As I walked out of the bathroom, still drying my hands, my stomach growled softly. I made my way into the kitchen, mentally preparing to whip up something simple. But the moment I entered the dining room, I stopped in my tracks. There, on the table, was a full meal laid out for me. Each dish was covered with glass, and right next to them was a small letter.Curious, I reached for the note and read the words aloud, “We promised to fight together. So, you have to eat well.” A smile tugged at my lips, warmth spreading through my chest. I removed the cover glasses, exposing the food underneath, and marveled at the effort.“How did he get so good at this?” I murmured to myself. The thought of Amory preparing this for me made my heart swell. Cooking had never seemed like a chore to him; it was as natural as breathing, something he did without reluctance. As I admired the meal, my phone vibrated on the table, drawing my attention away. The screen lit up with a message from my cooking class
**Emma's POV**"Who asked you to jump in and take a hit for me? You thought I'd be grateful?" Madam Elizabeth smirked at me, her gaze sharp, watching as I rubbed my cheek, still stinging from the slap. "Don't meddle and do things like that. It's not going to change my mind."Her words cut through me, though I didn’t let it show. The tension from the earlier confrontation still lingered, thick in the air, but Madam Elizabeth remained composed, almost indifferent. After the incident calmed down, she suggested we continue the conversation at a restaurant, which was conveniently located near the cooking class building. I hesitated before nodding, regret tugging at me.As we sat across from each other at the small table, the silence was unbearable. I fiddled with my hands, unsure how to start. I swallowed hard before speaking, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's a hard thing to win someone over... especially when you had it and then lost it." The plea in my tone was unmistakable, though
**Madam Elizabeth's POV** Stepping into their gallery company, I let my eyes wander over the various paintings displayed, each one meticulously framed and hung. The room was filled with artistic expressions for sale, each piece seemingly more grandiose than the last. I barely paid attention to them as Hannah Smith led the way to her office. We entered her office, and she quickly served me a cup of juice, setting it in front of me with a forced smile. The tension between us was palpable. “That’s why I said she was inadequate for the Emgrand Group from the start,” she began, her voice laced with satisfaction. “And now here we are. I’m ashamed,” she added, though her tone betrayed the relish she was taking in this situation. I looked from the cup to her, unamused. “I don’t quite understand,” I said, my gaze steady, watching as her smug expression faltered. “Excuse me?” Her voice cracked slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face. I reached out, slowly lifting the cup as I insp
**Amory's POV**I got a call from Father. We were having a family meeting, and Emma wasn’t invited—just us. The air was thick with tension as we waited for Grandma to come out of her room. The usual warmth of these gatherings was nowhere to be found today. Fielding sat beside me, fidgeting, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on all of us.“Grand, are you feeling better?” Fielding asked softly as Grandma finally settled into her chair.“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice low and steady, offering a false sense of comfort.Father’s gaze fell on me, his eyes expectant. I could feel the pressure to speak, but I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I finally spoke, my voice quiet, my eyes fixed on the empty plate in front of me.“I know that my wife and I have caused you all a lot of concern. I apologize for that. I’m sorry,” I said, feeling the weight of guilt settle in the pit of my stomach.Fielding sighed beside me, then took the moment to speak. “I feel like I’ve brought turmo
**Amory's POV**“I heard from the Deputy CEO,” I said, raising my head to meet Zayn's gaze. “I heard you suggested we don't do anything about the news regarding my wife and the company.”“Right. I did,” Zayn replied, his eyes shifting uncomfortably, avoiding mine.“Are you trying to avoid the issue? Or are you trying to make it a bigger one?” I asked, leaning back against my chair, my voice steady but pointed.Zayn’s face twisted in confusion. “CEO, I just…” he started, but I cut him off before he could finish.“Yes, I know. I know you want to screw me over, Mr. Zayn,” I said, locking my gaze on him, waiting for any hint of deflection.“What?” he exclaimed, visibly rattled.I straightened up in my chair, reached for my phone on the desk, and unlocked it. Without breaking eye contact, I opened the gallery, selected a video, and slid the phone across the table toward him.Zayn glanced at the screen, and I saw his face drain of color as the video played. It showed him entering my house—u
**Emma's POV**The kitchen echoed with the clinking of dishes and the soft murmurs of the other women behind me. Their whispering had followed me from the moment I entered the room, and now, as I washed the last plate, the anger that had been simmering inside me started to boil.“Did you see what’s online? It’s insane. This whole thing is so unfair to Madam Mira,” one of them whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Teacher, you need to keep the water cleaner around here.”I couldn’t take it anymore. I slapped the washing gloves against the counter and wiped my hands dry. I turned around to face them, my anger barely contained.“Excuse me,” I said, my voice sharp. “What’s wrong with the water here? I like it.”The woman on the left raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by my sudden outburst.“All the ingredients we use here are top quality,” I continued, my right hand resting on my waist. I walked to the sink, grabbed a cup, and filled it with water from the tap. “Teacher even got a
**Emma's POV**It was early morning when Mr. Foden and I agreed to meet, ready to confront the ghost of my past—Auntie Isabella. The air felt heavy as we walked through the streets, my nerves tightening with each step. Mr. Foden filled the silence with the bits of information he had dug up. “She couldn’t go far because she had to watch the shop. Her life’s been full of ups and downs ever since she was fired,” Mr. Foden continued, though my mind was already spinning with thoughts of the woman who had been like family to me.As we rounded the corner, I saw her—Auntie Isabella. She was hunched over a small wash basin, scrubbing dishes with sweat glistening on her tired face. My heart lodged itself in my throat. She looked so frail, so worn down by life, and guilt crashed over me like a wave. What had she been through because of us?Mr. Foden took the lead, his voice calm yet firm as he approached her. “Excuse me.”She didn’t even look up. “I’m on my break. Come back in the evening,” she
Grandpa's words hung in the air, thick with tension. I could sense the weight of the moment, the gravity of what we were discussing. My chest tightened as I thought about everything—the poison, the betrayal, the company. "Then Hannah must’ve put the poison in your food," Grandpa repeated from his bed, his voice weary but certain.I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts. “She was especially cruel to me when I started middle school. She probably learned I was my father’s biological daughter. That would explain everything—her sudden hatred.”Grandpa frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. “But how did she find that out? And why did she say those things to Isabella?”I leaned forward, my heart pounding as I prepared to ask the question that had been nagging at me. “How did Hannah come to marry my dad?” Grandpa's face hardened as he recalled the past. “She was an assistant in the secretary’s office. Polite, good at her job, and she got along well with Henry. After your mother and Henry