Emma's POV
I sat in my car for three hours, parked outside the coffee shop where Adrian and I had our first date.
Except it wasn't really a date. It was a "we should discuss the pregnancy" meeting that turned into "I guess we should get married" conversation. Even our beginning was a mistake.
My phone buzzed. Twelve missed calls from Adrian. I turned it off.
I should have kept driving. Should have gone to a hotel, or Sophie's apartment, or anywhere but back to that penthouse. But something pulled me home—maybe stupidity, maybe hope, maybe just the pathetic need to see if Adrian would even notice I'd been gone.
When I walked in at 6 PM, I heard laughter from the dining room.
Vivian's laugh. Adrian's laugh.
I stood in the entryway, listening to my husband sound happier than he'd been in five years of marriage.
"Remember when you tried to cook pasta and nearly burned down your apartment?" Vivian was saying. "The fire department came and everything!"
"I was twenty-four and didn't know you had to add water," Adrian said, and he was actually chuckling. "You called me the 'worst chef in New York.'"
"You still are! Remember last month when Emma said you tried to make eggs and—" Vivian stopped. "Oh. Emma's here."
I stepped into the dining room. They were sitting close together at one end of the long table, sharing a bottle of wine. Two glasses. Not three.
They hadn't set a place for me.
"Emma." Adrian stood up quickly, guilt flashing across his face. "You're back. I was worried."
"Were you?" I looked at the table. Vivian's luggage was gone from the hallway. The guest room door was closed. They'd been drinking wine and laughing about old times while I'd been sitting in a parking lot having a breakdown.
"Of course I was worried. You were gone for hours—"
"You have your phone," Vivian interrupted, swirling her wine. "You could have called."
My sister's eyes met mine over the glass. There was something in them—triumph, maybe. Or challenge.
"I did call," Adrian said to me. "Twelve times."
"I needed space." I moved toward the kitchen. "I'll make dinner."
"Oh, we already ate!" Vivian said brightly. "Adrian made reservations at that Italian place you love, but when you didn't come back, we went without you. We didn't want the reservation to go to waste."
The Italian place I loved. The one I'd been begging Adrian to take me to for two years. He'd always been too busy.
But for Vivian, he'd made time.
"That's fine," I heard myself say. "I'm not hungry anyway."
I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were leftovers in a container with my name on it. At least they'd thought to save me some scraps.
I threw the container in the trash.
"Emma, don't be like that," Adrian said from the doorway. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be upset—"
"Upset?" I turned to face him. "Why would I be upset that my husband took my sister to my favorite restaurant on the same day she moved into our house?"
"It wasn't like that—"
"What was it like, then? Explain it to me."
Adrian ran his hand through his hair—his tell when he was frustrated. "You left. You were gone for hours. Vivian was here, she was hungry, so we went to dinner. That's all."
"That's all," I repeated. "Just dinner with your ex-girlfriend in the restaurant I've been asking you to take me to for two years."
"Ex-girlfriend from five years ago, Emma. Five years."
"And I'm your wife of five years, but you've never once taken me there!"
Vivian appeared behind Adrian, her hand touching his shoulder. "This is my fault. I suggested the Italian place because Adrian mentioned you liked it. I thought we'd all go together, but Emma, you weren't here."
Her hand stayed on his shoulder. Possessive. Familiar.
I watched Adrian glance at her hand but not move away.
"Get out," I said quietly.
"Emma—" Adrian started.
"Not you. Her." I looked at my sister. "Get out of my kitchen."
Vivian's eyes widened in fake innocence. "Emma, I don't understand why you're so angry—"
"OUT!"
She scurried away, and I was alone with Adrian again.
"You're being unreasonable," he said.
"Am I? Tell me, Adrian. In five years of marriage, how many times have you laughed with me the way you were laughing with her?"
He didn't answer.
"How many times have you cancelled work to spend time with me? How many times have you looked at me the way you look at her?"
"I don't look at her any way—"
"You do!" My voice cracked. "You light up when she walks in a room. Your whole face changes. You smile at her jokes. You actually listen when she talks." Tears burned my eyes. "I've been your wife for five years and you've never once looked at me like that."
"Emma, you're imagining things—"
"Am I? Then answer me this: what's my favorite color?"
Adrian blinked. "What?"
"My favorite color. What is it?"
Silence.
"What's my favorite food? My favorite movie? What do I do when I'm stressed?" I stepped closer. "You don't know, do you? You've been married to me for five years and you don't know anything about me."
"That's not fair—"
"What's fair about any of this?" I was crying now, ugly tears I couldn't stop. "I gave up my career for you. I learned everything about you—how you like your coffee, what side of the bed you sleep on, that you tap your pen when you're thinking. I made myself into the perfect wife, and you still don't see me!"
"I see you—"
"No, you don't. You see a responsibility. A duty. The woman you had to marry because you thought she was pregnant." I wiped my eyes. "Well, guess what? I wasn't pregnant. The test was negative. I knew it was negative before your mother found it."
Adrian's face went pale. "What?"
"I could have hidden that pregnancy test. Could have thrown it away and you never would have known. But I didn't, because I wanted you to find it. I wanted an excuse for you to marry me."
"Emma—"
"I've been in love with you since before you dated Vivian. Since the first time she brought you home and you smiled at me in the hallway. I loved you for years, and when she left, I saw my chance. So I took it." I laughed bitterly. "I trapped you in this marriage, Adrian. And you've been punishing me for it ever since."
The silence was deafening.
Adrian stared at me like I was a stranger. "You... you did that on purpose?"
"Yes. I did. Because I loved you and I thought—" My voice broke. "I thought if I could just have you, if you could just see me, you'd love me back eventually."
"Emma—"
"But you never did. You married me and immediately started treating me like I didn't exist. And now Vivian's back and I can see it in your eyes—you wish she was your wife instead of me."
"That's not true—"
"Then prove it," I challenged. "Tell me one reason you want to stay married to me that has nothing to do with duty or honor or doing the right thing. Tell me one reason that's about me, Emma, not about obligation."
Adrian opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
He had no answer.
"That's what I thought," I whispered.
I walked past him toward the bedroom. I'd pack the rest of my things tonight. I'd leave in the morning before Vivian woke up. I was done fighting for a man who didn't want me.
But as I passed the guest room, I heard Vivian's voice on the phone:
"—told you it would work. Adrian's barely looked at her since I got here. Give me one week and he'll be asking for a divorce himself. Then you and I can finally be together, and I'll have access to the Hartwell fortune. Perfect plan, right?"
I froze.
"Stop worrying," Vivian continued. "Emma's too weak to fight back. She never has been. She'll leave quietly, Adrian will be heartbroken and vulnerable, and I'll be here to comfort him. By the time he realizes what happened, it'll be too late."
My heart stopped.
Vivian wasn't here because of a divorce. She wasn't here because she wanted Adrian back.
She was here to destroy my marriage on purpose.
And she had a partner helping her.