Chapter 8 008
EMILY
Three Years Later
“Morgan, where are you now?” I asked, phone pressed to my ear while I balanced a sparkly hair clip between my teeth and carefully stepped over a rogue toy car abandoned in the hallway like a booby trap.
“I’m still stuck in traffic, Em. I swear, this jam is personal,” she groaned.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and let out a slow breath. Thirty-five minutes until the gala doors officially opened to investors. My stomach fluttered, equal parts nerves and adrenaline. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just bring Zara with me.”
There was a pause. Long enough that I knew she was choosing her words carefully. When Morgan spoke again, her voice was softer, gentler. “I’m sorry, babe. I know tonight means everything to you. You don’t need a distraction.”
I laughed, light and real, surprising even myself. “She’s not a distraction. She’s the best part of my life. My lucky charm. She’s coming.”
Morgan exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours. “Okay. Tell her Auntie Mo loves her. And Em?” Her voice warmed. “You’ve got this. Sugar Rush is already a monster success. Those investors are going to fall in love with you the same way everyone else does.”
“I hope so,” I said, glancing at the time again, my fingers tapping nervously against the phone. “Love you. Drive safe.”
“Love you more. Call me the second you get a yes.”
I ended the call and turned around.
Zara was watching me with wide, curious eyes, her head tilted just slightly to the side. She had a habit of doing that when she was paying close attention, like she didn’t want to miss a single thing. Those eyes still stole my breath sometimes. So much like her father’s that it felt like looking into the past and the present all at once. A mirror I never quite got used to.
I crouched down in front of her, resting my hands on my knees. “Guess what, princess? Auntie Mo is running late, so you’re coming to a fancy party with Mommy tonight.”
Her entire face lit up. “Yayy!”
She spun in a circle, arms flung wide, then bolted toward her room shouting at the top of her lungs, “I need my princess dress!”
I followed her, laughing, the sound echoing down the hallway. My chest felt warm and full in a way that felt earned. Hard-won. The kind of happiness you didn’t take for granted.
Zara’s room was a soft explosion of pink, lavender, and gold. Everything had its place. Toys lined up neatly on shelves. Stuffed animals arranged just so on the bed. She liked order. Structure. Calm. Just like me.
I pulled the lilac dress from her closet, the one I’d bought “just in case.” Pale tulle layered delicately, with tiny silver stars sewn across the skirt that caught the light when I lifted it.
Her gasp was dramatic and loud. “Mommy! It’s beautiful!”
“So are you,” I said, helping her step into it. I zipped the back carefully, tied the satin bow, then stepped back to take her in.
She twirled, skirt flaring out around her legs. “Do I look like a princess?”
“You look better than any princess I’ve ever seen.”
I fixed her hair into two neat puffs, clipped in the sparkly barrette I’d been holding earlier, and swallowed past the familiar tightness in my throat. Three years old and already commanding a room without even trying. Already owning space like she belonged everywhere she stood.
I slipped into my emerald dress next, the one that hugged my waist and flowed like water when I moved. Red lipstick. Gold hoops. I paused in front of the mirror for a second longer than usual.
The woman staring back at me looked like someone who had survived. Someone who had built Sugar Rush from late-night baking sessions in a tiny apartment kitchen while rocking a newborn in one arm and stirring caramel with the other. Someone who had learned how to be both soft and unbreakable.
Confident. In control. Ready.
“Ready, sweet girl?” I asked, turning to Zara.
She nodded solemnly. “Ready.”
Traffic was kind to us for once, like the universe had decided to give me a small win. I pulled into the hotel parking lot with twelve minutes to spare. I shut off the engine and turned in my seat to look at Zara in the rearview mirror.
“This is a big night, okay?” I said gently. “Lots of grown-ups talking about business.”
She nodded again, very serious. “I won’t disturb Mommy.”
I smiled and reached back to kiss her forehead through the open window. “That’s my girl.”
We walked into the lobby hand in hand. The air smelled like fresh lilies and expensive perfume, polished marble and money. A woman at the welcome desk smiled when she saw us.
“Welcome to the Innovate Forward Gala. Name?”
“Emily Thompson, plus one,” I said, nodding toward Zara.
She checked her tablet and handed me two badges. “You’re all set. Enjoy the evening.”
The ballroom doors opened, and Zara gasped.
“Wow,” she whispered. “This is beautiful.”
It really was. Crystal chandeliers dripped light across white linen tables. Soft jazz floated over quiet conversations. Men in tuxedos. Women in gowns. The low hum of ambition and opportunity vibrating through the room like electricity.
I squeezed Zara’s hand. “It is, isn’t it?”
She looked up at me with so much wonder that my heart squeezed painfully. This. All of this. I was doing it for her.
Then a voice came from behind me. Smooth. Familiar.
“Very beautiful.”
My stomach dropped like I’d missed a step on the stairs.
I turned slowly, every muscle in my body tightening.
Frederick stood there.
Older. Sharper around the edges. The confidence was still there, settled into him like a second skin. He wore a black tuxedo tailored perfectly to his frame, champagne glass loose in his hand like he owned the room. His hair was flecked faintly with silver at the temples now. His eyes still carried that same calculating warmth.
The same slow, knowing smile that used to make my pulse jump and my judgment blur.
Three years vanished in the space between one heartbeat and the next.
“Emily.”
The word landed soft, almost gentle, but it hit me like a fist anyway.
I felt Zara’s fingers tighten around mine. She looked up at the stranger, curious but quiet, her gaze flicking between his face and mine.
I swallowed, forcing my breath to steady. My voice came out calmer than I felt. “Frederick.”