It's payback time

Chapter 21

Emma's POV

I had just received a message from Alexis; Michael's mansion was empty, and it was time to keep a close eye on things. As the only one who could gather the information I needed from Michael, I had a crucial role to play. After all, I was Emma.

"Is he back yet?" I asked Alexis thirty minutes later, arriving at Micahel's abode.

"No, not yet," Alexis replied. "But why are you really doing this? You love Michael."

I paused, momentarily silent. "That's exactly why I'm doing this. Because I love him."

"Here, we forged a key to his room," Alexis said, handing me the key. "Be quick, Emma, and don't leave anything behind."

I nodded, taking the key, and slipped into Michael's room. The familiar scent enveloped me, and I felt a rush of memories. Nothing had changed about him.

My gaze fell upon my portrait, slightly cracked but still proudly displayed on the glass table. "Oh, Michael," I whispered, a mix of emotions swirling within me.

This discovery only confirmed the lies behind Michael's façade. I walked over to the wardrobe, and a subtle smile spread across my lips.

"My clothes are still here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Michael still loves me."

I dropped my bag onto the table, my heart racing with a newfound determination.

I slipped into the red gown Michael had gifted me on Valentine's Day, amidst his clothes. I had been searching for any sign of Freya's presence in his room, but there was none. I couldn't find any of her belongings.

I beamed with excitement; this was another confirmation of my suspicions. After a thorough 20-minute search, I still couldn't find any implicating documents.

Just then, Alexis walked in. "Hey, what's with the outfit?" she asked, eyeing the red gown.

I gestured for her to take a closer look. "See for yourself, Alex. Michael still has my portrait in his room, and his wardrobe is filled with my dresses from five years ago."

Alexis's eyes widened. "Wow, that's a big deal! Have you taken pictures?"

I nodded. "Of course... but I still can't find any written documents." I said impatiently, scanning the room again.

Alexis shrugged. "Maybe Freya kept them."

"They share different rooms, and I couldn't even spot any of Freya's belongings in Michael's room," Alexis said, beaming with a bright smile.

But deep down, I wondered why everyone had turned against Michael. Before Bella's death, he was the kindest person in the house. Why had they all forgotten so soon?

All I cared about was gathering evidence to prove Freya unworthy of Michael. I would never let Ambrose get the inheritance.

"Hurry up, we need to check that room over there," Alexis said. "I think it might be Freya's secret room, though I've never seen her sleeping alone there."

I flashed a sly smile. The mere mention of Freya made me nauseous.

I closed Michael's door, putting everything back in place; except for the dress I still wore, despite Alexis's request to change. Alexis excused herself to get a forged key for the door.

I appreciated their preparedness; they always had my back.

As I walked a few steps toward her room, a strange yet familiar voice halted me. "What's going on here?"

I turned around to face the devil herself; Freya.

"And what does it look like, impostor Freya?" I retorted, ensuring every word cut deep.

Freya remained silent, but her eyes widened in surprise and shock as she took in the dress I wore.

"Oh, this!" I taunted. "You recognize it, don't you? Come on, Freya, there's no place for you in Michael's home. I know girls like you; always trying to gain pity."

I fired another verbal shot: "He doesn't even have any of your belongings in his room."

Freya's eyes snapped shut, and her fists clenched, revealing the depth of her emotional turmoil.

I laughed, knowing Freya was restrained from physically lashing out at me. "He even has my portrait in his room, and he gave me the key," I said, noticing the look on her face.

"Oh, poor Freya, did he say he loves you already? Has he slept with you? Or wait..." I paused, moving closer to her. "Let me rephrase... Have you cheaply given yourself to Micahel Smith, the only billionaire who has ever..."

Before I could finish, a punch landed on my face. I paused, realizing my lips had burst. A wave of anger washed over me, and I felt an overwhelming urge to retaliate.

I pounced on Freya, digging my sharp stiletto nails deep into her shoulders.

Alexis rushed in, alarmed by our screams. "Freya, Emma, Michael's not going to like this," she warned.

But I was beyond reason. I couldn't bear the humiliation of being beaten by someone I considered inferior, a weak pauper like her. I dragged Freya by her dull brown hair, and she let out a scream.

My fury intensified as she grasped at me, tearing the clothes I wore from neck to breast. "I'll kill you!" I screamed, my anger boiling over.

*****

Michael's POV:

I couldn't shake off Jason's words. Naomi, Freya's only friend, had visited at the hospital, claiming she hadn't seen Freya in a while. How dare Freya fool me? How dare she act so childish over a meaningless kiss.

As I arrived home, my gaze fell upon a strange car in the compound instead of the car park.

"Can you please stop it!" a voice shouted as I stepped onto the top floor, I witnessed Freya and Emma engaged in a fierce fight. Emma's cleavage was barely covered, and her lips were busted. Freya had scratches on her face.

"Michael, stop them!" Alexis cried, a fake one. But I was frozen in anger.

My eyes narrowed as I saw my favorite dress torn and ripped on Emma's body. My anger boiled over, but the two women remained engrossed in their fight, oblivious to my presence.

I gazed at Freya, her eyes blazing with fury as she left without a word, only to return and attack the woman I was set to marry in six months. She had crossed a line, overstepping her bounds in a way that was unacceptable.

"Freya! Let go of Emma now!" I thundered, my deep baritone voice shattering the silence like a crack of thunder. The sound echoed through the room, making everyone pause.

Emma cried out, "Michael!" her voice trembling with fear and hurt. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself, but my anger was simmering just below the surface.

"How dare you raise your hand to me, you bitch?" Emma's loud scream echoed through the room.

"Now who's the bitch who came into the home of a married couple, for only God knows what you want? Who ever..."

I intervened, my voice firm and commanding; "Freya, come over here." I dragged her away from the chaos, my grip firm but controlled.

Now that we were alone, I noticed the blood oozing from the scratch marks on Freya's skin. Her face was flushed, her eyes still blazing with anger and hurt. She was hurt, but I averted my gaze, my anger still simmering.

"Don't you dare touch Emma," I warned, my voice firm. "She deserves a little bit of respect. She's going to be my wife, and you... you're just a woman I don't understand. You're bound to a six-month contract with me, nothing more."

As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted them. Freya's face fell, her eyes widening in hurt.

"That's all you could say?" she whispered, her voice trembling. " Doesn't it ring a bell? She secretly wore one of your hidden clothes... how...?"

I cut her off, feeling irritation rise within me. "That's for me to handle. It's not your place to interfere."

Freya's eyes flashed with anger. "She insulted my pride."

I laughed, a cold, mocking sound. Did I hear her say Pride? After spending the night God-knows-where?

"It was never your fight," I snapped, my voice harsh. "Emma has every right to be angry."

Freya nodded gently, her eyes welling up with tears. I saw pain and hurt reflected in her gaze, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt. But then I remembered the agony I'd endured when I couldn't find her, the uncertainty and fear that had consumed me.

She gave me a look I couldn't decipher, a mixture of sadness and something else. I knew I'd hurt her again, but I justified it by telling myself I was only paying her back for the distress she'd caused me.