Chapter 154 154

Chapter 154 154
RYAN

The moment Emily disappeared through the front doors of the station, the strange weight that had settled over my chest refused to leave.

For weeks, I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw her again, convincing myself there would be anger, accusations, and questions neither of us wanted to answer. 

Instead, all it had taken was one look at her tear-filled eyes for everything I'd rehearsed to disappear, leaving me standing in the middle of a police station feeling more confused than I had in years.

I barely had enough time to gather my thoughts before Miranda's voice called after me, making me stop in the middle of the corridor. I closed my eyes for a brief second, already knowing another confrontation was coming, then slowly turned around to find her staring at me with an expression that hovered somewhere between anger and disbelief.

"Ryan..."

"What now?" I asked, my patience already running dangerously thin.

She folded her arms before absentmindedly resting one hand over her stomach, almost as though she wanted to remind me of the pregnancy she had been clinging to ever since she announced it.

"I can't believe you embarrassed me like that."

I frowned, genuinely confused by what she expected me to apologize for.

"Embarrassed you?"

"You hugged your ex-wife right in front of me."

"My wife," I corrected without raising my voice, refusing to let her rewrite the truth simply because it suited her. "Emily will always be my wife."

Miranda rolled her eyes dramatically before letting out a sarcastic laugh.

"You know exactly what I meant."

"No," I replied evenly. "I know exactly what you meant, and that's the problem."

For a brief moment, neither of us spoke. People continued walking past us in the corridor, but neither of us paid them any attention because the conversation had already become far more personal than either of us intended.

I drew in a slow breath before looking directly into her eyes.

"Don't ever do that again."

Her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise.

"Do what?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile that held more arrogance than amusement. "Save you from falling back into your old mistakes?"

I started walking toward her, saying nothing else.

Whatever certainty she had been holding onto disappeared almost immediately because she instinctively stepped backward the moment I closed the distance between us. She kept retreating with every step I took until her back finally met the wall behind her, leaving nowhere else for her to go.

She was scared of whatever look  had on right now.

I lowered my voice until it was barely above a whisper, making sure every word landed exactly where I intended.

"You keep trying me, Miranda," I said steadily, never once breaking eye contact. "You keep pushing your luck, and if you don't stop, one day you're going to discover you've pushed far beyond the point where I can pretend none of this is happening."

The color drained slightly from her face, but she refused to look away.

Instead, she forced another smile that wasn't nearly as convincing as the ones she'd worn before.

"I was only trying to help."

"I never asked for your help."

The silence that followed felt heavier than the argument itself.

There was nothing left for me to say, and judging by the way she stood frozen against the wall, she finally understood that I wasn't interested in continuing the conversation. 

I shook my head once before turning my back on her.

Without another glance in her direction, I walked down the corridor toward my father and Miss Jones, leaving Miranda exactly where she stood while the echo of our conversation faded into the noise of the busy police station.

I had barely reached the end of the hallway when I noticed my father approaching alongside Miss Jones, our family lawyer.

Dad looked older than he had that morning.

His shoulders looked heavier, and the exhaustion etched across his face reminded me that whatever was happening inside this station wasn't tearing my world apart alone. It was tearing through my father's as well, and judging by the quiet expression he wore, he had already begun preparing himself for answers neither of us wanted to hear.

Miss Jones offered me a polite nod before stopping beside him, the leather folder tucked neatly beneath her arm making it painfully obvious she had already been briefed on everything unfolding behind the interrogation room doors.

"Mr. Thompson," she greeted professionally.

"Miss Jones," I replied, looking from her to my father. 

"I've just finished discussing the current situation with your father," she explained, her voice calm despite the seriousness written all over her face. "I think it's only fair that you understand where things currently stand before anything progresses further."

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I searched both their faces for some kind of reassurance, but neither of them looked capable of offering it.

"What exactly is going on?"

Miss Jones drew a slow breath before answering.

"The investigation involves several allegations that are said to span many years, and based on the material that has been presented so far, the investigators believe they have gathered substantial evidence to support continuing their inquiries."

I frowned, struggling to follow what she was saying.

"What allegations? Be blunt, please."

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, her eyes drifted toward my father as though asking for permission to continue. Dad remained silent for a moment before giving her a small nod, silently confirming that I deserved to hear the truth, however difficult it might be.

"The matters being investigated include questions surrounding financial transactions, business dealings, and allegations concerning events that allegedly took place many years ago," she said carefully. "There are also claims relating to the identity and exchange of a child shortly after birth."

Every sentence only made the situation more confusing.

I stared at her, hoping she would finally say something that made sense.

"I don't understand," I admitted quietly. "Who are they talking about?"

My father slowly stepped forward, and the sadness in his eyes made my chest tighten before he had even spoken.

"Ryan..."

I looked at him.

"They're talking about Emily."

For a moment, I honestly believed I'd misheard him.

"What?"

Dad swallowed before continuing, every word sounding heavier than the last.

"They're saying that Emily may not have grown up with the family she was born into because your mother allegedly took her away as a baby, and that's one of the central issues the investigators are now looking into."