Chapter 9 He Passed away Yesterday

Hunter adjusted his glasses and glanced toward the front of the shop, where Emma sat.

“Is that really for her boyfriend?” he asked, sounding mildly surprised.

“Yes, Mr. Hayes,” the clerk replied with a small laugh.

“Ask her to come in,” he said.

After the message was passed along, Emma followed the instructions and found Hunter waiting.

She smiled in thanks, picked up her handbag, and walked into the design studio, her high heels clicking softly against the floor.

Passing through the showroom filled with exquisite samples, she drew several appreciative looks from other customers.

“Hello,” she greeted sweetly.

Hunter gave a slight nod. “You’re here to have something custom-made for your boyfriend?”

“Yes. Is that a problem? Can you make a shirt based on this suit jacket?” Emma smiled.

“Why didn’t you bring him with you? That would be more convenient,” he said, lightly stroking his beard.

“I don’t want him to know I ruined his shirt. I’m planning to replace it quietly. This jacket is all I’ve got.”

“Ruined, hmm…” Hunter’s lips curved.

“Can you do it?” she asked.

“Of course. Leave your contact information, and I’ll let you know when it’s finished.”

“All right.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Emma Carter.”

“Very well. Go home and wait for our call.”

Emma blinked. “You don’t need a deposit?”

“Not necessary.” He handed the suit jacket back to her.

“Oh… don’t you need to take measurements?” she asked.

“No need. I can tell the size from this piece alone. Rest assured,” he said, smiling warmly just as his phone rang.

She nodded while he took the call and quietly let herself out.

Later, she messaged him on WhatsApp: [White shirt, please.]

Arms full of shopping bags, she finally headed home.

Ben had sent a string of suggestive messages. She read them all and replied to none.

Then a notification from Chloe popped up: [Please come to my engagement party next Wednesday.]

Emma’s eyes stung as she read the line.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to type a reply.

Emma: [Congratulations! Who’s the fiancé?]

Chloe: [You know him. You’ll find out soon enough.]

Emma wiped at the corner of her eyes and casually tapped into the car’s surveillance system.

Sure enough, the disgusting couple was sitting in her car.

She turned the phone’s volume to maximum, set it on the kitchen counter, and started boiling pasta.

On the screen, the two of them were arguing nonstop. Ben pushed for an abortion; Chloe refused. He insisted he was in love with Emma and said he wouldn’t attend the engagement party.

Emma let out a low, humourless laugh and looked around the apartment she’d rented just over a year ago.

• Time to move. *

• Let that disgusting pair enjoy it. *

The next day, Ben returned the car and went straight to her place.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw a man’s suit jacket draped over the sofa.

“Emma, this jacket…” he started, placing the car keys on the table.

“It’s exactly what you think it is. I’m in love now. Let’s break up,” she said flatly.

Ben froze where he stood. “Emma…”

“What?” Emma said coldly. “If there’s nothing else, please leave.”

She didn’t even bother to look at him.

“You knew, didn’t you? You’re just using this to humiliate me!” Ben’s eyes reddened.

She ignored him and continued packing her luggage.

Enraged, he grabbed her wrist, jerking her to a stop.

“Know what?” she shot back, shaking him off. “Don’t touch me. You’re disgusting.”

“You knew everything?” he asked, stunned.

“Yes. This is the end. Don’t come near me again.” Her voice was like ice.

Silence stretched between them.

“You should go,” she said at last, calm and distant. “Let’s leave each other at least a little dignity.”

She walked back into the bedroom, closed the door, and slid down against it, sobbing silently.

She had no idea how long she slept before a bolt of pain tore through her abdomen, wrenching her awake.

She groped for the light switch, but the stabbing pain in her stomach forced her hand back.

Gritting her teeth, she reached for her phone instead, calling the only people near enough to help: Iris and Ryan.

Iris didn’t answer.

When she rang Ryan, he picked up, even though he was technically on holiday.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked.

“Ryan…” Sweat trickled down her temples from the intensity of the pain.

“Are you sick? Where are you? Can you move?” His tone sharpened instantly.

“Come to my place… I…” Her voice faded as her consciousness slipped.

About ten minutes later.

Bang!

The door flew open.

“Emma!” A familiar voice rang out.

“You really don’t do things by halves,” he said, his tone sharp but threaded with concern.

Strong arms scooped her up as if she weighed nothing, cradling her in a horizontal carry. The familiar scent of pine closed in around her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in a private hospital room.

“You’re awake,” Liam said quietly.

She turned her head slowly. He was sitting there with the same commanding posture he’d had that first night.

“Mr. Hayes… why are you here?” Emma asked, her cheeks flushing.

“Ryan’s on vacation,” Liam replied, gaze steady on hers.

“Thank you.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked.

“He passed away yesterday.”

“Huh…” He pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Good news, then.”

Just then, a doctor walked in.

“Here are your stomach pills. Remember to take them on time, Liam,” she said with a smile, then turned to Emma. “And you, young lady, can be discharged tomorrow.”

She was older and clearly familiar with him.

“Got it, Aunt,” he replied, taking the medication.

They chatted by the door for a few minutes before she left.

“Can I be discharged tonight?” Emma asked.

“No.” He sat down on the edge of her bed.

Her gaze drifted to the faint red mark still visible on his left cheek, and her heart lurched. The memory of slapping him flashed back, hot and mortifying.