Chapter 30 This House Was Never Really Hers
"Nicholas, whatever decisions you make, whoever you go public with—I don't care."
Her voice was eerily calm, as if discussing something that had nothing to do with her.
"But please, consider Grandpa's health."
Nicholas's lips curved into a mocking smile.
"Emma, do you actually still think you're a member of the Harrison family? Don't tell me you want me to issue some clarification statement like Grandpa does?"
His tone dripped with premeditated derision.
Emma's expression remained impassive as she looked at the man before her—frighteningly unfamiliar.
"No need. I'm not planning to cling to you. I know my place."
"Good. Starting today, the Harrison family business has nothing to do with you."
He straightened and approached her, forcing her to turn and face him.
"Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp, courthouse steps. Don't be late."
Emma looked up at him. Those eyes that had always held gentle warmth were now cold and distant, showing not the slightest ripple of emotion—let alone heartbreak or reluctance.
"Fine."
Nicholas had prepared a dozen different responses, but they all lodged in his throat.
He hadn't expected her to be so... decisive.
Her reaction was too composed.
She was so composed that it caught him completely off guard.
He'd even imagined various scenarios—her begging, or demanding compensation.
Nicholas remained silent for a long moment before speaking again.
"I know you love Dreamy Garden. I can leave it to you."
Dreamy Garden—their monthly sanctuary, where they'd shared intimate moments. The groundskeeper had told him Emma adored lilies.
So he'd had the entire garden planted with them.
Every variety sourced from around the world, impossibly rare. His lilies bloomed in nine different colors.
Dreamy Garden! The name pierced Emma's heart like a blade, but she clenched her fists and showed not a trace of anger.
Wasn't that the garden he'd specially cultivated for Zoe?
Who was he trying to disgust now?
But since he was so thoughtfully offering it to her, she shouldn't refuse his generous gesture.
She'd take excellent care of his flowers. Besides, she needed to go back anyway—some accounts needed settling.
"Thank you! Then I'll trouble you to move out, Mr. Harrison."
Emma's tone was flat as she turned to leave.
Minutes later, she descended the stairs carrying a modest suitcase.
It held very little—only her personal belongings. When she'd first come to the Harrison family, this was all she'd brought.
She hadn't taken a single piece of jewelry Robert had given her.
Nicholas had never given her anything anyway.
She left decisively, passing through the living room without sparing anyone a glance.
This place that had housed three years of memories seemed to her nothing more than temporary lodging.
It was time to go.
No need for lingering attachments.
As Emma walked through the front door, Charlie hurried to intercept her.
"Ms. Rodriguez, you're leaving?"
"Yes."
Charlie pressed on, "Actually, Mr. Harrison still has hope. This isn't such a big deal—the company has plenty of good products. You could be patient and wait! After all, these things take time."
He felt that as a wife, she should really give her husband some patience.
That would be the greatest encouragement she could offer. He was referring to that three-minute issue.
Emma replied coldly, "I can't wait. Tomorrow morning at nine, remind him about the courthouse."
With that, she left.
They were really getting divorced?
Charlie chased after her for a few steps, urgently calling out, "Ms. Rodriguez, actually, Mr. Harrison does care about you!"
Emma paused, looking at him like he was from another planet.
What had given him the impression that Nicholas cared about her?
Had Nicholas and Zoe's passionate display not been obvious enough? Or was he blind?
If Charlie worked for her, he wouldn't make it past the probationary period!
"Let me show you a video."
Charlie opened the car door and retrieved a tablet, about to pull up the champagne tower footage.
A furious roar thundered down from the second floor, "Charlie, get your ass in here!"
"Coming!" Charlie responded, then turned back to Emma. "Ms. Rodriguez, could you wait just a moment?"
Emma had no interest in wasting time with him. She called for a driver to take her home.
Nicholas stood at the second-floor railing, watching her silhouette disappear through the gates.
That indescribable restlessness in his chest grew heavier.
Emma returned to her apartment.
She dropped her suitcase carelessly by the entrance.
The room felt hollow and empty with just her in it.
Night deepened, and she lay in bed sleepless. Moonlight filtered through the curtain gaps, casting cold, pale streaks across the floor.
She rose and walked to her desk, pulling open the bottom drawer.
Inside lay a yellowed paper airplane.
She carefully lifted it out and gently unfolded it.
The edges were frayed, covered with densely written dates.
The dates began twelve years ago—every single one marking a day they'd met.
She picked up a pen and wrote today's date beside the last entry.
Her fingertips traced over the ink marks as a voice whispered in her heart.
'I'm sorry, but I have to stop here.'
'Even though you still don't remember who I am, I've walked this path for so long and still couldn't reach your side.'
'From now on, you must take care of yourself. May your journey be smooth and blessed.'
'As for me... It's time I found my own path.'
The faint bitterness rising in her throat was quickly suppressed.
She refolded the paper airplane and returned it to the drawer.
Much later, exhaustion finally claimed her, and she fell into deep sleep.
...
After leaving the Harrison Manor, Nicholas found himself driving to Dreamy Garden, as if possessed.
The garden's floral fragrance still perfumed the night air.
He downed glass after glass of whiskey until he felt dizzy, then stumbled upstairs.
He pushed open the master bedroom door. The king-sized bed with its dark linens looked cold and vast.
He collapsed onto it. The mattress was soft, yet he felt no warmth whatsoever.
Closing his eyes, Emma's image floated unbidden through his mind.
For three years, she'd made love with him here, though they only met twice a month.
But each time, he'd exhausted her completely.
Emma's occasional bashful blushes.
Her charming indignation when he teased her.
Her peaceful profile when she read, lost in concentration.
These memories were so vivid that they irritated him.
Was he actually missing her?
Even feeling sad?
Nicholas bolted upright, rubbing his temples.
He must be drunk.
How could he possibly feel this way about Emma?
What he wanted was freedom! To be with Zoe openly and legitimately.
Now he'd achieved that goal, hadn't he?
So why did his heart feel so devastatingly empty?
He stared out at the pitch-black night, questioning himself for the first time.