Chapter 173
Lena's POV
Emily gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze. "You have a whole chosen family now, Lena. People who see you, who value you for exactly who you are. So yes, envy Lily for having Maria. But also recognize that you've built something just as precious—a network of people who would fight for you the way Maria fought for her daughter. Including, whether you want to admit it or not, a certain infuriating man who's currently driving himself insane trying to protect you while respecting your boundaries."
I couldn't help the small, watery laugh that escaped at that last part. "You're relentless, you know that?"
"It's one of my most endearing qualities," she said with a grin, finally releasing me from the hug but keeping one hand linked with mine. "So? Are we okay? Can you accept that you deserve to be loved and protected, even if your biological parents never figured out how?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice for a moment. When I finally spoke, it came out barely above a whisper. "Thank you. For always being here. For not letting me disappear into my own head."
"Always," she said simply, and the single word carried the weight of a vow.
The rest of the drive passed more easily, the heavy emotions giving way to a lighter companionship. Emily started talking about a new client at work, a CEO going through a particularly messy divorce who kept trying to weaponize his therapy sessions. I found myself genuinely laughing at her impression of the man's attempts to manipulate her into providing ammunition for his legal team.
By the time David pulled up in front of my building, the knot of tension in my chest had loosened considerably. The city lights sparkled against the darkening sky, and there was something almost peaceful about the familiar sight of home.
"Want to come up?" I asked Emily as we gathered our things. "I think Martha left ingredients for dinner, and we could open that bottle of wine you've been threatening to bring over for weeks."
"God, yes," Emily said immediately. "I need to decompress after today, and wine with my best friend sounds perfect."
We climbed out of the car, and I turned to thank David for the long day. He nodded professionally, but there was something slightly off about his expression—a flicker of something in his eyes that might have been amusement or anticipation. I frowned slightly, but before I could analyze it further, Emily was tugging at my sleeve.
"Come on," she said, her voice bright. "I'm starving, and I want to hear more about how you're planning to approach Diana about all this."
I let her pull me toward the building entrance, David's odd expression already forgotten in the easy flow of conversation. We rode the elevator up discussing the best way to frame the information for Diana, debating whether it would be better to tell her in person or give her time to process the written report first.
"In person," Emily insisted as we reached my floor. "She deserves to hear it from you directly, to see that you understand the weight of what you're telling her."
"You're probably right," I agreed, fishing my keys out of my bag as we approached my door. "I'll visit her tomorrow, after I've had time to organize my thoughts properly."
The hallway was quiet, the soft lighting casting familiar shadows across the walls. I fitted the key into the lock, already mentally running through the conversation I'd need to have with Diana, planning how to balance honesty with compassion.
The door swung open to darkness and silence. I paused in the doorway, surprised. Usually when I came home this time of evening, Martha would still be here, putting finishing touches on dinner or tidying up the kitchen. But the apartment felt empty, the air still and undisturbed.
"Martha must have stepped out," I murmured, more to myself than to Emily. "That's odd. She usually lets me know if she's going to leave early."
"Maybe she had an emergency?" Emily suggested from behind me, though her tone was strangely casual, almost studied in its normalcy. "Or she just assumed you'd be later and decided to head home."
"Maybe," I agreed, though something about the stillness felt deliberate rather than accidental. I shook off the vague unease—I was probably just reading too much into things after the emotional intensity of the day.
We stepped inside, and I flipped on the entryway light, the familiar space materializing around us in warm tones. I set my bag down on the console table and kicked off my shoes, already feeling some of the day's tension bleeding away now that I was home. Emily followed suit, chattering about the wine selection and whether we should go with red or white.
"Let's see what Martha left us to work with first," I said, heading toward the living room. "Then we can decide on pairing."
I reached for the light switch just inside the living room doorway, my fingers finding the familiar toggle in the darkness. The soft click seemed louder than usual in the quiet apartment, and for a fraction of a second before the light came on, I had the strangest sensation—as if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then the lights flooded on, and I froze completely, my hand still on the switch, my entire body going rigid with shock as my brain struggled to process what I was seeing.