Chapter 29
That day Thomas arrived at the hospital just as dusk began to settle, the shadows of the city stretching long and dark. His movements were deliberate but swift, his face set with quiet determination. Emma sat on the edge of her hospital bed, already dressed, her anxiety evident in the way her hands fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.
“Are you sure this is necessary?” she asked as Thomas entered the room.
“It’s the safest option,” he replied firmly, his gaze meeting hers. “Luka’s people are unpredictable. If they’ve already breached hospital security once, I’m not willing to take that chance again.”
She nodded, trusting his judgment despite the unease twisting in her chest. Thomas helped her gather her things, his presence steady and grounding.
The car was waiting at the private entrance, a sleek, black SUV with tinted windows. Marcus stood by the driver’s side, scanning their surroundings as Thomas guided Emma into the back seat.
The drive was tense, the silence filled with unspoken fears. Thomas sat beside her, his hand resting protectively on hers, offering a quiet reassurance.
By the time they reached his penthouse, Emma’s nerves were frayed. Thomas ushered her inside, locking the door behind them. Only then did she exhale, the weight of safety settling over her.
Now Emma leaned back on the couch in Thomas’s penthouse, letting the soft leather cradle her. The sprawling space was the epitome of understated luxury, with dark wood accents, polished marble surfaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline. Yet, despite the opulence, the place felt warm, inviting—a rare oasis in the chaos her life had become.
A steaming mug of chamomile tea sat on the coffee table in front of her, its aroma soothing. Thomas’s voice floated from the adjoining kitchen, where he was busy preparing dinner.
“I know you’re probably tired of me fussing over you,” Thomas called out from the kitchen, his tone light but teasing. “But I need your input on one last thing before I finalize tonight’s menu. Roasted vegetables or salad on the side?”
A soft chuckle escaped Emma as she rested on the plush couch, the faint sound of sizzling from the kitchen adding to the cozy atmosphere. “Surprise me, Chef Hamilton. At this point, I trust your culinary instincts more than my own.”
Thomas appeared in the doorway moments later, a dishtowel slung over one shoulder, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Careful,” he said with mock seriousness. “Keep praising me like that, and I might start charging you rent.”
Emma smiled back, but it faltered for a brief second—a flicker of something heavier passing over her expression. She recovered quickly, forcing a lightness into her voice. “If anyone deserves a rent-free sanctuary, it’s me.”
Thomas caught the subtle shift immediately. His smile faded as he stepped into the living room, pulling out the armchair across from her and sitting down. His elbows rested on his knees, his expression soft but concerned. “You okay?”
Emma nodded reflexively, her hand drifting to her growing belly. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. After a moment, she let out a slow breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s just… it feels like every time I try to move forward, Luka finds another way to drag me back down.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with the truth of her struggles.
For the past week, Thomas had made it his mission to create a safe haven for Emma—a place where she could catch her breath amidst the chaos. After the crash, the relentless media frenzy, and the constant threats from Luka, Emma had hesitated to leave the hospital. But the walls of her room felt too confining, and the Barrett estate was too exposed.
Thomas’s penthouse was the only place that felt secure.
He hadn’t just offered her a place to stay—he had made it feel like home. From arranging private security to stocking the fridge with her favorite snacks, Thomas had handled every detail with quiet efficiency. He even thought of small touches: fresh flowers on the table, a cozy blanket draped over the couch, a bookshelf stacked with novels she loved.
But it wasn’t just the physical comforts that made the difference—it was Thomas himself.
Whenever Emma felt the weight of her fears pressing down, threatening to crush her, Thomas was there. He didn’t try to offer quick fixes or meaningless reassurances. Instead, he listened, truly listened, as she poured out her worries. He reminded her of her resilience, of the strength she still carried, even when she doubted it herself.
Now, as he leaned forward, his presence steady and unshakable, Emma felt a flicker of that comfort.
“Luka’s hold isn’t as strong as it seems,” Thomas said gently. “He thrives on fear, Emma. He wants you to feel like there’s no way out, but that’s the lie. We’re unraveling his schemes piece by piece, and he knows it.”
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, the vulnerability in her gaze was unguarded. “What if he doesn’t stop?” she whispered. “What if he doesn’t care how much damage he causes as long as he gets what he wants?”
Thomas leaned back, his jaw tightening as determination flashed across his face. “Then we don’t stop either,” he said firmly. “We fight him at every turn. You’re not alone in this, Emma.”
The words settled over her like a balm. She nodded slowly, her hand still resting protectively over her belly.
“I am so grateful to have you by my side,” she said softly. “Really.”
His lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “You don’t need to thank me. You just need to focus on staying strong—for yourself and those twins.”
Her smile returned, warmer this time, and for the first time in days, the tight knot in her chest loosened ever so slightly. In this moment, in this place, she allowed herself to feel just a sliver of hope.
Emma finished her tea as the evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. Thomas had insisted she rest while he finished dinner, and she didn’t have the energy to argue.
The savory aroma of roasted vegetables filled the air as Thomas set the table with casual elegance. When he brought over the final dish—a perfectly cooked salmon filet—Emma couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re setting the bar way too high,” she teased. “I’m going to be spoiled by the time this is all over.”
Thomas chuckled, taking the seat across from her.
“You deserve to be spoiled, Emma. After everything you’ve been through, this is the least I can do.”
As they ate, the conversation turned to lighter topics. Thomas told her a story about a disastrous family ski trip, complete with self-deprecating humor about his inability to stay upright. Emma found herself laughing—a real, unguarded laugh that felt like a gift.
“You’re good at this,” she said, still smiling.
“At skiing?”
“No,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “At making me forget everything for a little while.”
Thomas’s expression softened. “You shouldn’t have to carry all of this, Emma. You deserve moments of peace. And I’ll do whatever it takes to give you that.”
Her chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away.
But as the night wore on, Emma’s thoughts inevitably drifted back to Alex. Despite his absence, despite the distance between them, she couldn’t shake the bond they shared.
She had loved him—still loved him, if she was honest with herself. But the man who had once been her partner, her protector, felt like a stranger now. And that realization hurt more than any headline or threat ever could.
“Thinking about Alex?” Thomas noticed the faraway look in her eyes and spoke gently.Emma nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if he even cares anymore. He’s been so distant, and I don’t know if that’s because he’s trying to protect me or because he’s given up.”
Thomas hesitated, then leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Whatever Alex’s reasons are, they don’t define your worth, Emma. You don’t need anyone’s approval to fight for what’s right.”
His words were meant to comfort, but Emma couldn’t ignore the flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that made her heart race and her thoughts spiral in directions she wasn’t ready to explore.
* * *
Alex Barrett was spiraling. He sat in his office, staring blankly at the stack of papers on his desk. They were reports from his legal team, updates from his PR advisors, and the latest intel on Luka’s moves. He knew he should be focusing, formulating a plan, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Emma.
He couldn’t stop picturing her at Thomas’s penthouse. The headlines had been relentless, painting Thomas as Emma’s knight in shining armor while portraying Alex as the absentee husband.
“Emma Barrett Rebuilds with Thomas Hamilton.”
“Romance Blossoms Amidst Chaos: Emma Finds Solace in a Rival.”
Alex had scrolled through every article, his jealousy simmering with each photo of Emma and Thomas together. The images weren’t salacious—most were of them talking, working, or sharing a meal—but the ease between them was unmistakable.
It wasn’t just jealousy that gnawed at Alex. It was guilt.
He had failed to protect Emma when she needed him most. He had let his fear and insecurities drive a wedge between them, and now Thomas was stepping into the space Alex had left vacant.
Alex’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and groaned.
Sophia.
Sophia had been relentless. Over the past week, her calls and messages had become increasingly frequent, each one more demanding than the last.
He answered the call reluctantly. “Sophia.”
“Finally,” she snapped. “Do you know how humiliating it is to be ignored like this? I’m carrying your child, Alex. You can’t just brush me aside.”
Alex exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’ve already talked about this, Sophia. I’ll take care of the child. You’ll get everything you need—”
“What I need,” she cut him off, her voice sharp as a blade, “is for you to stop pretending this isn’t a big deal. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in my position? I’m hiding your child while you cling to your precious little sham of a marriage.”
“This isn’t about my marriage, Sophia,” he said as his voice hardened.
“Oh, but it is,” she shot back, her tone dripping with venom. “You think you can have it all, don’t you? The grieving, loyal husband acts for the media, while keeping me—your child’s mother—safely tucked out of sight. It doesn’t work like that.”
Alex’s frustration bubbled over. “You’re not in a position to make demands.”
Sophia’s voice softened, turning icy and calculated. “I think I am. Because if you don’t start treating me with the respect I deserve, I’ll make sure the world knows exactly who you are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll tell them everything,” Sophia said smoothly. “That I’m pregnant with your child. That Alex Barrett isn’t the loyal, upstanding man everyone thinks he is. Imagine the headlines. Imagine the fallout. How do you think your board will react? How about your dear, sweet Emma?”
Alex’s fist clenched, his control cracking. “You think you can blackmail me?”
“Call it what you want,” Sophia replied, her tone venomous yet triumphant. “But if you don’t give me what I want, I’ll destroy everything you’ve built. And let’s be honest, Alex, your empire is already on shaky ground. Do you think Emma can handle another scandal? She’s barely holding on as it is.”
His voice dropped, dangerous and cold. “You don’t scare me, Sophia. I’ve faced people far worse than you.”
Sophia didn’t miss a beat. “Alejandro,” she purred, her voice a deadly mix of mockery and threat. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just giving you a choice. Do right by me, or I burn everything down.”
The line went silent for a moment, the weight of her words pressing heavily on Alex.
Sophia broke the tension. “I’ll give you a few days to think about it. But don’t take too long—I’d hate for this to get messy.”
Before Alex could respond, the line went dead, leaving him gripping the phone tightly, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of anger and dread.
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