Emery Houston POV:

"Emery? Your next client is here." My assistant's voice, calm and efficient, gently pulled me from the suffocating grip of memory. My hands, which had been resting on the cold steel table, felt clammy.

"Thank you, Sarah. I' ll be right there." I took a deep breath, pushing the past back into the dark corners of my mind.

I moved through the back rooms of my animal mortuary, a sanctuary of quiet dignity. I changed into my sterile scrubs, pulling on gloves and a mask. The crisp fabric was a familiar comfort, a barrier between my inner turmoil and the somber reality of my work.

In the viewing room, a small, still form lay on the table. A tiny terrier, its fur matted, a small, sad wound on its head. Its owner, a woman in her late sixties, sat hunched in a chair, her shoulders trembling.

"Please," the woman whispered, her voice cracking, "Can you… can you make him look like himself again? Just like he was before?"

I nodded, my voice soft. "I'll do my best."

As I worked, my movements precise and gentle, a bleak thought flickered in my mind. We spend our lives trying to put the pieces back together, to make things beautiful again. But some breaks are too deep. Some scars never truly fade. Like a broken heirloom, only outwardly restored, but forever fragile at its core.

A buzz vibrated against my hip. My phone. Leo. I glanced at the caller ID, then at the clock. School was out.

"Mom! Dad said he'd call me! Why hasn't he called yet?" Leo's voice, usually a cheerful chirp, was laced with impatience.

I smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile. "He's probably busy, sweetie. Let me call him, okay?"

Just then, my phone rang again. It was Joel. I answered on speaker.

"Hey, buddy! Sorry, I just got back from a dive. Amazing coral reefs, you wouldn't believe it." Joel's voice boomed through the small room, accompanied by the distant sound of crashing waves and muffled laughter. He sounded relaxed, carefree, every inch the "bad boy heir" he was rumored to be.

"Dad! I won a trophy today!" Leo shouted, thrilled to finally connect with his father.

"That's my boy! Knew you had it in you!" Joel laughed, but then his tone shifted, a hint of exasperation creeping in. "Emery, you never call me back. I swear, you could be kidnapped and I wouldn't know."

Suddenly, a woman's voice, husky and teasing, cut in. "Joel, darling, who are you talking to? Your secret family?" A burst of giggles followed.

My heart sank. My grip tightened on the tiny terrier's paw.

Joel's voice, strained now, cut through the laughter. "Just a friend, babe. And my son." He tried to sound casual, but I heard the edge.

More giggles. "Your son? Oh, Joel, you crack me up!"

Leo's bright face fell. He looked at me, his lower lip trembling. He doesn't like them, Mom. His unspoken thought hung in the air.

"Joel," I stated, my voice flat, "I'm going to hang up now."

There was a sudden silence on his end. The laughter stopped. Joel' s voice, when he spoke again, was softer, devoid of its earlier bravado. He sounded like he' d moved away from the others. "Emery, I' m sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen." He hesitated. "I'm on a business trip. I'll be back tonight. Can I pick Leo up from your place around seven?"

"No need, I can pick him up," I said, my voice clipped. I didn' t want him near me, not now.

"No, I want to," he insisted. There was a raw earnestness in his voice that surprised me. "I want to see him. And you."

"Fine," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "Seven it is."

"Emery," he started, then stopped. I could almost feel his hesitation through the phone. Finally, he asked, "Did… did Carter come back too?"

My blood ran cold. "Yes," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "He's back."

Another silence, longer this time. Then, Joel' s voice, low and strained. "Emery, if… if he wants to fix things, and you… if you want to marry him, I' ll clear the way. We can get our divorce finalized. Just say the word."

I blinked. Divorce? We weren't married. My mind reeled. What was he talking about?

Joel sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. He dropped his gaze, avoiding the webcam that he'd somehow activated. In the corner of the small screen, I could see a woman in a tiny bikini sidle up to him, whispering something in his ear. Was this why he was offering me a divorce? To be free of our messy arrangement, free to pursue his "business trip" companion?

A cold wave washed over me. "If you need it, Joel, we can do it now. I'll sign the papers." My voice was sharper than I intended.

He looked up, his eyes suddenly burning with an intensity that startled me. "No!" he practically roared. The woman beside him jumped back. He lowered his voice, forcing it to be calm, but it vibrated with suppressed emotion. "No, I don't need it. I'm a confirmed bachelor, remember? Can't tie a wild thing like me down." He laughed, a hollow, brittle sound. "Besides, don' t go rushing back to Carter just because he' s back in town. You deserve better than that."

My jaw tightened. "I wouldn't go back to him if he were the last man on earth," I snapped, my voice laced with venom. The thought alone made my stomach churn.

Joel flinched, then fell silent. I could hear him breathing, short, sharp gasps.

"I am not some desperate, pathetic woman who chases after men who discard her," I said, my voice trembling with a fury I rarely allowed myself to feel. "I am not that person anymore."

I hit the "end call" button before he could speak, cutting off his mumbled apologies. My hands were shaking. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe deeply. My fingers, still stained with antiseptics, curled into tight fists.

Five years ago, Carter had abandoned me at the altar. The humiliation, the public shame orchestrated by his powerful family, the whispers, the glares, they had all been a blur. I remember screaming, tearing at my wedding dress, a hysterical mess trapped in a gilded cage. Everyone thought it was grief, a heartbroken woman unable to let go of her love. They were wrong. It wasn' t love that made me fall apart that day. It was hate.

Emery Houston POV:

It wasn't love. It was a searing, consuming hatred that boiled in my veins. Hatred for Carter, for abandoning me. Hatred for Camilla, for always taking what was mine. Hatred for my parents, for selling me like chattel.

I wanted to burn their perfectly curated lives to the ground. I spent every penny I had, every ounce of my shattered energy, hiring a small-time journalist, feeding him every sordid detail of the Barry and Houston families. I wanted headlines, scandal, ruin. I wanted them to pay.

But Carter' s family was too powerful. The Barrys moved swiftly, crushing every rumor, every potential leak. They wrapped him in a protective cocoon of their influence, erasing any hint of scandal. My desperate attempts to expose them were nothing but a pathetic whimper against a roaring tide. My first act of defiance, of fighting for myself, had been a spectacular failure.

That night, I drowned my humiliation in cheap liquor, collapsing into a drunken stupor. I woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a stranger's body beside me. My mother stood over me, her face grim. "You've caused enough trouble, Emery," she hissed, her voice cold. "Carter and Camilla are happy. Let them be. Stay silent. This is your bed now. Lie in it."

My mother, the architect of my misery, had drugged me, delivering me to that stranger' s bed. She thought it would force me into submission, into accepting my fate, into becoming the quiet, compliant daughter she always wanted. She thought it would save her reputation.

Instead, it ignited a different kind of fire. I didn't care about their reputations anymore. I cared about justice. I filed a police report, not against the man my mother forced on me, but against her. I wanted her to see the inside of a prison cell. My mother, the perfect socialite, convicted of drugging and prostituting her own daughter. The scandal erupted, far worse than any wedding-day gossip.

Then I went to my father' s office, a place I had only ever entered with a polite knock and a shy smile. I walked in, wild-eyed and raging, and systematically destroyed everything in sight. Papers scattered, computers crashed, glass shattered. His business, built on flimsy foundations of shady deals and backroom handshakes, crumbled under the weight of the dual scandals. I didn' t care. I wanted them to feel the same pain, the same ruin they had inflicted upon me.

I became a pariah. The Barry family, desperate to protect Carter' s pristine image, spun a new narrative. I wasn't the jilted bride; I was the unfaithful one. A promiscuous woman who had cheated on her fiancé, gotten pregnant, and then, in a fit of rage, tried to destroy two reputable families. The story spread like wildfire, painting me as a monster, a liar, a whore. My trauma, my desperate attempts to find justice, were twisted into proof of my depravity. Everyone believed them. Everyone.

I tried to fight back. I tried to find Carter, to confront him, to scream the truth in his face. I flew abroad, chasing rumors, desperate for answers, for closure. But he was a ghost, vanished into the protective embrace of his family. No one would help me. No one would even tell me where he was. Camilla, too, had disappeared. They had both simply vanished, leaving me to drown in the wreckage of my life.

I was alone, pregnant, and utterly broken. The depression descended, a suffocating blanket that stole my breath, my will, my very self. I lost my job, my apartment. I gave birth to Leo in a haze of despair, holding him, looking at his innocent face, a fresh wave of agony washing over me. I tried to end it all, more than once. Three times, I stared into the abyss, only to be dragged back by some stubborn, primal instinct for survival. Each time, I woke up in a sterile hospital room, alone. No one cared. No one came.

No one, except Joel Charles. The man my mother had unwittingly set me up with. He was the one who paid my hospital bills. He was always there, a quiet presence in the background, a shadow in my darkest days.

One night, lying in that hospital bed, the sterile white walls pressing in on me, I realized something. Death was meaningless. It wouldn't bring me peace; it would only bring more pain to Leo, a pain he didn't deserve. If I couldn't die, I would live. And if I lived, I would make someone else pay.

I stopped trying to hurt myself. Instead, I turned my rage outward, a weapon aimed squarely at Joel. I clung to him, emotionally and financially, a parasitic attachment. I blamed him for everything, twisting his quiet support into another form of captivity. I pushed him, tested him, lashed out at him with every ounce of my remaining venom. I watched him flinch, watched his own demons rise to meet mine. I saw his career falter under the weight of my volatile presence. And in that twisted, dark satisfaction, my depression, slowly, grudgingly, began to recede.

Then, one morning, a small hand reached for mine. Leo. He was a year old, his eyes wide and brown, just like Joel' s. He looked at me, a tiny, tentative smile on his face, and said, "Mama."

The sound pierced through the fog of my despair, a ray of sunlight in the oppressive darkness. It was a new year. A chance to be someone else. Someone better. I remembered the girl I used to be, the ambitious, determined girl who had once dreamed of changing the world. She didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve this.

I started applying for jobs, any job. My reputation preceded me, a stench clinging to my name. No one would hire me. Until, a small animal mortuary, run by an eccentric old woman, took a chance. For four years, I cleaned, I learned, I became a licensed animal mortician. I found a strange solace in preparing the small, beloved bodies for their final rest, in offering comfort to grieving owners. It was a quiet, unassuming life, far removed from the glittering world I had once almost entered.

The woman I had been, the one who had screamed and raged and destroyed, felt like a distant dream, a nightmare I' d woken from. But then, I saw Carter again. And for a split second, the old, raw hatred flared. I still wanted to douse him in a pot of boiling oil. But then I looked at Leo, playing quietly beside me, his laughter a gentle melody. He was my anchor. He was my future. I couldn't risk him.

I was no match for the Barrys. I never had been.

Emery Houston POV:

For the next few days, Leo stuck to me like glue, a silent, watchful shadow. He was unusually quiet, his small hand often finding mine, as if seeking reassurance. My work was slow, a quiet lull after the earlier rush, so I picked him up and dropped him off at school myself. It was a small comfort, this quiet routine, a fragile peace after the storm of Carter and Camilla' s reappearance.

But the unease lingered, a knot in my stomach. The sight of Carter, the sound of his voice, had reopened old wounds I thought had scarred over. Every time I drove, I felt a prickling sensation on the back of my neck, a phantom feeling of being watched. I' d glance in my rearview mirror, half-expecting to see his sleek black sedan. Once, I thought I did. A dark car, a familiar outline. But when I looked again, it was gone, lost in the city traffic. My mind was playing tricks on me. It had to be.

Then the call came. Leo' s teacher. Her voice was apologetic, hesitant. "Mrs. Houston, Leo… he' s had a little incident today."

My breath caught. Leo? My quiet, gentle Leo? He never caused trouble. "Is he hurt? Is someone bothering him?" A fierce, protective instinct flared within me.

"No, no, he's fine physically," she quickly assured me. "But he' s been quite upset. Perhaps you could come down?"

My heart pounded against my ribs. Something was wrong. I grabbed my keys, the serene calm of my morning shattered. I hailed a cab, gripping the seat, my mind racing with a hundred worst-case scenarios.

The kindergarten office was a brightly colored room, usually filled with the cheerful din of children's voices. Today, it was silent, almost unnaturally so. And then I saw them. Carter, stiff and imposing, stood by the window. Beside him, Camilla, her pregnant belly a stark, inescapable reminder of their intertwined lives.

Camilla spotted me first. Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits of pure venom. "You!" she hissed, her voice a low snarl. "What are you doing here? Is that… is that really your child?" Her gaze flickered to a small, isolated figure in the corner of the room – Leo, sitting forlornly on a tiny chair, his shoulders hunched.

I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Leo. He looked so small, so vulnerable. I turned to the teacher, my voice tight. "What happened?"

The teacher wrung her hands, glancing nervously between me and Carter. "Mr. Barry and Ms. Houston were here to inquire about enrollment for their… future child," she stammered, her cheeks flushing. "And then, Leo was leaving the classroom to get a drink, and he bumped into Ms. Houston. She… she said he pushed her."

My gaze snapped to Leo. He was clutching a small stuffed animal, his eyes red-rimmed, his lower lip trembling. He didn't hit her, Mom. I didn't mean to. I just want to go home. I could almost hear his thoughts, his frantic plea.

"I didn't! I didn't push her!" Leo burst out, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. "She just… she just stepped in front of me! I didn't mean to touch her!" He looked at me, a desperate plea in his eyes. "Are you mad at me, Mom? Are you going to send me away?"

My heart shattered. I knew Camilla. Her dramatics, her constant need for attention. And I knew my son. He was a gentle soul, never intentionally malicious.

I knelt, pulling him into my arms, burying my face in his soft hair. "No, baby, never. I' m not mad. I believe you." I straightened, my eyes, cold and hard, fixed on Camilla. "I want to see the security footage," I said, my voice dangerously quiet.

Camilla stiffened, her face paling. "What? Don't be ridiculous, Emery! It was a simple accident! Boys will be boys!" She tried to laugh, but it sounded brittle, forced.

Carter, still by the window, didn't move. But his gaze, which had been fixed on the autumn leaves outside, flickered. A fleeting shadow of discomfort crossed his face. He knew his fiancée was lying. He always knew.

"Apologize to my son, Camilla," I said, my voice unwavering. "Now." I gently guided Leo towards the door. "Go back to your class, sweetie. Mommy will be right there."

Leo, still sniffling, nodded, casting one last wary glance at Camilla before disappearing down the hallway.

I turned to leave, my resolve set. I needed to get out of there, to breathe. But as I reached for the door, Carter's voice, startlingly close, stopped me.

"Emery."

I didn't turn around. I couldn't. I kept my back to him, my hand on the cold doorknob.

"When was he born?" Carter' s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it vibrated with an intensity that made my skin prickle. It was a question, but it felt like an accusation. And there was a tremor in his voice, something I' d never heard before.

I stood frozen for a second, my mind racing. What was he asking? Why did it matter? My silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Then, I remembered. The memory of him reaching out to touch Camilla' s shadow, years ago. The secret yearning in his eyes. The way he had dismissed me, effortlessly, at the wedding. He was a ghost in my life. And I would keep him that way.

Without a word, I shifted my weight, silently moving away from the door, away from his presence. His shadow, tall and imposing, seemed to stretch towards mine. I made sure they didn't touch, didn' t overlap.

He moved, stepping around me, his hand clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, blue veins bulging beneath his skin. He stood beside me, his breath warm against my ear.

"I looked up his birth records, Emery," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "His date of birth… it doesn't quite match up with the timeline you presented at the hospital records. Did you… did you lie?"