Chapter 250

Emily's POV

I pushed the door open wider. Stefan looked up from his desk, and for a long moment we just stood there, staring at each other across the dimly lit study.

My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.

"Emily—" he started, but I held up my phone.

"Anna sent me a message." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "She said you've been thinking about someone for years. Someone you met a long time ago."

I watched his face carefully. His jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes. Not guilt exactly. More like... recognition. Like he'd been expecting this.

"Let me explain," he said quietly.

"I'm listening."

I walked further into the room, keeping my distance. My hands were shaking slightly, so I gripped the phone tighter to hide it. The baby. I had to stay calm for the baby.

But God, my chest hurt.

Stefan moved around the desk, stopping a few feet away. "When did she contact you?"

"This afternoon." I pulled up the message and turned the screen toward him. "She said you've been holding onto memories of some girl. That you go back to the same place every year because of her."

He read it, his expression darkening. "Anna's trying to manipulate both of us."

"Is she lying?"

The question hung between us. Stefan's eyes met mine, and I saw him weighing his answer. That hesitation—it made my stomach drop.

"No," he finally said. "She's not completely lying."

Oh God.

I pressed my hand against my abdomen, a protective gesture I couldn't help. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. I needed to sit down, but I forced myself to stay standing.

"Tell me about the girl," I said. My voice sounded distant to my own ears. "The one from Saas-Fee."

His eyes widened slightly. "How did you—"

"I was standing outside the door earlier." I gestured toward the hallway. "I heard voices. Someone mentioned a ski resort and 'that girl.'" I paused, my mind already racing. "When did you meet her? When were you there?"

Stefan ran a hand through his hair, and I noticed how exhausted he looked. Lines of stress around his eyes I hadn't seen before.

"It was... about fourteen years ago. My grandmother took me to London for a jewelry exhibition—the Eugins collection. Afterward, we went to Switzerland. To Saas-Fee."

Fourteen years ago.

My breath caught.

I was six years old fourteen years ago. My parents had taken me on a European tour. We'd gone to London for my mother's jewelry show, and then—

And then we'd gone skiing in Switzerland.

"Saas-Fee isn't a difficult resort," I said slowly, thinking out loud. "It's not where serious skiers usually go. The black runs are gentle compared to most places."

Stefan was watching me intently now, his brow furrowed.

I closed my eyes, pulling up memories I hadn't thought about in years. Snow-covered slopes. The sharp cold air. My father's laugh as he filmed me. My mother wrapping a scarf around my neck before we went down the mountain.

"The black diamond run," I murmured. "There was a crowd that day. I remember... I did some tricks. Showed off a little." A ghost of a smile touched my lips. "My dad was always encouraging me to be bold. He said fear was just excitement in disguise."

When I opened my eyes, Stefan had gone very still.

"There weren't many women on that slope," I continued, my heart starting to race again. "Not many who could handle the technical sections." I looked directly at him. "Fourteen years ago. A little girl with a ponytail, probably showing off for the cameras."

His face had gone pale.

"Emily—"

"That girl you've been thinking about," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "The one you went back looking for every year. Was she... was she about six years old?"

Stefan took a step toward me, then stopped. His hands were clenched at his sides. "I didn't know," he said hoarsely. "I never saw her face clearly. She was wearing goggles and a helmet. But she was... she was brilliant on those skis. Fearless. And when she turned to wave at someone, she was smiling like—like nothing in the world could touch her."

My eyes were burning. I blinked hard.

"My parents were filming me that day," I said. "They were so proud. I remember feeling invincible."

That was before everything fell apart. Before they died. Before Richard and Helen and all the years of carefully planned revenge.

"You have to understand," Stefan said urgently, moving closer. He looked almost desperate. "It wasn't—it's not what Anna's trying to make it sound like. A six-year-old child? That's not—" He stopped, struggling for words. "She just... she represented something to me. Something pure. Happy. Free."

"A memory," I said softly.

"A symbol. Of what life could be, maybe. I don't know." He was gripping my hands now, and I realized he was trembling. "But it doesn't matter. It never mattered. Because you're here. You're real. You're my wife, you're carrying our child, and everything I feel for you—God, Emily, it's so far beyond some half-remembered image from my childhood."

I looked down at our joined hands. His were larger, scarred from old wounds I'd never asked about. Mine were smaller, the engagement ring catching the lamplight.

"Before you came into my life," he continued, his voice rough, "I was existing. Going through motions. Playing the role my father wanted, fighting battles I didn't care about. And yes, maybe once a year I'd go back to that ski resort and..." He trailed off. "I was looking for something I'd lost. Some proof that innocence and joy actually existed."

"And now?"

"Now I live for you." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "I wake up wanting to make you smile. I count the hours until I can come home to you. When you tell me you're scared, I want to tear apart whatever's threatening you. When you laugh, I—" His voice broke. "You're not a substitute, Emily. You're the whole point."

My throat was so tight I could barely breathe.

"The girl on that slope," I said quietly. "That girl you never saw clearly, never spoke to..." I paused, making sure he was looking at me. "That was me, Stefan. It was always me."

He went completely still. His grip on my hands tightened almost to the point of pain.

"What?"

"Fourteen years ago. Six years old. The Eugins exhibition in London, then Switzerland. Black diamond slope at Saas-Fee." I watched the realization dawn in his eyes. "I was that fearless little girl. The one you've been carrying around all these years."

The expression on his face—I'd never seen anything like it. Shock, wonder, disbelief, all crashing together. His mouth opened but no sound came out.

"Stefan," I said gently, and his eyes snapped to mine. They were bright with unshed tears.

"You," he managed. "It was you?"

I nodded.

"All this time," he whispered. "I thought—I've been searching for—" He broke off, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "And you were right here."

"I was right here," I confirmed softly.

He pulled me into his arms then, holding me so tightly I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. His face was buried in my hair, and his whole body was shaking.

"It was always you," he murmured against my ear. "From the very beginning. Even before I knew you. It was always you."

I wrapped my arms around him and held on, feeling the last of my doubt dissolve. Anna had tried to drive a wedge between us, tried to make me believe I was second choice.

But she was wrong.

I wasn't his second choice.

I was his only choice.

I always had been.