"Ah, Eric," Harold greeted smoothly. "Splendid turnout. Quite the celebration."
"Yes," Eric muttered. "Excuse me a moment."
"Eric, darling. Come, the board's waiting for your toast , let's not keep the guests in suspense."
But Eric wasn't budging. His gut screamed that something was wrong.
"Have either of you heard from my sister?" he asked, voice low, controlled.
Georgia's eyes flashed with something he couldn't name.
"Eric, why are you making a scene? She's probably off somewhere resting or shopping. Or maybe she left."
"Without telling me?"
"People do surprising things, sweetheart."
He stepped aside and dialed Emma's number. It rang. No answer. He called again. Voicemail.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Taylor, find me. Now." he texted.
Within seconds, Taylor appeared, breathless and alert. "Yes, sir?"
"I can't reach Emma. She should've been here by now. Go to the mansion. Check on her."
Nolan hesitated. "Sir… the staff said she hadn't left."
Eric's stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
"Go," he ordered, voice low and sharp. "And call me the second you get there."
Nolan nodded and disappeared through the crowd.
Eric turned back to the party, his gaze sweeping the glittering room. Georgia laughed with her friends, raising a glass like nothing in the world was amiss.
A knot twisted in his chest.
He moved through clusters of guests, offering nods and brief words, all while his mind stayed fixed on the gnawing, unshakable worry in his gut.
Eric's phone buzzed in his hand.
Incoming call: Taylor.
He answered immediately.
"Taylor, where's Emma?"
The tone of his assistant's voice made his blood run cold.
"Sir… you need to come home. Now."
"What happened?"
"It's Miss Blackwood, sir. There's an ambulance here. She's… she's in bad shape."
Eric's heart stopped.
"What do you mean bad shape?"
"Unconscious. Bruises, blood… sir, it's bad."
The room spun.
"I'm on my way." He hung up, already moving toward the door.
He didn't wait for Nolan's reply. Eric cut through the crowd, barely registering the polite farewells or the curious stares. Georgia reached for him as he passed.
"Where are you going?" Georgia called after him.
He didn't even look back.
"Home."
⸻
Twenty minutes later, Eric pulled into the mansion's driveway behind an ambulance. EMTs loaded a pale, battered Emma onto a stretcher. Her face was barely recognizable, a gash at her temple, her clothes bloodstained, and one hand still protectively over her stomach.
Eric's world tilted on its axis.
"Emma!" he called, racing to her side.
One of the EMTs stopped him.
"Sir, we need to move her. You can follow to the hospital."
"Emma," Eric choked, dropping to his knees beside her. "Jesus, Em, what happened?"
Emma didn't stir.
Eric's fists clenched, his mind reeling. Who could've done this? How could something like this happen in his own home?
Taylor approached quietly. He was pale and anxious. The usual calm professionalism in his assistant's face was gone, replaced by fear.
"What happened, Nolan? What the hell happened?"
Nolan shook his head. "I… I don't know, sir. She was alone. Rosa found her unconscious in the sitting room. There was blood—"
Emma stirred faintly, her lips parting. "Eric…" Just then Emma stirred faintly, her lips parting, her voice was a raw whisper.
"I'm here, Em," he said hoarsely, gripping her cold hand. "I've got you."
A single tear slipped down her cheek before her eyes fluttered shut again.
⸻
Eric climbed into the ambulance, never taking his eyes off Emma.
As the doors slammed shut, he pulled out his phone and called Georgia.
She answered on the second ring.
"Eric? Where are you? The guests are asking questions."
"I'm at the hospital. At St. Vincent's. Meet me there." He tried to sound calm.
"Why Eric?" Georgia asked, feigning ignorance.
Eric's fingers clenched around his phone.
"She was attacked," he said, his voice like ice. "Left for dead in my house."
And then, "Oh… her."
"I'll be there soon Eric. You have a lot of explaining to do," and she hung up.
The medic glanced at him. "Sir, she's stable for now, but it's touch and go."
Eric closed his eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Who did this to her?
And why?
The ambulance sped through the night.
Eric swore silently to himself. Whoever was responsible would pay. Every last one of them.
Back at the hospital, hours blurred. Emma lay unconscious, hooked to machines, monitors beeping steadily. Eric paced the hallway, fury burning beneath his skin.
A nurse appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Blackwood?"
Eric turned so fast the room spun.
"She's stable for now," the nurse said quietly. "We stopped the bleeding. You can see her now."
He nodded, relief washing over him as he followed her down the corridor to Emma's room.
When Georgia and her parents arrived, the room tensed.
The moment Georgia saw Emma, still thinking she was the mistress, she exploded.
"Are you seriously still letting that woman stay here? After everything?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Eric snarled.
"Don't play innocent. You think you can parade your little side piece around and—"
"That's my sister!"
His voice cracked through the hall like a whip, silencing everyone.
Georgia blinked.
"What…?"
Just then, Emma stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and pain-filled.
"Eric… they… they hurt me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Georgia… her family… they… they hit me."