I deliberately walked away, making sure the driver didn't tail me. After hailing a cab to head home, I happened to come across Emerson's newest Instagram post. Normally, he's too wrapped up in work to share much online. If I'm remembering right, this is his first update in about two years. It's a picture of him with Isabelle.

They're both smiling at the camera—she with a fresh, sweet charm, and he looking handsome. They seem to complement each other perfectly. The caption read: "Forever love, Saoirse." My fingers froze around the phone, and a knot tightened in my chest.

Once, in Emerson's study, I found a photo tucked away in a drawer. It was of him with another girl. They looked so young, dressed in school uniforms, grinning at the camera. Saoirse had a baby face with tiny dimples, utterly adorable. Just like in the current photo of Isabelle. The resemblance between them was striking.

A friend of Emerson's once mentioned that he was with me because my voice reminded him of Saoirse's. Back then, I refused to believe it, but harsh reality has given me a rude awakening. Now that he's found someone who bears an even closer resemblance to Saoirse, he no longer has any need for me.

When I returned home to pack my things, Emerson and Isabelle came in together. She twirled around in a Victorian-style dress in front of him. "Do I look good, Emerson?"

His eyes were fixed on her. "Call me Em."

Her cheeks went pink, and she lowered her gaze. "Okay," she replied softly.

At that moment, she saw me. "Oh, you're back, sis. It's pretty chilly outside, come on in."

Every word and action made it seem as if she were the lady of the house. I glanced at Emerson. He was lounging on the sofa, sipping coffee, looking calm amidst the spirals of steam. I used to think he was indifferent to others. Now, I was that other.

Without a word, I moved to my room to pack. As I walked by, he chuckled lightly at Isabelle. "Leave a mark for me."

"Sure, Em," she giggled.

My heart shattered completely. I couldn't believe the man who once treated me so tenderly would hurt me over and over again. Clenching the hem of my shirt, I turned and went into the room. Throughout our seven years together, he pampered and indulged me. He always used to say, "I love you." I genuinely believed he meant it.

As I packed, tears streamed down my face. Honestly, accepting that he no longer loves me is something I can't do just yet. Even now, my heart aches for him.

Suddenly, Isabelle barged in, her big, bright eyes blinking at me. "Sis, Em asked you to take me to the room upstairs."

I paused. I knew Emerson too well; he knew I disliked Isabelle and used her to provoke me. Even without seeing him, I could guess what was going through his mind: if I didn't relent, this girl would replace me. He's used this tactic repeatedly over the years. In the past, I would give in, but this time, I wouldn't.

"Can't you walk yourself?" I snapped coldly, closing my suitcase to leave. But she grabbed my hand, her once gleaming eyes turning dark.

"You really think you're the lady of the house, don't you? I'll make sure that's no longer the case."

With a loud "smack," she slapped herself, revealing those dimples with a triumphant grin. "Guess who Emerson will believe?"

Before I could react, she burst into tears. "Please, sis, don't hit me, I'll leave right away…"

It hit me then what she was trying to do. How ridiculous, to use such a transparent trick. Emerson isn't easily fooled; he's not going to fall for her act.

I realized my mistake.

When Emerson Gordon walked in and saw Isabelle Greene crying, he was furious: "Did you hit her?"

"Alice," he continued, "I've always thought you were a submissive woman, ideal for being my wife."

"But now, you've let me down."

My heart clenched painfully, and I let out a bitter laugh. "I'm just as let down by you."

"There's no point in two disappointed people staying together."

With that, I pulled my suitcase and headed for the door.

He stopped me, his voice low and threatening: "Are you sure you want to go? You think you can make it in New York without me?"

I knew what Emerson was capable of. There was someone who had crossed him once, and I never heard or saw that person again in this city. Emerson had the means and influence to ruin anyone.

But I never thought he'd use such threats on me.

"I'll do better without you."

I turned and walked out.

Outside, heavy snowflakes were falling. I remembered how it was snowing like this when Emerson first took me away from my family. I was still in high school then, and I had just gotten into an Ivy League university after much hard work.

My parents hit me and yelled at me, forbidding me from going to college. They said, "Girls don't need that much education."

Then, Emerson showed up unexpectedly, gently draping a coat over my shoulders and asking, "Would you like to come with me?"

In that moment, I felt my heart soften.

"Alice, what are you doing here?"

A car driven by one of Emerson's buddies pulled up in front of me. It was Rocky Nichols, the guy from the club earlier, sitting in the passenger seat, with another man I didn't recognize in the back. I could feel the stranger's eyes shamelessly checking me out.

"Running away from home, huh?" Rocky asked, with a smirk.

I had zero fondness for him. Every time Emerson took me out, Rocky would belittle me, calling me just a stand-in, claiming Emerson didn't really care for me. My good mood would vanish instantly, and Emerson wouldn't do anything; he'd simply say, "Alright, Rocky, quit teasing your sister-in-law."

This time, Rocky crossed the line, flaunting another woman to Emerson right in front of me, mocking me. As expected, Emerson did nothing.

I tightened my grip on my suitcase handle. "None of your business," I snapped, turning to leave.

The man in the backseat suddenly got out. "Hey, don't go, sis. Come hang out with us," he said.

Rocky chuckled nastily. "Leo, you've got guts, messing around with Emerson's girl!"

Leo, as he was called, seemed unfazed. "Emerson's not into her anyway; she's just a stand-in. Even if he hears I messed with her, he won't care."

My heart sank. I knew all too well that Emerson wouldn't care. I bolted, but Leo grabbed my arm, pulling me back towards the car. "Don't touch me!" I yelled.

Leo's eyes lit up. "Her voice is just like Saoirse's," he remarked.

Rocky sneered, "That's probably the only thing Emerson noticed."

"Okay, if you're going to mess around, do it fast. I'm stepping out for a smoke," Rocky said, getting out of the car. "And it’s best if Emerson never hears about this."

Leo pinned me down, his grin repulsive. "You're such a coward, scared of nothing."

"Let me go! Let me go!" I fought as hard as I could. I had warned Emerson about staying away from Rocky because I sensed he was trouble. But Emerson never listened; he'd always say, "He's been my buddy since we were kids." Meaning, I had no right to make such judgments.

Before I realized it, Leo was calling Emerson. "Emerson, found your girl on the street. You mind if I have a little fun?" He laughed.

The man on the other end paused for a couple of seconds before speaking slowly, "Alice, do you want to come back? If you do, I'll come get you."

I understood his threat. If I said no, Leo would continue. I bit my lip, anger bubbling inside. "No, I'm not coming back."

"Emerson, I'm never going back."

I could eventually accept that he didn't love me, but I couldn't accept being coerced.

"Fine, then I won't come for you." He hung up. Leo’s hand moved to touch me, his smile wicked. "See, I knew Emerson wouldn't care about you. You're just trash, a filthy excuse for a woman!"

With a ripping sound, my shirt was torn open. Despair churning inside me, I fought back, but it was pointless. I could only scream for help. As he was about to yank down my pants, someone suddenly flung the car door open.

"You've got three seconds to let her go."