Chapter 8.
1633 Words
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Instead, her thoughts drifted to her mother, lying fragile in her hospital bed miles away, depending on Damian’s money for her treatments. To her younger brother, still in school, his future hanging on Damian’s support.
If she walked away now, if she raised her voice, if she even dared to fight back she would be cutting her family’s lifeline.
She pressed her hands against her face, sobs shaking out of her in silence. The hospital walls didn’t care. Marcus, waiting outside the door, didn’t care. And Damian...
Damian was with Clara.
Emery lay back against the stiff hospital bed, staring at the ceiling through blurred eyes. Her body ached, her arm throbbed, her heart felt shattered into unfixable pieces.
But worst of all was the truth that pressed down on her like stone:
She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t even scream.
Because her mother and brother needed her to endure.
The tears finally slipped free, rolling hot against her cheeks. She whispered into the dark, voice hoarse and breaking:
“I have nowhere else to go.”
And the silence swallowed her whole.
……………
The sterile light of the hospital room woke Emery before her body was ready. Her arm throbbed in its bandages, every movement reminding her of the night before the shattering chandelier, the gasps, the sting of glass against her skin.
And Damian walked past her.
She blinked against the morning haze, hoping, foolishly, that the first thing she’d see would be him...maybe standing by the window, maybe even pretending to care.
But the chair in the corner was empty.
The door clicked open, and for half a breath, her heart leapt. But it wasn’t him. It was Marcus.
He stepped inside, his posture as rigid as always, his voice flat.
“Mr. Cole instructed me to bring you back to the mansion. You’ll be discharged this morning.”
Just like that. Instructions. Orders. Not a word of care.
Emery swallowed hard and nodded. “Right.”
The nurse arrived shortly after, removing her IV and handing her a set of papers to sign. Emery’s signature wobbled slightly, her fingers weak, but she forced herself steady. She wouldn’t let anyone see how broken she felt inside.
She was gathering her small belongings when the sound of clicking heels echoed down the hall. A perfume of jasmine and expensive silk swept into the room before the woman even appeared.
Clara.
She was flawless, as always, despite the thin white bandage wrapped elegantly around her thigh. Her gown was designer, her hair perfectly styled, her lips painted in a shade of victory red.
“Oh,” Clara purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You’re awake. Good. I was worried you might have … lingered too long here.”
Emery stiffened, her chest tightening. She didn’t respond, focusing instead on adjusting the sleeve of her blouse to hide her bandages.
Clara’s smile widened. “You should thank me, really. If Damian hadn’t been there for me, who knows what might have happened last night? He stayed with me the whole time. Didn’t leave my side.”
The words were sharp, each one twisting deeper than the cut on Emery’s arm.
Clara stepped closer, her heels clicking against the sterile floor. She leaned down, her perfume suffocating, her words a poisonous whisper.
“You’re just a placeholder, Emery. A name on paper. He’ll never bleed for you.”
Emery froze, her throat burning with words she couldn’t say. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to push Clara away. But all she could do was clutch her bag tighter, her silence speaking louder than any retort.
Clara straightened, satisfied with the devastation she’d left behind. She adjusted her silk sleeve and smirked. “See you soon, Mrs. Cole.”
And with that, she glided out, leaving the scent of victory in her wake.
The Mansion
The ride back was silent, Marcus as unreadable as ever. Emery kept her eyes on the window, watching the city blur by. The world outside lived freely, while she returned to her gilded prison.
When they reached the mansion, she walked slowly through the grand halls, each step echoing like a reminder of her isolation. She finally found him in his study, sunlight streaming across polished mahogany and shelves lined with leather-bound books.
Damian was seated behind his desk, papers spread before him, his suit flawless, his attention fixed on the world that mattered more than her.
Emery hesitated in the doorway, her bandaged arm heavy at her side. She gathered every fragment of courage left in her chest.
“Why?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it trembled with rawness.
“Why did you leave me there?”
For a moment, she thought he might look up, might see her, might give her even the smallest thread of humanity.
But Damian didn’t lift his gaze. His pen scratched across the paper as if she were nothing more than background noise.
“You were fine,” he said coldly. “I had more important matters to handle.”
Her breath caught, sharp and painful. More important. Clara.
Her hands shook at her sides, nails biting into her palms, but she forced herself not to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.
Finally, he looked up, his eyes a glacier locking onto hers. “Learn your place, Emery.”
The words struck harder than any wound. Her place. A contract. A pawn. A prisoner.
She turned away before he could see her break, walking back into the endless halls of the mansion, her steps echoing in the emptiness.
In her room, the silence wrapped around her like chains. Her phone buzzed with more headlines, more photos, more lies. She ignored them, lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her arm throbbed, her chest ached, but nothing hurt more than the truth that sat heavy in her heart:
Damian Cole would never choose her.
.
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The rain tapped softly against the window that morning, but the storm in Emery’s chest was louder than any weather. She sat on the edge of her bed, her stitched arm resting on her lap, the phone clutched tightly in her trembling hand. For hours, she had avoided calling the hospital. She was afraid of what her mother might say—afraid of the questions, the disappointment, the truth.
But silence weighed heavier than fear.
With a shaky breath, she pressed the call button.
The line clicked, and after a few moments, her mother’s soft, fragile voice filled her ear. “Emery?”
Her throat tightened instantly. “Mom,” she whispered, trying to sound steady. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m… I’m alright.” Her mother coughed lightly, the sound weak but trying to be brave. Then, after a pause that stretched too long: “But Emery… are you alright?”
Emery froze.
Her mother’s voice cracked, low and hesitant. “I saw the news, sweetheart. I saw the photographs. Damian… he carried another woman.”
The words sliced through her like glass. Emery’s grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles whitened.
“Mom,” she forced a laugh, thin and brittle, “you know how the media twists things. It’s not what it looked like.”
Her mother didn’t reply right away, but Emery could hear the quiet sigh, the unspoken knowing. A mother always knew when her child was lying.
“You don’t have to protect me from the truth,” her mother whispered. “But promise me, Emery… promise me you’re not suffering alone.”
Emery blinked rapidly, the tears burning her eyes. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, forcing her voice into steadiness. “I promise. I’m okay, Mom. Don’t think about me just focus on getting stronger, please.”
There was a shuffle, and then a younger, brighter voice broke through the line. “Emery!”
Her brother.
Emery’s heart squeezed painfully as her little brother’s laughter filled the silence. “Emery, guess what? I scored the highest in math this week! The teacher even said I could be an engineer someday.”
A broken smile tugged at her lips. “That’s amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
His excitement bubbled through, spilling stories about school, games, and friends. Emery clung to every word, soaking in his innocence, his light. For a moment, it made her forget the chains around her wrists.
But then the doctor’s voice came faintly through the background, speaking to her mother. Something about extending her stay in the hospital. Treatment taking longer. More observation.
Her mother’s voice returned, softer, hesitant.
“Emery… with me here, your brother.....he needs somewhere safe. I’ve been thinking… maybe he should come stay with you. At least then I’ll know he’s close, that he’s not alone.”
Emery’s pulse stuttered. Her eyes flicked to the grand walls of the Cole mansion, its silence like a tomb, its halls echoing with secrets and cruelty.
Her brother? Here?
“Mom…” her voice cracked. “I don’t know if that’s—”
“Please.” Her mother’s plea was heavy with desperation.
“It will give me peace of mind. I can’t focus on my treatment knowing he’s… drifting. You can look after him. Keep him safe.”
Emery’s lips trembled. She wanted to scream, Safe? Nothing is safe in this house. But she couldn’t burden her mother with that truth.
So she swallowed the terror and whispered, “Alright. He can stay with me.”
Her mother exhaled in relief.
“Thank you, Emery. You’re stronger than you think.”
The call ended, leaving Emery staring blankly at her phone, her heart heavier than stone.
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Starlight ✍️
- Writer
