Chapter 99 099
EMILY
“She can’t be dead,” Mom said again, her voice cracking. “She—she was just—she came to us—she told us—”
“She’s dead,” I repeated.
That did it.
Something in her snapped.
A sharp sob tore out of her chest, and she covered her face, her shoulders shaking.
“Oh my God…” she cried. “Oh my God…”
I stood there, frozen.
Not knowing whether to comfort her or stay where I was since I was mad myself.
“She took you from me,” she said suddenly, dropping her hands.
Her eyes were red now. Wet. Furious.
“She stole you,” she added, her voice rising. “She made me suffer for years—years, Emily—and she said nothing?”
“Stop.”
She froze.
I hadn’t meant to say it that fast.
But it came out anyway.
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
Her brows pulled together.
“Emily—”
“You don’t know her,” I said. “You don’t get to stand there and—”
“She kidnapped you!” she snapped. “She took my child!”
“And she raised me!”
The words came out louder than I expected.
We both stopped.
Breathing hard.
“She was there,” I continued, my voice shaking now. “She was the one who stayed. She was the one who took care of me when I was sick. She was the one who—”
My throat tightened.
I looked down at the picture.
“She was all I had.”
The anger drained out of me just as quickly as it came.
Leaving something heavier.
Quieter.
My mom’s expression shifted.
Not softer.
Just… different.
“She lied to you,” she said.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know if I disagreed.
“She built your whole life on a lie,” she added.
My grip tightened on the picture.
“That doesn’t erase everything,” I said.
“No,” she agreed. “But it changes it.”
That hit.
Harder than I expected.
I looked away.
Because suddenly, my head was filling with things I hadn’t questioned before.
We moved a lot.
Too much.
Different houses. Different streets.
Different people.
“Why did you move so much?” my mom asked quietly.
I frowned slightly.
“She said it was for work.”
“And you believed that?”
I hesitated.
“…yes.”
She didn’t say anything.
Just watched me.
Waiting.
“She didn’t like people asking questions,” I added slowly. “If anyone got too curious… we left.”
The words felt strange now.
Like I was hearing them for the first time.
My chest tightened.
“She was scared,” I said.
But even as I said it—
I wasn’t sure.
My mom took a step closer.
“You said she was a nurse.”
I nodded.
“And she found us thirteen years ago.”
My eyes snapped to hers.
“Yes.”
“She told us you were alive,” my mom continued. “She knew where you were.”
I went still. I was trying hard not to believe what’s in front of me.
“She knew…” I repeated.
My thoughts started moving too fast.
“She came to you,” I said. “She told you about me…”
“And then she went back to you, do you believe me now? my mom finished.
Silence.
But this time—
It wasn’t empty.
It was heavy.
Full of something neither of us wanted to say.
“If she knew where I was…” I started.
But I stopped.
Because I already knew.
My mom said it anyway.
“Why didn’t she bring you back?”
The question hit like something solid.
Something real.
I shook my head slightly.
“No…”
But the answer was already there.
“She chose not to,” I whispered.
My chest tightened.
“She knew,” I said again. “And she kept me anyway.”
The room felt smaller.
Harder to breathe in.
I took a step back.
Then another.
“No… that doesn’t make sense…”
But it did.
Too much
And that was the problem.
I turned away from her, trying to steady my breathing—
And my eyes landed on the stairs.
Upstairs.
Where Zara was.
Sleeping.
My stomach dropped.
Taken.
The thought came out of nowhere.
Sharp.
Clear.
I was taken.
Zara was taken.
I frowned.
“No…”
“Emily?” my mom said.
But I wasn’t looking at her.
I was still staring upstairs.
What if it wasn’t random?
The thought slipped in before I could stop it. no.
What if—
No.
I shook my head quickly.
“That’s not… no.”
I turned back to her.
“I need to leave.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I can’t stay here,” I said. “Not right now.”
She searched my face.
“Emily—”
“I’ll go with you,” I cut in. “To Hong Kong.”
The words came fast.
But once they were out—
They felt right.
Or at least necessary.
She stared at me.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Are you sure?”
“No,” I said honestly.
Then I exhaled.
“But I’m going anyway.”
Her expression softened slightly.
Not relief.
Not fully.
But something close.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
We stayed up most of the night after that.
She talked.
About things I didn’t remember.
Stories I wasn’t part of.
Small details that were supposed to mean something.
I listened.
Sometimes.
Other times, I just watched her.
Trying to see something familiar.
But there wasn’t much.
I didn’t tell her everything.
Not about Ryan.
Not about how messy my life already was.
Not about Cecilia.
And she didn’t ask.
Not about Zara.
Not about why I was raising a child alone.
It was like we both knew—
There were things we weren’t ready to touch yet.
She left early the next morning.
No long goodbye.
Just a quiet one.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said.
I nodded.
And that was it.
The next day, I stood in my room, staring at the suitcase on my bed.
Clothes everywhere.
Mine.
Zara’s.
I folded them one by one.
Slowly.
One week.
That’s what she said.
Just one week with the grandmother.
A soft knock came from the door.
Morgan leaned against the frame.
“You’re really going.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
She stepped inside.
“Are you sure?”
I paused.
Then shook my head.
“No.”
Her brows furrowed slightly.
“But I need to,” I added.
She studied me.
Then nodded.
“I get it.”
I gave a small shrug.
“This place hasn’t been good to me.”
“That’s one way to put it,” she said quietly.
She walked over and pulled me into a hug.
“Just be careful, okay?”
Something about the way she said it made me pause.
“I will.”
I hoped that was true.
Zara was still asleep when I checked on her.
I stood by the door for a moment, watching her.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
“You’re safe,” I whispered.
The words came out automatically.
But they didn’t feel as solid as they used to.
I stayed there a second longer.
Then turned away.
The car arrived just before noon.
A black car.
Out of place.
The driver stepped out and took the bags.
Then opened the door for me.
“Where to, ma’am?”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
“To the mansion.”
The words felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
But I said them anyway.
“To my parents’ mansion.”
The driver nodded.
“Of course.”
I got in, holding Zara close.
As the door shut and the car pulled away, I looked out the window.
At the house.
At everything I was leaving behind.