Chapter 256

Chapter 256
Emma

Three days had passed since we'd returned to our city apartment with Mike. The transition from hospital to home hadn't been smooth—nights punctuated by crying, days filled with uncertainty—but somehow we were finding our rhythm as new parents. I was still healing, my body reminding me of its recent trauma whenever I moved too quickly, but the miracle of having our son safely home overshadowed everything else.

I was folding tiny onesies in the nursery when my phone vibrated on the changing table. Marcus's name flashed across the screen, sending a flutter of anxiety through my chest.

"I need some air," I murmured to Noah, who was meticulously organizing baby supplies with the same precision he probably applied to multimillion-dollar contracts, his forehead creased in concentration.

He glanced up sharply, eyes immediately assessing my expression. "Everything okay?" His voice dropped low, concern etched across his features.

I nodded, already moving toward the balcony, my fingers trembling slightly as I slid the door closed behind me.

"Marcus? Is something wrong?" My fingers gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white, bracing for bad news.

"Emma," his voice was steady but carried a weight I'd come to recognize. "I've made a decision. I'm staying with him—with our father."

My breath caught audibly. "What? Why would you—" I pressed my palm against the cool glass of the balcony door, steadying myself.

"I'm not going to let him go back to that poison research," Marcus interrupted, determination hardening his tone. He sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the connection. "Someone needs to watch him, and it should be me."

I gripped the railing, the metal cold beneath my fingers as a breeze lifted my hair. "Are you sure that's safe?" My voice dropped to a whisper, as though speaking the words too loudly might make the danger more real.

"No," he admitted with a dry laugh that held no humor. "But I've been doing this a long time, Emma." There was a pause, the silence heavy with unspoken history. "And it's time to end it all." His voice dropped lower, almost confessional. "I'm working with the authorities now. We're dismantling the entire organization. It's time for closure—for all of us."

Tears stung my eyes as the full implication hit me. The brother I'd only recently discovered was putting himself at risk to protect me—to protect all of us.

"Marcus, I..." my voice cracked embarrassingly, and I cleared my throat, blinking rapidly. "Thank you doesn't seem like enough."

"It is," he said simply, his voice softening. "Be happy, Emma. That's all I need."

When I returned inside, I found Noah watching me intently, Mike cradled against his chest, his large hand supporting our son's tiny head with surprising gentleness. His eyes tracked my movement, reading every nuance of my expression.

"Marcus is staying with our father," I said, wrapping my arms around myself, my voice catching slightly. "He's going to make sure the poison research stops for good. And he's helping the police take down the organization."

Noah's eyebrows rose, his mouth softening with respect. "That's a brave choice," he said quietly, gently shifting Mike to his other arm. "Not many would make it."

"It is," I agreed, moving closer to touch Mike's downy head, my finger tracing the curve of his perfect little ear. "I just hope he'll be safe." I couldn't keep the tremor from my voice.

Noah shifted our son to one arm, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek I hadn't realized was there. His touch lingered, warm against my skin. "Your brother has survived this long. Don't underestimate him," he murmured, his eyes holding mine. "He's proven himself stronger than most."

The next morning, Noah dressed for work with reluctance, checking on Mike three times before finally heading for the door. His tie perfectly knotted as always, but something in the set of his shoulders betrayed his anxiety.

"Call me if anything changes—anything at all," he insisted, hesitating with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at me with naked worry in his eyes. His fingers tapped restlessly against the wood. "I can be home in fifteen minutes."

"We'll be fine," I assured him, secretly touched by his concern. I crossed the room to straighten his already-perfect tie, using the gesture as an excuse to stand close to him. "Your assistant will never forgive me if I make you miss another meeting."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, the corners of his mouth tight with tension. "Parker understands priorities," he said, leaning forward to press his lips against my forehead, lingering there a moment longer than necessary. "You and Mike come first. Always."

Hours later, my phone chimed with a message from Noah: [Meeting Edward. Don't wait up.]

I frowned, rereading the terse message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Noah rarely mentioned his father, and never with anything approaching warmth. My stomach twisted with apprehension as I imagined the confrontation brewing.

It was past midnight when I heard the apartment door open. Noah moved through the darkened space with quiet familiarity, pausing at the nursery door before finding me in the living room, still awake. The shadows under his eyes spoke of exhaustion, but there was something else there—a resolve I hadn't seen before.

"You should be sleeping," he chided gently, a bouquet of white lilies in his hand. His tie was loosened, hair slightly disheveled as though he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly—a habit he only indulged in times of stress.

"So should you," I countered, eyeing the flowers, then looking up to meet his gaze. "What happened with Edward?" I patted the couch beside me, inviting him closer.

Noah's jaw tightened momentarily, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. He set the flowers on the coffee table before sinking onto the couch beside me, his body heavy with fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as if measuring his words.

"He was waiting in the conference room when I arrived," he said, voice carefully neutral, though his fingers curled into a fist on his thigh. "Parker tried to warn me, but Edward insisted it was 'family business.'" His mouth twisted on the words, bitter and sharp.

"What did he want?" I asked, reaching for his hand, gently uncurling his fingers to interlace them with mine.

"To tell me I'm not really part of the family," Noah said flatly, though I caught the flicker of old pain in his eyes, quickly masked. His shoulders rose and fell in a deliberate shrug. "His exact words were: 'You don't belong in this family.'" He gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "As if I didn't already know how he felt."

My fingers tightened around his, feeling the subtle tremor he was trying to hide. "Noah..." I began, searching for words that wouldn't sound empty.