Chapter 43
Emily Windsor's POV
Listening to the pleading voice on the phone, my first instinct was to hang up, but reason held me back.
"We have nothing to talk about." My voice was ice-cold, devoid of warmth.
The runaway truck in Preston District—that massive shadow that nearly crushed me—was still burned into my memory with crystal clarity.
My hatred for the Lowe Family ran deeper than the ocean.
"Emily, I know you hate me. Hate my family." Lawrence's voice had none of its former arrogance—just exhaustion and a gravelly rasp, like a wounded beast with its fangs pulled. "But this concerns Luke. And the people around you. I'm begging you—just give me ten minutes."
Begging me?
I almost laughed out loud.
What made him think that after I'd nearly died at his family's hands, a hollow "please" could make me forget everything?
"I refuse." Each word came out sharp and clear. "Mr. Lowe, what you should be doing right now isn't calling me—it's finding yourself a good lawyer to plan a decent funeral for you and your crumbling empire."
I moved to end the call.
"Wait!" He anticipated my move, his voice spiking with urgency. "Emily, do you really think you've won? Do you honestly believe you can protect everyone around you?"
My finger froze. A cold premonition crept through my chest.
"That friend of yours. Jade." Lawrence's voice turned serpentine—slick and cold. "She was quite the brave little thing in Preston District, wasn't she? David was a useless piece of shit, but he did leave me something... interesting."
My breath caught in my throat.
I knew Lawrence wouldn't have called without leverage!
"To blend in at the waste processing area—to get close to those drugged workers—she used a little something herself, didn't she? Just a small dose. But that 'something' happens to be a Schedule I controlled substance under federal law."
A roar filled my ears like a snapped wire vibrating wildly inside my skull.
I hadn't known.
The situation had been dire. To get that critical evidence, Jade had secretly taken those drugs to mimic the workers' condition—allowing her to film Sawyer's men destroying documents without raising suspicion.
It was something that caused mental fog and dilated pupils in minutes—a tiny amount. No wonder Jade had been so sick afterward for an entire day.
Crushing guilt swallowed me whole.
"A promising young woman with a drug abuse record on her permanent file." Each of Lawrence's words hammered into my chest. "Emily, tell me—what happens if I leak this to the media and the bar association, along with David's proof of how she obtained the drugs? Her life is over. Destroyed. All that justice you fought so hard for—paid for with your best friend's future. Does that sound like a fair trade to you?"
My knuckles turned white around my phone. My blood felt frozen in my veins.
Despicable. Vile.
Jade had been deceived by that bastard David, nearly had her work stolen, then followed me into the lion's den.
She'd grown from someone who needed protecting into a warrior who could stand beside me.
How could I let her carry this burden—ruin her bright future—because of me?
I couldn't.
"What do you want?" My voice came out raw and scratchy, each word dragged from my throat.
Lawrence let out a satisfied chuckle. "The abandoned St. Mary's Church on the east side. I'll be waiting—alone. You show up, we talk. You don't, and in thirty minutes your friend's drug problem becomes front-page news across New York."
He paused, then added, "Don't think about telling Luke. Don't try anything clever. Emily, your friend's future is in your hands now."
The line went dead.
I stood by the window, staring at the overcast sky, feeling bone-deep cold surge from my feet to my skull.
It felt like I was holding Jade's entire future in my fist—so heavy I could barely breathe.
"Emily, who was that?" Jade's voice came from behind me. She walked over with a mug of hot cocoa, concern filling her eyes when she saw my rigid posture. "What's wrong? You look awful."
I snapped back to reality, quickly masking everything. I turned and forced a smile. "Nothing. Just a spam call."
I took the mug from her. Warmth radiated from the ceramic, but it couldn't touch the ice in my chest.
I couldn't meet her eyes—afraid she'd see the anguish tearing me apart.
"Hey Jade," I looked down, affecting casualness. "Carl just texted. Something's off with the Kingsley settlement paperwork. Could you handle it? It's kind of urgent."
"Right now?" Jade checked the time. "Okay, I'll head over."
She didn't question it. She immediately set everything down, grabbed her coat and bag, and headed for the door.
At the door, she turned back, worry still etched on her face. "Get some rest, okay? Stop thinking about the case. We won. I'll bring back pizza from your favorite place tonight."
"Sounds good." I smiled at her. My heart bled.
'I'm sorry, Jade.'
The door clicked shut. The apartment fell silent around me.
I couldn't tell Luke.
Lawrence's warning aside, this was my mess. I couldn't drag Luke deeper into this nightmare. He'd already done more than enough.
This was my war with the Lowe Family. My battlefield to face alone.
I took a deep breath, changed into the simplest, most inconspicuous clothes I had, grabbed my car keys, and left the apartment.
What I didn't know was that shortly after I left, Jade—who was supposed to be heading to the office—emerged from around the corner of the building. She watched my car disappear into the distance.
East side. St. Mary's Church.
I parked outside the derelict church. The iron gates were caked with rust, strangled by dead vines. Gothic spires stabbed upward into the overcast sky like black daggers.
I pushed open the car door. Cold wind thick with the smell of rotting leaves hit me in the face. I shivered.
This place matched my mood perfectly—desolate, frigid, lightless.
Inside, the church was cavernous and crumbling. Most of the stained glass had shattered. Light spilled through the broken windows in fractured beams, illuminating swirling dust.
Lawrence stood with his back to me before the altar, shoulders slumped—none of his former swagger remained.
He turned slowly at the sound of my footsteps.
It had only been a few days, but he looked drained—dark circles heavy under his eyes, his expensive suit wrinkled and hanging loose. Those eyes that once brimmed with arrogance now held only exhaustion and bloodshot fatigue.
"You came." His voice was hoarse.
I didn't move closer. I stared at him coldly from several yards away. "What do you want to talk about?"
He forced a smile more grotesque than crying. "Emily, I underestimated you. Underestimated Luke." He took two steps forward. "I know what my family did to you was unforgivable. I accept defeat. Get Luke to back off. If he stops, the Lowe Family will hand over that property on the west side—plus twenty percent of Everprosper Global Capital's shares. Consider it our apology."