But something was horribly wrong.
They were barefoot. Their clothes were torn. And—
Blood.
Their tiny hands and arms were smeared red.
They ran like children escaping hell itself, ignoring cars, ignoring everything, their eyes locked on Emily as if she were the only thing keeping them alive.
Behind them, sprinting with a face twisted in panic, was Richard Hawthorne.
The powerful billionaire no longer looked untouchable.
He looked like a father watching his children run straight into danger.
Time froze.
Emily dropped the suitcase.
She didn’t know what had happened—but every instinct screamed that something terrible had gone down inside that perfect house. Something that would change all their lives forever.
Emily collapsed to her knees on the burning pavement and opened her arms just in time.
Three small bodies crashed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.
“DON’T LEAVE US!” Liam screamed, wrapping his arms around her neck so tightly she could barely breathe. “DON’T LEAVE US WITH THE WITCH!”
Emily hugged them, kissing their sweaty hair—then felt something wet and sticky.
Her yellow gloves were turning red.
“Blood—oh God, you’re bleeding!” she cried, frantically checking their hands and arms. “What happened?!”
“We broke the window,” Ethan sobbed, shaking. “Dad locked us in… the door wouldn’t open… we jumped so we could get to you.”
Emily’s world tilted.
They had gone through glass.
For her.
Before she could process that kind of love, a shadow fell over them.
Richard reached them, breathing hard, eyes blazing with rage and fear. In his poisoned mind, he didn’t see a reunion.
He saw a kidnapping.
“LET THEM GO!” he roared, grabbing Noah’s arm violently. “Get away from my kids, you crazy woman!”
“Please—sir, they’re hurt!” Emily begged, shielding them with her body. “Don’t pull them—there’s glass in their hands!”
But Richard was blind.
He shoved Emily backward. She hit the curb hard. The children screamed.
“DAD, STOP!” Ethan’s shrill cry finally sliced through the fog.
Richard froze.
He looked down.
Really looked.
Blood dripping from his sons’ hands. Scraped knees. Torn clothes. Emily on the ground—hurt, but still reaching for them.
“What… what did you do to them?” he whispered, horror replacing fury.
“She didn’t do anything!” Ethan shouted, standing in front of his brothers like a tiny soldier. “YOU DID! You and Victoria!”
“She stole—”