The convenient wife who helped secure your position. Pain flashed across his features. After everything we shared at the lake house, you still believe that? Before she could answer, his phone rang.
After a brief conversation, he turned to her with regret. The Tokyo deal is imploding. I need to go to the office.
Go, she said, turning away. We can talk tomorrow. Will you be here? The question carried weight.
He was really asking if she planned to meet Liam. I don’t know yet, she answered honestly. After he left, Emma rode the elevator to her studio, seeking solace in the one space that truly felt like hers.
She was surprised to find the lights already on and Liam standing before her unfinished canvas. Liam, he turned, and the sight of him hit her with less impact than she’d expected. Once, those boyish good looks had made her heart race.
Now she felt nothing, just curiosity about why he’d hurt her so thoroughly. How did you get in, she asked coldly. I still had the security code.
Please, just hear me out. I need to explain what happened. Five minutes, then you leave.
What happened at the wedding? It wasn’t what it seemed, he began. The morning of the wedding, I received proof that someone close to you was using you, manipulating the situation. That’s your excuse? Why not just tell me at the church, because of who was behind it? It was Ethan.
Emma, my brother, orchestrated everything. The accusation hung in the air. That’s absurd, she managed.
Is it? Liam pulled up an email dated the morning of their wedding, a message from a private investigator detailing Ethan’s obsessive interest in her career, surveillance photos of her at events. This could be fake, she said, though doubt had begun to creep in. There’s more.
Liam showed financial records of a transfer from Ethan’s account to the investigator. He’s been watching you for years, Emma, long before you and I ever met. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered Ethan’s words at the lake house.
I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you three years ago. Why would he do this, she asked, her voice barely audible. Ethan has always wanted what I have.
He created this elaborate plan to drive us apart and position himself as your savior. Unbidden memories surfaced. The black diamond ring that fit perfectly.
The studio already prepared weeks before their marriage, his detailed knowledge of her preferences. Had it all been part of an scheme? Before she could respond, the elevator chimed and Lily stepped out. What the hell is he doing here? She demanded, moving protectively to Emma’s side.
He was just leaving, Emma said firmly. Liam held her gaze. Think about what I said.
Ask Ethan about the investigator, about his collection of your work from before we met. When you’re ready to hear the rest, call me. After he left, Lily turned to Emma with concern.
Are you okay? What did that bastard want? Ethan has been obsessed with me for years, that he manipulated everything to drive Liam away and marry me himself. That’s insane, Lily scoffed. Liam is obviously jealous.
Is it insane? Ethan had a studio ready for me weeks before our wedding. He knew details about my work that I never shared with him. Lily’s expression grew troubled.
Have you asked him about it? Not yet, but I’m going to. Tonight, it was past midnight when Ethan returned. He stopped short at the sight of her waiting.
We need to talk, she said, her voice steadier than she felt. What’s wrong? Liam came to see me tonight. Ethan went completely still.
And what did my brother have to say? He showed me some disturbing information about your interest in me before we ever met. Is it true? Have you been collecting my work for years? Tracking my career? Hiring investigators to follow me? The silence that followed told her everything. My God, she whispered.
It is true. Not the way Liam presented it, Ethan finally said. Yes, I discovered your work three years ago.
Yes, I followed your career, but not out of obsession, out of genuine admiration for your talent. And the private investigator, he flinched. That was a mistake.
After you became engaged to Liam, I wanted to ensure he wasn’t using you for your connection to certain art collectors. So you had me investigated? How is that not twisted, Ethan? I was trying to protect you. From what? Your brother? Or from making a choice that didn’t include you? Ethan’s expression hardened.
When Liam left you at the altar, did you have anything to do with that? She demanded. No. The denial exploded from him with such force that she believed him.
I would never hurt you that way, Emma. Never. But you’ve been lying to me from the beginning, she said, the pain cutting deep.
All those moments when you pretended we were just getting to know each other, you already knew everything about me. Not everything, he said quietly. I knew your work, your public persona.
I didn’t know the woman who challenges me, who sees through my defenses, who makes me want to be better. His sincerity made her waver, but the hurt ran too deep. I don’t know what’s real anymore, Ethan.
Between us, in this marriage, was any of it genuine? All of it, he said fiercely. Everything I feel for you is real, Emma. More real than anything I’ve ever felt.
How can I believe that? You married me under false pretenses. You’ve been manipulating this situation from the start. That’s not true, isn’t it? This whole arrangement.
Was it ever about family honor or corporate succession? Or was it always about possessing me? The word possessing visibly stung him. Is that what you think of me? That I see you as a possession? I need time, Ethan. Space to sort through all of this.
Something in his expression shuddered. Where will you go? I still have my grandmother’s house in Brooklyn. He nodded once.
I’ll have my driver take you in the morning. Without another word, he turned and walked to his study, closing the door with a soft click that somehow hurt more than if he had slammed it. Alone in the vast penthouse, Emma felt the fragile foundation of her new life crumbling.
As she packed for her departure, tears finally came. Not for Liam and what might have been, but for Ethan and what they had shared at the lake house. Had any of it been real? Or had she been a pawn in a game between brothers that she never understood? Chapter 8. Shattered Pieces.
A small brownstone in Brooklyn felt both familiar and foreign to Emma as she unlocked the door. Dust covers shrouded the furniture and the air held the stillness of a place long abandoned. This had been her grandmother’s home, where Emma had grown up after her parents’ death.
She’d kept it after her grandmother passed, unable to part with the last tangible connection to her family. Now, it represented sanctuary, a place to breathe, to think, far from the emotional chaos of Ethan’s penthouse. She moved through the rooms, pulling sheets from furniture, opening windows to release the musty air.
Her fingers trailed over the worn piano keys, the bookshelf filled with her grandmother’s eclectic collection, the kitchen table where she’d done homework and learned to mix paints. I need your wisdom now, Grandma, she whispered to the empty house. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
Three days passed in solitude. Emma ignored calls from Lily, from gallery owners curious about her sudden marriage, even from Liam. She painted obsessively in the small back room that had been her first studio, channeling her turbulent emotions onto canvas in stark, powerful images that felt more honest than anything she’d created in years.
On the fourth morning, a knock at the door startled her from sleep. Wrapping herself in a robe, she cautiously peered through the peephole, then flung the door open in surprise. Richard! Ethan’s father, 62, stood on her doorstep, impeccably dressed as always, an incongruous figure in the modest Brooklyn neighborhood.
May I come in, Emma? Confusion overrode her instinct to refuse. She stepped back, allowing him to enter the small foyer. Richard surveyed the modest home with undisguised curiosity.
Charming, he said in a tone that suggested the opposite. May we sit? She led him to the living room, painfully aware of the contrast between this humble space and his palatial Manhattan penthouse. Why are you here? My son is destroying himself.
The blunt statement caught her off guard. What do you mean? Ethan hasn’t left his office in three days. He’s making reckless decisions, alienating board members, jeopardizing the Tokyo acquisition.
Richard fixed her with a penetrating stare. Whatever happened between you has compromised his judgment. A pang of concern shot through her, quickly followed by indignation.
And you think that’s my responsibility to fix? I think you need to understand the full picture before you make irreversible decisions, he replied calmly, opening his briefcase. Liam came to see you, I presume. Showed you evidence of Ethan’s supposed obsession? Emma tensed.
How did you know that? Because my youngest son has been attempting to undermine his brother since they were children. He withdrew a folder and placed it on the coffee table between them. What Liam didn’t show you was this.
She hesitated before opening the folder. Inside, she found financial records, emails, hotel receipts, a paper trail documenting Liam’s numerous infidelities during their engagement. It was never faithful to you, Richard said bluntly.
Not once in your entire relationship. The revelation should have hurt, but Emma felt only a distant disappointment, as if hearing about a stranger’s indiscretions. Why show me this now? Because you need to understand what you’re dealing with.
Liam isn’t seeking reconciliation out of love, but out of jealousy. He cannot stand that Ethan has what he discarded. That doesn’t explain Ethan’s behavior, she countered.
The collection of my artwork? The private investigator? My son has never been skilled at expressing emotions, Richard interrupted. When he discovered your work, saw your talent, he did what he always does. Researched thoroughly, invested completely.
He’s built his career on understanding the value of things others overlook. I’m not a corporate acquisition, Emma said sharply. For the first time, something like approval flickered in Richard’s eyes.
No, you’re not, which is precisely why you’ve thrown him so completely off balance. He reached into his briefcase again, withdrawing a small, leather-bound book. Ethan’s mother gave him this journal when he was a boy.
After she left, it became his refuge, the one place he expressed feelings he couldn’t show the world. He placed it on the table. He left it open on his desk yesterday.
I took the liberty of bringing it to you. I can’t read his private journal, Emma protested, though her fingers itched to reach for it. You can, Richard countered, because he wanted you to.
Page 94. Against her better judgment, Emma opened the journal to the indicated page. The handwriting was unmistakably Ethan’s, confident strokes filling the page with raw emotion she’d never expected from the controlled man she’d married.
I saw her work today and felt something I haven’t experienced since mother left, recognition. The Thompson exhibition showcased an anonymous artist whose use of color spoke directly to some forgotten part of me. When I finally saw her across the gallery explaining her technique to that pompous collector, I understood why her work resonated so deeply.
There’s an authenticity to her that matches her art, genuine, uncompromising, luminous. Liam noticed her too. Of course, he always has an eye for beauty, but he’ll never appreciate the depth beneath her surface.
He’ll see the masterpiece, but miss the meaning behind it. The entry was dated three years earlier, exactly when Ethan had claimed to have first discovered her work. Emma turned the page, finding more entries chronicling his growing admiration, his frustration when Liam began pursuing her, his internal struggle to maintain distance when all he wanted was to know her better.
This doesn’t excuse the investigator, she said, though her conviction had weakened. No, Richard agreed unexpectedly, that was a mistake born of desperation. When you became engaged to Liam, Ethan feared you would be hurt.
My younger son has a history of pursuing women for their connections, then discarding them like he did with you. Emma murmured, pieces falling into place. Precisely, Richard leaned forward.
What Ethan did was misguided, but never malicious. He’s loved you from afar for years, not as an obsession, but as a man who recognized something extraordinary and feared losing it forever. The revelation rocked her.