Too Far for Longing

Chapter 4 Trap

　　Christopher Thompson pushed the door open. The hallway outside was totally empty—dead silent. His eyes dropped to a small patch of dirt on the floor, then he caught sight of the flowerpot, which had clearly been moved. His face darkened.

　　Just behind that door, in the next private room—

　　Emily was pressed against the door, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Even after the footsteps faded away, she didn't dare move. Only after what felt like forever did she slowly c***k the door open and make a run for it.

　　By now, the sky had gone completely dark. A cold sweat soaked her back and the alcohol had worn off. She frantically waved down a cab.

　　"Driver, I'm in a rush! Please, as fast as you can!"

　　Whether William would believe her or not wasn't the point. This was life or death—she had to tell him everything!

　　When she arrived home, William wasn't there. She tried calling him, but his phone was off. She even called his office, only to hear from his assistant that he had left hours ago.

　　Emily was a wreck, tossing and turning all night.

　　At dawn, her phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. A wave of dread rushed over her.

　　"Heard it all, huh, sis?"

　　Of course it was him. Her cousin—Christopher.

　　Emily let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, heard bits and pieces of your dirty little secrets."

　　He seemed surprised she didn't deny it, pausing for a beat.

　　"So what if you did? William's probably not going to take your word anyway. I've got proof. I can hand it over."

　　"You really expect me to buy that you're suddenly feeling generous?" she snapped.

　　Her mind raced back to three years ago. Her dad had collapsed from a heart attack in his study. His medicine box? Empty. He died just like that.

　　Christopher, who had always acted like the reliable CEO, made his power move when they were at their most vulnerable. Before she could react, he'd seized total control of the Thompson Group.

　　In a matter of months, he ran the whole company into the ground. Emily had poured all her inheritance trying to save it, but it wasn't enough. Everything her dad built—it vanished.

　　Her mom didn't take it well either. The trauma messed her up mentally. She'd been in a pricey care facility ever since—on William's tab. That alone gave Emily reason to keep enduring it all.

　　"So... you thought it through yet?"

　　Emily came back to reality. "What?"

　　"1069 Brightway Avenue. I'll give you the evidence. Let this be my way of atoning for all the mess I've caused. You know I never meant to tank the company. Without it, I'm out here barely scraping by."

　　Emily sneered. Of all the crap he said, maybe that last part was finally honest.

　　Christopher was a master manipulator. After what he pulled last time, there was no way she could trust him again so easily.

　　But... if she had no proof, William wouldn't believe a word she said.

　　She had no choice.

　　She drove to 1069 Brightway Avenue—a dodgy little workshop that looked like it hadn't seen life in years.

　　Walking in, she saw Christopher slouched on a sofa, surrounded by greasy takeout boxes stacked all over a table. The air reeked like bad leftovers—made her want to gag.

　　"Where's the proof?"

　　"Chill. I've got someone fetching it. It'll be here any minute. Want some water while we wait?"

　　She took the bottle and sipped, clearly annoyed. "How much longer?"

　　"Come on, sis. If there wasn't really any proof, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

　　That fake-innocent question made her roll her eyes. "What, you think I actually wanted to see your face?"

　　Then, suddenly, the room started to spin. Her legs buckled under her.

　　Christopher just grinned like the devil. "Still haven't learned your lesson, have you?"