Chapter 184

Chapter 184
Lilith's POV

I watched Emma splash her hands in the fountain, her delighted giggles carrying across the hotel garden like wind chimes. For a child who'd spent most of her life on a private island in Malibu, even the most ordinary public spaces held endless fascination. Her blonde curls bounced with each excited hop, and her green eyes sparkled with joy.

"Be careful not to get too wet, sweetheart," I called out, though I couldn't bring myself to dampen her enthusiasm. After everything that had happened, Emma deserved every moment of happiness she could find.

Morgan sat beside me on the wrought iron bench, her gaze fixed on Emma with a softness that rarely appeared these days. It was the only time Morgan truly looked like her old self—when she watched Emma.

"So..." I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "You really trust this... Ethan?"

Morgan's shoulders tensed slightly, but her eyes never left Emma. "I do."

I didn't miss the defensive edge in her voice. My instincts screamed that something was off about Ethan Pierce—if that was even his real name. The way he'd appeared in Morgan's life, precisely when she needed allies for her revenge... it seemed too convenient. And the fact that even Jonathan couldn't dig up anything substantial on him set off all my alarm bells.

"I just worry about exposing Emma to him," I admitted. "We don't know who he really is."

Morgan finally turned to me, one eyebrow raised. "You think I'd put Emma in danger?"

"No, of course not." I sighed, watching Emma cup water in her small hands, fascinated by how it slipped through her fingers. "I just have a bad feeling about him that I can't explain."

Three years ago, when Morgan was first imprisoned, Jonathan had wanted to bring Emma to his mansion in Washington. He'd argued that as Emma's grandfather, he had every right to raise her.

"I understand your concern," he'd told me during one of our tense meetings. "But Emma is my granddaughter. I can give her everything."

I'd made a different choice. Despite my initial distrust of Alexander, I helped him hide Emma on a private island he'd purchased under his grandmother Victoria's maiden name. I believed Emma deserved to grow up with her father, even if Alexander wasn't ready to tell Morgan the truth.

The arrangement worked initially. Alexander shifted most of his work online, spending five days a week with us on the island. Emma thrived in the peaceful environment, surrounded by the ocean and protected from the media circus following Morgan's trial.

During those early months, Emma thought I was her mother. I never corrected her—not explicitly. It was easier that way, at least until she was old enough to understand.

As Emma grew more aware, Alexander began mentioning "Emma's mommy" when she could hear. The concept slowly took root in her mind until one day, she asked the question we'd been dreading.

"Where's my real mommy?"

Explaining the truth wasn't easy. Emma cried, confused why her mother wasn't with her. But she was resilient in that way only children can be. Her tears dried when I promised to take her to meet her mother someday.

"You will?" she'd asked, her little face lighting up with hope.

"I promise," I'd told her, sealing a vow I wasn't entirely sure I could keep.

Alexander disagreed with Emma's questions about Morgan. I couldn't tell if he was protecting Emma from the concept of "prison" or if he feared losing Emma if Morgan discovered the truth. I hoped it wasn't the latter, but if I had to choose between Morgan and anyone else, Morgan would always come first.

That's when I began to watch Alexander more carefully.

Jonathan tracked me down eventually. He'd never stopped searching for Emma, and ironically, Alexander's attitude helped Jonathan gain my trust. At least he appeared to be on Morgan's side.

Jonathan had moved Morgan to a state prison in Washington where he had influence. Within months, he transferred her to a wellness recovery center he'd purchased, providing a more comfortable environment.

"I tried to visit her once," he confessed to me, his eyes downcast. "She refused to see me. I didn't push."

Morgan never knew about any of this. But his actions convinced me to consider working with him.

With Jonathan's help, I began visiting Morgan during the two days Alexander wasn't at the island. I'd fly on Jonathan's private jet, spending precious hours at Morgan's side while she stared blankly at walls, barely acknowledging my presence.

A medical team Jonathan hired evaluated Morgan's condition. Their assessment was clear: her body couldn't handle any more significant emotional shocks. Based on that, we decided not to tell her about Emma yet.

Then the miracle happened. Emma and Morgan met by pure chance during one of my visits with Emma to the recovery center. I'd turned away for just a moment, and Emma had wandered into the garden where Morgan sat.

I'd panicked, rushing to find her—only to freeze at the sight before me. Morgan was speaking. After a year of silence, she was talking to Emma, her voice rusty but unmistakable.

That was it. Two strangers meeting in a garden. Yet Morgan loved Emma completely, without knowing she was her daughter. And Emma never mentioned searching for her mother again, as if she'd found what she was looking for without realizing it.

The past year with Morgan and Emma together wasn't easy. Morgan's episodes decreased but didn't disappear entirely. It felt eternal to me—I couldn't imagine the hell Morgan had endured before Emma brought light back into her world.

I believe that without Emma, Morgan could never have recovered enough to return to Hollywood for her revenge. I'd thought that once Morgan officially brought Emma back to Los Angeles with her, and once her condition improved further, we might finally be approaching the time to tell her the truth about Emma.

Then Morgan appeared with Ethan, upending all my careful plans.

Nobody seemed to know who Ethan really was. Even Jonathan, with his extensive connections, couldn't uncover anything. That's why I feared exposing Emma in his presence. Something about him felt wrong, dangerous in ways I couldn't articulate.

"Look at me!" Emma called, breaking through my thoughts. She'd constructed an elaborate pattern of ripples in the fountain water.

"That's beautiful, sweetheart," Morgan called back, her whole face softening.

I watched Morgan watch Emma, and my heart ached. Three years of secrets weighed heavily on me. Alexander kept the truth from Morgan to protect Emma. I kept it to protect Morgan. We'd all made choices we believed were right at the time.

But now, with Morgan stronger and Emma thriving, was it time for the truth?

I glanced at Morgan's phone, knowing Ethan might call at any moment. The wild card in our carefully constructed house of cards.