I hesitated. “Dad, I—”
“You will do it,” he said firmly. “Our name is already being dragged through every headline. Fix this mess, Emerald. Tomorrow morning. And while you’re at it—apologize to your stepsister and to your husband. Publicly.”
I clenched my fists under the blanket but nodded. “Alright,” I said quietly. I didn’t want to argue anymore.
Satisfied, he straightened his coat. “Good. Nathan and Amber will come by later. You’ll apologize in person before the press conference.”
When he left, my mother exhaled shakily. “Don’t let him see you break,” she murmured. “We’ll be gone soon.”
And so I waited.
When Nathan and Amber arrived, their faces wore the same masks I’d seen for years—smooth, practiced, false.
Amber approached first, her arm in a sling, crocodile tears ready in her eyes. “Emerald,” she said softly, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I never wanted things to get this bad between us.”
I looked at her, forcing a small smile. “Me too. I’m sorry… for everything.”
Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder, feigning concern. “We’re family, Emerald,” he said, his tone almost tender. “Let’s not make this worse than it already is.”
They played their part well—two perfect victims, all sympathy and sweetness. I mirrored their act, smiling faintly, nodding in all the right places.
When they finally left, I exhaled, the smile falling off my face like a mask I no longer needed.
That night, the hospital felt too quiet. The clock on the wall ticked endlessly as I stared at the dark window. My mother sat by the edge of the bed, her coat folded over her arm.
Then, just past midnight, the door opened again—softly this time.
“Ms. Emerald?” a man whispered. “It’s time.”
My mother stood, glancing at me. “Are you ready?”
I nodded.
We followed him through the back corridor, where the lights were dim and the halls were empty. The air outside was cool against my skin as we stepped into the night. A black car waited for us, its windows tinted.
The drive was silent. My mother held my hand tightly, and for once, neither of us looked back.
When the car stopped, I looked up to see the faint outline of a private helicopter waiting at the edge of an empty airfield. As the helicopter lifted off, the lights of the city below blurred into gold and white.
The noise, the lies, the pain—it all began to fade with every meter we climbed.