Chapter 4

Old Mr. Henson's seventieth birthday celebration was a grand affair, drawing a huge crowd of guests, livelier even than the auction earlier that day.

When I arrived, Emmet still hadn't come.

Alone, I fielded all the relatives who came over to make small talk, a proper, fake smile on my face, while inside I counted down the minutes until I could leave.

"Oh, Dora, you're here? Where's Emmet?" It was Emmet's Aunt Sylvia, forever known for her gossip. "Why did he let you come alone again? That boy has no sense at all."

"Something urgent came up at his company. He'll be here later," I answered with a smile.

"Well, men have to put their careers first," Aunt Sylvia said, though her eyes drifted toward Jasmine, who stood not far off, surrounded by a cluster of socialites and fawned over like a star. "Not like some people, who have nothing to do all day but hang around a man."

I followed her gaze. Jasmine was wearing a pink strapless gown today, sweet and pretty. She seemed to have recovered from yesterday's setback, chatting and laughing with the people around her, though her eyes kept slipping, as if by accident, toward the door.

She was waiting for Emmet.

I looked away, not caring to watch anymore. This farce was no longer my concern.

I made an excuse and walked off alone to get some air outside the study in the back garden. The evening breeze was cool, clearing away the stuffy air of perfume and food in the banquet hall.

I leaned against a pillar in the corridor, took out my phone, and opened the divorce agreement my attorney had just sent.

The moment I signed, the absurd mess of the past three years between Emmet and me would finally be over.

I took a deep breath and was about to reply to my attorney, to ask him to bring over the hard copy.

Just then, from the study not far away, I heard Emmet's voice.

He was here.

Instinctively I put my phone away, wanting to leave this place before trouble found me.

Before I could take a single step, I heard his voice, cold as if it had been steeped in ice.

"The thing I told you to handle—you botched it."

That was not the tone anyone used with an elder.

Something turned over inside me, and as if some force were guiding me, I slipped into the shadow of the pillar.

Right after, I heard Jasmine's tearful, wounded voice.

"Emmet... I really didn't know Dora would..."

"The script I gave you wasn't for you to go head-to-head with him at the auction."

There wasn't a trace of tenderness in Emmet's voice, only a cold question thrown out in a single line.

My mind went blank, a buzzing rush of nothing.

"Your job was to needle her, make her jealous, make her take all her anger out on me—not to go humiliate yourself."

A script? A job? What were they talking about?

"But... but you knew I liked that painting..." Jasmine was still sobbing.

"Liked it?" Emmet let out a low, soft laugh, thick with open contempt.

"Jasmine, have you forgotten what you are? You're just an actress I hired. Play your part well and take your money. Any ideas you shouldn't be having, you'd best get rid of now."

In that instant, all the blood in my body seemed to freeze.

Jasmine... he'd hired her? All those provocations, those scandals, all those sparks that made me lose control again and again... none of it was real? All of it... was staged by him?

Why? Why would he do this?

A terrifying thought, one I didn't dare dwell on, rose to the surface of my mind.

Just as the sheer shock left me unable to move, I heard Emmet's phone ring.

He answered, his tone a little gentler than before, but still carrying that cold, everything-under-control edge.

"Attorney Lambert, it's me."

Attorney Lambert... was my personal attorney!

My heart seized.

When I made out what Emmet and Attorney Lambert were saying, I felt as if I'd been plunged into an ice pit.

I could hear my own heart hammering, like a drum, pounding against my eardrums.

I couldn't hold back the flood of fury any longer. I burst out from the shadows and slapped him hard across the face.

The crisp crack of the slap tore through the dead silence. I was shaking all over, every word bleeding out of me: "Emmet Henson, you make me sick!"

The usual restrained, self-controlled look on Emmet's face was gone, replaced by something I had never seen before, something intensely predatory.

He was like a beast that had lain in wait for a long time, finally dropping every disguise, baring its sharp fangs.

Step by step he closed in on me, pinning me between the cold pillar and his chest, with nowhere left to go.

"Dora, you can't get away." He lowered his head, his scorching breath spilling across my cheek, his voice low and hoarse, yet carrying a hint of a triumphant smile.