painting while you should've been working harder. That's why I was upset." "I'm sorry. I misunderstood you. It's for a good cause, so I'm doing my best and I won't disappoint you," I retorted, trying to find her favor. "Let me know if you need anything," she started to take her leave without even looking back. I rub my chest. Trying to ease the pain that was encased there. It does no good. It still fucking hurts when I try to please my parents with what am good at. Growing up, you could say that I was emotionally neglected. I was the child that none of my parents cared that much about. Father and mother's favorite was my sister, Elena. Mother will go to any lengths to get whatever my sister is asking for. I was no one's favorite. I was just Emma and Emma only. I always felt unwanted. Unwelcomed. Not only with my parents but also with my husband's family except they need my help. No matter what I tried I did, even with good grades when we were in school, house cleaning, and gifts, they would never accept one. I always felt like a stranger looking in. Never part of the big happy family. As I stand at the table, engrossed in my painting, the door creaks open, and I can hear the sound of shoes clacking against the marble tiles. I turn around as my heart is beating with every step being taken, sounding closer to me and it's Amory. With a gentle smile, his eyes lit up as they fell into my work. "Wow," he remarked, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "That's really impressive! You have such talent," his words washed over me, filling me with warmth and encouragement and his words began to chase away the sadness my mother had caused me. It was a simple moment, but at least someone made me feel appreciated. His comments let me know as the adage says that 'you never truly appreciate what you have until it's gone," that is how I felt after his words. The door swung open once more, and my sister and my husband entered the room together, their voices mingling in casual conversation. "Amory, why didn't you call me to let me know you came?" "I was studying your sister's painting," he replied to her with his deep voice, cutting the silent space after my sister's question. "Hello sir," my husband was quick to greet Amory because he was the CEO of the company he was working for as the manager. Putting a smile on her face, Elena leaves my husband's side to mine. Standing beside me, putting her hand in between my left arm. "Isn't she amazing? I was really impressed," she said, leaving me in shock while looking into my eyes with her deceitful eyes. Wasn't she the one that made a mockery of me after my mother's comment? "That's enough, Elena," my husband mumbled. "Shouldn't you be boasting if your wife is so talented? Why are you stopping me when appreciating the work of your wife? Do you even love my sister? A palpable tension seemed to linger in the air after my sister's inquiry felt like a pointed jab at my husband. I couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort, with the kind of question my sister is asking my husband. "What?" Zayn stammered, clearly at a loss for words.. "Why are you so surprised? I heard Emma confessed to you first. She won't even know how you feel if you don't express it. Don't you agree, Amory?" my husband takes a deep breath to answer without waiting for Amory to speak. "Come on," my heart is racing, but I can't wait and let my sister be trolling my husband because it's really weird. "He doesn't have to express it for me to know," I let out words trying to be a supportive wife. "Really? How?" she asks in annoyance and stares at me but my eyes shift to her and I give them a small smile feeling with courage to speak. "Because of the time we've spent together," with pride and joy, I look into my husband's eyes while proceeding. "You don't have to say it to know it's love. You can feel it from the way one acts and from words like "Sorry" or "thank you"." Amory clears his throat looking down at his feet. "Really? I don't agree," my sister is the type that always wants to make a mockery of my actions no matter how good it is. "I'm sorry. Thank you. That's what people say to get away. Love is something you should have conviction about. You should be able to tell who that person loves just by the look in their eyes. Don't you think so, Amory?" My heart was caught as she threw the question to him. My heart racing, waiting in anticipation of his answer. "I'm not sure. I think it depends on the person. I think Emma's way of expressing love is fine," my heart began to feel rested after his reply. "Really? How so?" He slides his hand into his pocket, letting his face up at my painting. "To Emma, Mr Zayn must look this handsome. I didn't know if a man could receive so much love from a woman," he turned his face towards my husband. "It's a huge compliment. Enough to make a man jealous." My sister gave me a side look, but I was comfortable with what she got after her weird question. But she's full of deceit and always wants people to support her views. "Now that I think about it, you're right. I didn't know my brother-in-law was so handsome," she left my side to his, grabbing his hand, and pressing it against hers. "What do you think? Don't we look better together?" Amory frowns his face over them with my husband trying to fight back against her hand. "Why? Are you uncomfortable? Am I not good enough for you?" My husband has no words to say but lets out a smile and fights no more, letting down his fighting. No one needed to tell me the truth with the looking on his face. He is madly in love with her even being my husband with the loving look he has never given me that he's giving her.Have you ever felt like your heart has been put in a mincer? That is how I feel right now looking at them. I feel like my heart has been shredded into pieces. I wanted to run away. To look away, but I don't want him to see me feeling jealous of him. Unfortunately, Amory's phone rang, giving me the chance to leave the room. Feeling a lump form in my throat, I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to compose myself. As I splashed cool water on my face, I couldn't share the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at me, wondering all over my sister's words. As I hurried out of the bathroom, my mind still swirling with emotions, I failed to notice the figure approaching from the opposite direction. Before I could react, I collided with someone, nearly stumbling backward in surprise. Looking up, I find myself face-to-face with Amory. His eyes widened momentarily in shock before softening with concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he exclaimed, reaching out to steady me. His touch w
With my heart racing, I follow the officers, determined to uncover the source of the disturbance. As I rounded the corner, my breath caught in my throat when I saw the appearance of someone lashing out, slapping someone. Someone familiar, someone I never expected to see in such a predicament with a force that echoed through the room. It was my mother who was being slapped by one of her customers, Mrs Rodriquez. Shock and disbelief washed over me as I struggled to make sense of the scene unfolding before my eyes. How could this be happening? What had led my own mother to be slapped by someone not up to her level as she always claimed? Shock and horror coursed through me as I watched my mother stagger backward, her hand flying to her cheek in disbelief as she collapsed within a second with her assistant manager gripping her to stand. "The police will find out. What should I do?" I read the words forming on her lips. She whispers to her manager's eardrum. I can see the look o
Tip-toeing through the room looking for Zayn. I can hear my sister's voice echoing in the next room in front of me. I decided to make some silent runs and prevent my hill from making a sound against the tiles. Almost at the edge of entering the room, I could hear my sister's voice. "You have feelings for me? I already know you made it so obvious," I move closer to stay at the entrance to hear clearly and see who she's speaking with. "Only a dense fool like my sister wouldn't realize," what I heard shattered my heart. "I thought it was just a phase and overlooked your cute crush. But how dare you?'' She takes two steps forward, closing the space between them. "How any of you and Emma are so similar? Why do you both not know your place?" her voice rang out with anger, each word a sharp dagger cutting through the air. Her words echoed in the room. "You desire the things you can't have and create a mess…" her voice cut when she realized my presence from the entrance, a look of
I woke slowly, groggy and disoriented, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. The soft beeping of machines was a constant, steady rhythm, a reminder that I was still alive. My body ached all over, a dull, persistent pain that seemed to come from everywhere at once. I tried to shift slightly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my side. My eyes fluttered open, the harsh overhead lights making me squint. The room was a blur of white walls and medical equipment. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what had happened—the accident, the lorry, the crash. As my vision cleared, I noticed a familiar figure standing at the foot of my bed. My mother. For a moment, a flicker of hope sparked within me. Maybe she had come to apologize, to show some semblance of care. But the look in her eyes was cold, calculating, devoid of any warmth. She approached the bed, her steps deliberate and slow. My heart pounded in my chest, the beeping of the monitor quickening in respons
The truth is, I really can't believe this. I was not a good girl. I remembered my mistress. She was a stern but kind woman, with a heart much softer than her demeanor suggested. She had a way of making us all feel seen and valued, even when the world outside seemed to overlook us. It all began one afternoon, she called me into her small, cluttered office, the air filled with the scent of old books and the faint aroma of lavender from the sachets she kept in her drawers. "Sit down, dear," she said, her voice gentle but firm. I took a seat, my small legs dangling off the chair. "Is something wrong, Mistress?" I asked, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and curiosity because I didn't know what have done this time. She smiled, the lines on her face softening. "No, Emma. Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright, I just want to talk to you about something important." I nodded, my eyes wide with anticipation. "You're a good girl, Emma," she began, her gaze steady and warm. "A
Standing in the living room, I faced my mother, or rather, the woman who had raised me. My heart was a fortress of ice, my words sharpened by the memo of betrayal. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Say it again," her hand ran through her hair and then down to her neck, a nervous habit I'd want to see from now on. "I'm not marrying Zayn," I said, my voice cold. Hearing this, she sat her glass of water down, her hands shaking slightly. Her face hardened with her eyes flashing with anger. "I feel under the weather." A flicker of confusion crosses her face, a rare crack in her otherwise impenetrable facade. She blinked, taken aback by my sudden coldness. Her gaze shifted momentarily, and she noticed the maid stand silently by the doorway, a witness of our fractured exchange. "Go get me some chicken. I'll boil it for dinner." She instructed the maid, her voice unnaturally steady. The maid nodded and quietly exited the room, leaving us in a sense of silence. "Don't you
Sitting on my bed, my mother and sister's cutting words still fresh in my mind, I felt a surge of determination. They had treated me with such contempt, and I was done being a scapegoat.My finger hovered over my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the name I was looking for, Mia. Not only was she a good friend, but she was also a reporter and the cousin of my sister's boyfriend, Amory.I took a deep breath and pressed the call button. After a few rings, Mia picked up."Hey! Long time no talk," she said cheerfully."Hey, Mia. It's me," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "When are you free? I need to talk to you about something important.""Is everything okay?" she asked, cover creeping into her voice. "Not really," I admitted. "But I'd rather explain in person. Can we meet at that little restaurant downtown? The one we used to go to.""Sure, I can be there in an hour," she agreed without hesitation. "See you soon."Hanging up the phone, I felt a mix of nervousn
With the information in hand, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I would meet Amory first, charm him, and set my plan into motion. They had underestimated me for too long, it was time for them to face the consequences of their actions. The next day, I dressed carefully, choosing an outfit that was elegant yet approachable. I arrived at the Noelle hotel well before 4 pm and found a spot where I could watch for Amory Without being seen. My heart pounded as I waited, determined to make my move. At 3:45 pm, I saw him walk into the hotel's luxurious lobby. He was tall, with a hair of quiet confidence. My pulse quickened. This was a chance. I watched as he sat down in one of the plush armchairs, glancing occasionally at his phone. Taking a deep breath, I approached him. My feet felt heavy with fear, but I forced myself to move forward. "Hello, Amory. Could I sit for a second?" I asked, flashing a polite smile. Amory looked up in surprise. "Emma?" Hearing this sends down a mix
**Emma’s POV** Now I understand that there’s no greater joy than marrying the person you love and knowing they love you back just as deeply. A smile tugged at my lips as both Amory and I signed our names, finalizing our marriage registration. “Now, we just have to…” he said, glancing at me with a playful grin as we both reached for the stamp. “One, two, three,” we counted together, pressing the stamp onto the marriage license. With the finality of that gesture, we submitted our paperwork, and Amory pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as we walked through the lobby. “Congratulations!” voices echoed around us, and I turned to see Catherine, Mia, and some of Amory’s colleagues gathered there, cheering in surprise and joy. “Congratulations, brother! Congratulations, Emma!” Catherine’s voice was bright and happy. Her husband chimed in, grinning, “Just like old times, huh?” I couldn’t help but beam back, the warmth of their celebration washing over me
**Emma’s POV** The sun was barely up, and the morning air held a slight chill, but there was a warmth blooming in my heart that no weather could touch. I reached across the breakfast table, picking up a slice of toast, and took a contented bite. “I think my morning sickness is finally gone,” I said with a sense of relief, smiling as I chewed. My mother’s expression softened as she watched me, her own breakfast momentarily forgotten. “Thank goodness,” she sighed, her hand resting briefly on mine. “I was starting to worry about you, you know, since you’d barely been eating.” She reached over to fill my glass with water, the sunlight catching the faint lines on her hands, a reminder of all the years of love and work she had put into raising me. “Do you have a busy day ahead?” she asked, glancing up at me with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. I nodded, swallowing a sip of water. “There’s a meeting with Dad and Grandpa about the foundation, and then I’m meeting Amory in the evening
Emma POV After leaving Amory's father and grandmother, we finally made it back home. The quiet felt almost surreal after everything we'd been through. I helped Amory settle down on the couch, his steps still unsteady, his recovery a slow process. I could see the weariness in his eyes, but I also saw something else—a lightness that had been missing for so long. We hadn’t been sitting long when a sudden chime from outside caught our attention. I quickly stood, realizing what it was. I hurried to the door, finding a delivery man waiting, a small package in his hands. As I took the package and shut the door, Amory looked over, puzzled. “What is this?” he asked as I placed the package on the table. I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s from my mom. She sent some of her special homemade dishes for you. She thought you’d need the extra strength.” “Your mom actually did that?” he asked, looking genuinely touched. I nodded, feeling warmth at the memory of her kindness. “She took such g
Amory POV It had been almost two and a half months since I’d been confined to a hospital bed, and now, finally, I was going home. My body still felt weak; each step was slow and careful, but I was free. Emma, my mom, and I decided to stop by and visit Grandma and Father before heading home. I knew they’d been waiting anxiously for this moment. As soon as we stepped inside, my mother’s voice rang out, “Mother! Honey!” The joy in her voice was unmistakable. Grandma’s eyes widened as she saw me, her expression shifting from shock to sheer happiness in an instant. She rushed forward, enveloping me in a tight embrace, her joy overflowing. “Amory! You’re home!” she exclaimed, beaming. “You did good. You did good,” she murmured, releasing me and turning to give Emma a hug as well. “You, too,” she added, smiling warmly at her. My gaze shifted to my father, who moved closer, his own smile breaking through the usually stoic expression. “You did good,” he said simply, before pulling me i
**Emma’s POV** Two long, agonizing months had passed since Amory been injured by Fielding leaving him lying motionless in that sterile hospital bed, a shadow of the vibrant man I loved. Every day, I had sat by his side, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, searching his face for any sign of movement, any flicker of life. Even after his second surgery, he lay unresponsive, leaving me to grapple with an ache that felt impossible to mend. I sat quietly, watching him. He looked so peaceful, as if he were only asleep. I reached for his hand, feeling the gentle warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips, and clutched it close. "Amory," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness, "I finally understand why I was given a second chance at life… why I came back." The quiet beeping of the machines filled the silence, steady and constant, a reminder of just how fragile he was. I took a shaky breath, pressing his hand against my cheek, my tears flowing freely as I whispered, “
Emma POV After Madam Elizabeth left, the room fell quiet, filled only with the hum of machines. I was still processing all that had happened when, to my surprise, Mr. Foden entered. It had been days since I’d last seen him—days since I learned the shocking truth that artist Edward Jones was his father.“You don’t look well, Ms. Emma,” he said, settling into a chair nearby. His gaze was steady, filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.I sighed, sidestepping his observation. “How’s your father doing?” I asked, shifting the conversation away from myself.“He’s at the nursing home,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. He studied me closely, then continued, “What I said at the police station was quite shocking, wasn’t it?”I took a deep breath, the weight of it all pressing down on me. “I thought you might be connected to Edward Jones in some way. I didn’t know you were father and son.”He gave a small, regretful shake of his head. “I was sent to an orphanage so young
madam Elizabeth POV I sat down heavily on the couch, the tension from the hospital clinging to me like a weight I couldn’t shake. Emma was with Amory, still in critical condition after his first surgery, and the doctors were already discussing the need for another procedure. My heart twisted just thinking about it. “So, is there no progress on Amory?” Grandma’s voice was soft, yet tinged with worry. She was sitting across from me, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. I let out a long sigh, meeting her gaze. “They need to operate again. I’m so worried, Mother. What if he…” I trailed off, unable to finish the thought. I couldn’t bear to voice my fears. “Don’t say that. We have to be strong, somehow,” my husband interjected as he stood from his chair. His voice was firm, but I could see the concern etched into his face. He left the room without another word, leaving Grandma and me in a heavy silence. Just then, the sharp sound of the doorbell shattered the quiet. One of the mai
Fielding POV The clanking of the cell door jolted me from my thoughts. A police officer swung it open, gesturing for me to step out. I was handcuffed, and as I stepped into the hall, I saw him: my father, sitting stiffly in the visitor center. His eyes fixed on me as I entered, an expression that was as cold as it was unforgiving.For a moment, I froze, unable to take another step. But I forced myself forward, one heavy step after the other, until I reached the chair across from him. We were separated only by a small table, yet the distance felt insurmountable. He remained silent, his face a tight mask of anger and disappointment.After a painfully long silence, he finally spoke, his voice a low growl. “How could you do such a thing?” he asked, his words dripping with disdain. “I thought, maybe, after all this time, you would change. I thought you’d learn something.” His voice broke, raw and filled with an intensity that made me look away, unable to hold his gaze.He continued, his t
We reached the hospital, and Amory was rushed inside while I was directed to the waiting area. I sank into one of the chairs, numb, with tears streaming down my cheeks as the reality of everything crashed over me.“Emma! Emma!” someone called, but I was lost in my turmoil, barely aware of my surroundings. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Amory’s mother, Madam Elizabeth, standing before me, her face etched with worry.“What happened?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear as she knelt beside me.I took a deep breath, trying to muster the strength to explain, but the words felt heavy, almost impossible to say. “Amory… he got hurt trying to protect me,” I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper as I avoided her gaze, feeling the weight of guilt settle deeper in my chest.Madam Elizabeth gasped, her hands trembling. For a moment, I couldn’t bear to look at her, but she surprised me by pulling me into a gentle embrace, her hand rubbing my back soothingly. “It’s okay,