Chapter 5 - The Heir's Ultimatum
"Get out," Nathan said.
His voice wasn't loud. It was terrifyingly quiet.
Margaret blinked, her aristocratic composure completely shattered. "Nathan... I was only trying to protect the family name—"
"I said, get out," Nathan roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings of the master suite and shaking the chandeliers in the hallway.
The house manager and the IT technician scrambled backward, practically tripping over themselves as they fled down the corridor. Margaret stood frozen for a second longer, her face mottled with humiliation and rage, before she turned and marched away, her heels clicking furiously against the hardwood.
The heavy mahogany door swung shut with a soft, final click.
The room plunged back into silence, save for the hum of the climate control.
Nathan didn't look at the door. He turned back to me, his chest heaving, his eyes heavy with a depth of remorse and love that nearly brought me to my knees.
"Emily," he choked out, finally reaching out and gently taking my hands in his. "I am so sorry. I am so damn sorry you had to carry all of that alone."
"You didn't know, Nathan," I whispered.
"I should have defended you better. I should have investigated my own mother's poison before letting her step foot near this room," he said, pulling me gently against his chest, careful not to press too hard against the scars on my back.
He buried his face in my hair, holding me as if he were afraid I would vanish into smoke like the nightmares of my past.
"They’re coming here," Nathan murmured against my temple, his voice hardening with sudden resolve. "Tomorrow morning, we are flying to West Virginia. I want to meet Johnny, Paul, and Lily. I want to bring them here, into this house, where they belong."
I pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, my heart swelling with a fierce, terrifying hope. "Are you sure, Nathan? That’s three kids, a mountain of baggage, and a family that won't ever fit into society's neat little boxes."
Nathan smiled—a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes—and kissed my forehead tenderly.
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"Emily, I didn't marry a scandal," he whispered against my skin. "I married a hero. And nothing my mother or anyone else says will ever change that."
Before I could answer, the private elevator chime at the end of the master hallway pinged softly—a sound that shouldn't have been active at midnight, signaling that someone had just bypassed the security codes and was ascending directly to our floor.
