Chapter 5

Emma

[Two weeks earlier]

Two hours later, I was at the York family mansion on Long Island's Gold Coast, gathering papers from the study when Elizabeth York's voice sliced through the air. Elizabeth was Noah's mother.

"This family doesn't support freeloaders," she said, her elegant figure framed in the doorway. "Especially those who bring no value to the York name."

I straightened my spine, my fingers crumpling the documents I was holding. Breathe, Emma. Just fucking breathe. "I'm just collecting work documents and some personal items, mom."

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "And the million-dollar loan your family still owes us? I assume you'll be returning that as well when you 'collect your items'?"

The reminder of my family's debt—the reason I'd agreed to this arrangement in the first place—hit like a physical blow. My stomach dropped to my feet and a hot flush of shame crept up my neck. I could feel my throat closing, tears threatening to spill over.

"Tell me," Elizabeth continued, her voice dripping with false concern, "have you managed to get pregnant yet? Noah needs an heir, and if you can't provide one, perhaps it's time he married someone more... suitable."

I stood frozen, unable to respond, my nails digging half-moons into my palms as rage and humiliation battled for dominance inside me. Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry in front of this woman.

The sound of heels clicking on marble floors drew both our attention. A familiar blonde figure glided in from the kitchen, her smile dazzling.

"Elizabeth, darling!" she called out affectionately. "I hope you don't mind I let myself in through the back. The chef was just showing me that amazing soufflé recipe."

The sound of that voice made my blood run cold. My entire body went rigid, and for a moment, I thought I might actually pass out. The room tilted sickeningly as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Lucy Manning stood in the doorway, a vision of perfection in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater, with an apron—my apron—tied neatly around her slim waist. Her golden hair cascaded in perfect waves over her shoulders, and her trademark smile—the one that had graced countless magazine covers—was directed at Elizabeth like they were lifelong confidantes.

My stomach dropped to the floor. What the actual fuck was she doing here? And why was she wearing my apron in my husband's family home? I felt my pulse quicken, a cold sweat breaking out across my back as my fingers curled into tight fists at my sides.

"Is this Elizabeth's guest?" Lucy asked sweetly, her blue eyes flickering over me with practiced innocence, as if she had no idea who I was. "I just made some organic vegetable soup. Please, come join us."

The audacity struck me speechless. My throat constricted painfully as rage bubbled up inside me. Lucy knew exactly who I was. We'd been introduced at industry events multiple times over the years. Noah might have kept our marriage private, but Lucy was well aware of my role in his life—both professionally and personally.

"Emma was just leaving," Elizabeth said, her voice dripping with dismissal. "She's here to collect some... papers."

As Lucy moved closer, a familiar scent wafted toward me—jasmine with subtle notes of bergamot. My signature perfume. The one Noah had specially commissioned for me from a boutique perfumer in Paris on our first anniversary. My jaw clenched so hard I could hear my teeth grinding together.

I felt fucking sick. Either this was a cruel coincidence or Lucy was deliberately wearing my scent. Given the calculating look behind her smile, I strongly suspected the latter. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably, and I shoved them into my pockets to hide it.

"Tea, Emma?" Elizabeth gestured toward the silver service on the side table, her voice sharp as a razor. "At least make yourself useful and pour for our guest before you go."

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, forcing myself to move toward the tea service while maintaining what little dignity I had left. My hands trembled so badly I nearly dropped the delicate porcelain cup, the teapot feeling impossibly heavy in my grip.

"So what brings you to the York estate, Lucy?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady while my insides twisted into knots. "I thought you were still in Europe."

"Oh, I just finished my tour," Lucy replied, her voice melodic and practiced. She tossed her perfect hair over one shoulder with practiced ease. "Naturally, I had to come see Elizabeth. She's been such a support to me over the years."

Elizabeth beamed at Lucy, patting her hand affectionately. "Lucy is like the daughter I never had."

The barb wasn't even subtle. I'd spent three goddamn years trying to win this woman's approval, and she hadn't spared me a single kind word. My chest tightened painfully as I fought to keep my expression neutral.

"You know, I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Lucy said, her eyes wide with false innocence. "You're Emma, right? Noah's... colleague?"

My jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth might crack. A hot flush of rage crept up my neck and into my cheeks. "His wife, actually," I snapped, the words coming out sharper than I intended.

"Oh!" Lucy's hand flew to her chest in theatrical surprise. "Of course! I'd forgotten he got married. He never showed me any pictures from the wedding."

Because there weren't any, you manipulative bitch. Our marriage had been a private ceremony at city hall with only Violet, Noah's aunt, present as witness. No celebration. No photographs. Just signatures on paper and a business agreement disguised as a marriage license. My fingernails dug painfully into my palms as I fought to maintain composure.

I handed Lucy her tea, but as our hands made contact, she jerked suddenly. The scalding liquid splashed across her fingers, and she let out a dramatic cry of pain.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, clutching her hand to her chest. "That's burning hot!"

Elizabeth was at her side instantly. "Emma! What the hell were you thinking?" she hissed, her face contorted with rage. "Don't you know Lucy's hands are her instrument? She has a performance at the music awards ceremony next week!"

"I didn't—" I began, my voice cracking as my throat constricted. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it physically hurt.

Elizabeth cut me off with a slicing gesture. "Roberts!" she called sharply, and the family's long-serving butler appeared instantly. "Take Emma to the guest room in the east wing. She's clearly not feeling well enough to be in company."

The east wing. The farthest, most isolated part of the mansion. Where Elizabeth sent those she considered beneath her notice. My eyes stung with unshed tears of humiliation.

"And bring some ice for Lucy's hand immediately," she added, wrapping a protective arm around Lucy's shoulders. "My dear, let me help you to the kitchen. We need to run cold water over that burn right away."