The Storm Breaks

An hour later, across town, Georgia stormed out of her house, a whirlwind of fury. Her friends trailed behind her, both hungry for scandal.

"Are you sure about this, Georgie?" Candace asked, flipping her glossy hair over one shoulder. "If you go over there now, it'll be a scene."

"Exactly the point," Georgia snapped. "She wants to humiliate me? I'll destroy her."

Mira smirked. "I say let's drag the home wrecker out by her hair."

Georgia stopped, seething.

"She thinks she can just waltz into my future house, into my fiancé's life, and I'll sit back? Hell no. Eric Blackwood is mine."

Her mother's earlier words echoed in her head — Don't forget the plan, darling. Marry him, then you control everything.

"Let's go," Georgia hissed.

The three women got in Georgia's car, and zoomed off.

Tonight, blood — or at least reputations — would be spilled.

⸻

Back at the mansion, Emma lay resting in her old room, sunlight pooling over her like a warm blanket. She'd forgotten how peaceful this place could feel.

A knock at the door.

"Come in," she called softly.

Eric's assistant, Taylor, stepped inside with a gentle smile.

"Mr. Blackwood's heading back to the office now," he said. "He wanted me to make sure you had everything you needed."

Emma smiled. "He's still spoiling me."

Taylor chuckled. "He's missed you."

So had she. Maybe this visit would be good for both of them.

"He would be going to the party from work, so he asked me to pick you whenever you're ready. The party starts in two hours."

"Oh, it's okay, I can find my way there," she objected.

She wanted to drive around by herself. She'd use one of the cars in the garage.

"I insist," she continued, when Taylor was about to protest.

"Alright ma'am, if you insist."

" Thank you Taylor, that'd be all," she smiled.

Taylor bowed and left.

Just then a housekeeper named Rosa brought her tea.

He was the only remaining staff in the house. The rest have been laid off, as Georgia insisted she wanted to choose her own staff herself when she moved into the house after the wedding.

"Thank you," Emma murmured, cradling the cup.

She felt heavy with exhaustion. The baby shifted inside her, a gentle reminder of life amid so much loss. Despite the years and grief, it felt good to be home, even for a day.

She dropped the cup, and stepped out of her room and walked to the living room. Once there, she walked over to the sprawling portrait of her late parents over the mantel, and stood there going over the old memories.

A sudden sharp knock shattered the quiet.

Before she could answer, the front doors burst open.

Georgia strode in, flanked by Candace and Mira — her designer-clad entourage.

Emma rose, confused. "You must be Georgia. I'm—"

"Save it," Georgia hissed, stalking toward her, her face set like stone, eyes hard, lips curled in scorn.

"I don't care who you are or what you're doing here, you filthy home wrecker."

Emma blinked, stunned. "I… I think there's a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Candace snorted. "We saw the video, you tramp."

Emma's heart pounded. "Wait, video? What video?"

Mira sneered. "Of you and Eric. All over each other at the airport like some desperate mistress."

Emma's hands flew up, palms out. "I'm his sister! Emma Blackwood!"

For a split second, the words hung in the air.

Then Georgia laughed. A cold, cruel sound.

"Nice try. Eric would have told me his sister was in town. You think I'm stupid?"

Emma's heart pounded.

"I think you're making a mistake. I'm not who you think I am."

"Oh, we know exactly what you are," Georgia snarled, eyes glinting with venom. "A scheming little slut trying to get her claws into a billionaire. Well guess what, sweetheart? I own this place now. And you? You're nothing."

Emma's voice trembled, but she stood her ground.

"I swear, I—"

But she never finished.

Georgia's hand flew out, slapping Emma hard across the face. The sting of it stole the breath from her lungs.

Emma stumbled back, hand to her cheek.

"Get her," Georgia hissed.

Candace and Mira grabbed at Emma, shoving her against the wall. Her head struck the edge of the dresser, and pain lanced through her skull.

"Stop!" Emma sobbed. "I'm pregnant!"

The words barely registered before another blow landed.

"Good," Georgia snapped. "Maybe we'll fix that problem too."

The front door opened again.

Crystal Caldwell stepped inside

"What's going on?" She asked, but when Crystal saw the scene unfolding , she smirked.

"About time," she muttered.

"She's his mistress," Georgia spat.

Emma's voice cracked. "I'm his sister, please—"

Crystal's face hardened. "Shut her up."

"Let's make sure she never comes near our family again."

She joined in.

Emma tried to fight back, but the blows came too fast, too brutal. She was shoved, struck, dragged by her hair, cruel words raining down on her in a storm of jealousy and hatred.

Somewhere, deep in her pain-addled mind, she thought of Eric. Of how none of this made sense. Of how her brother would never believe this could happen in his own house.

And then the world turned red.

Emma didn't remember falling. Or the kick to her stomach. The searing pain. The taste of blood in her mouth.

The last thing she heard was Crystal's cold voice.

"Leave her. Trash belongs with trash."

Then darkness took her.