Emery’s POV
The victory over Portia feels hollow within hours.
I replay the confrontation in my mind as Landon drives us back to the coastal apartment—the way her expression flickered when I stood my ground, the silence that followed my ultimatum. I should feel triumphant. I should feel powerful.
Instead, I feel the weight of a war that has only just begun.
Elsie sleeps in her car seat, her tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. She has no idea what her mother just did, what lines were drawn in her name. I reach back and touch her soft curls, grounding myself in her warmth.
Landon hasn't spoken since we left the estate. His hands grip the steering wheel too tightly, his jaw set in that familiar way that tells me his mind is somewhere far from this car.
"You're quiet," I say finally.
"So are you."
The silence stretches between us, carrying a weight neither of us expected. We won something today. But winning feels different than I imagined.
That night, we move through the apartment like ghosts, feeding Elsie, bathing her, laying her down in her crib without the easy conversation that usually fills these moments. When I finally crawl into bed beside him, he pulls me close but says nothing.
I lie awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering why freedom still feels like a cage.
* * *
The next morning, I find Landon already awake, standing by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. His voice is low, clipped, the tone he uses for business calls that carry bad news.
"When?" A pause. "How many?" Another pause, longer this time. "I understand. Keep me updated."
He ends the call and doesn't turn around.
"What happened?" I ask from the doorway, Elsie balanced on my hip.
His shoulders tense. "We need to talk."
Those three words have never brought anything good. I cross to the kitchen table and sit down, settling Elsie in her high chair with some soft fruit to keep her occupied.
Landon joins me, but he doesn't sit. He paces instead, running his hand through his hair the way he does when he's working through something he doesn't want to say.
"Just tell me," I say. "Whatever it is."
He stops pacing and faces me. "Anonymous threats arrived at my office yesterday. And the day before that."
My stomach drops. "What kind of threats?"
"Detailed ones." His voice is steady, but I see the fear beneath his composure. "They know where we live, Emery. Someone leaked our location. The security team confirmed it this morning."
I feel the blood drain from my face. "Who would—"
"I don't know. But it doesn't matter who. What matters is that we're exposed here." He crouches beside my chair, taking my hand. "I can't protect you both if we stay."
"What are you saying?"
He holds my gaze, and I already know before he speaks. "We need to relocate to the estate. The security infrastructure there is already in place. Cameras, guards, controlled access. It's the safest option."
My stomach turns so violently I think I might be sick. "You're asking me to go back there."
"I'm asking you to let me keep you safe."
"That house—" My voice cracks, and I hate myself for it. "I fought to escape that house, Landon. I clawed my way out of those walls. And now you want me to walk back inside willingly?"
He squeezes my hand, his eyes searching mine. "I know what I'm asking. I know what it cost you to leave."
"Do you?" The question comes out sharper than I intend. "Do you know what it felt like to disappear inside that place? To become invisible while your mother and sister stripped away every piece of who I was?"
"Yes." His voice is quiet, broken. "I saw it happen. I let it happen. And I will carry that guilt for the rest of my life."
Elsie babbles happily, oblivious to the conversation unfolding around her. Landon glances at our daughter, and something in his expression shifts—raw fear, the kind a parent feels when they can't guarantee their child's safety.
"This isn't surrender," he says, turning back to me. "This is strategy. We go in together, we control the terms, and we protect what matters."
"And if your mother—"
"Then I will stand between you. Every time. I promise you that."
I want to argue. I want to scream that promises mean nothing in that house, that Portia has decades of practice breaking things that seem unbreakable. But I look at Elsie, at her innocent smile, at the fruit smeared across her cheeks, and I feel my resistance crumbling.
"If we do this," I say slowly, "we live in our own wing. Separate from Portia. Separate from Lily. Our own space that they cannot enter without permission."
He nods immediately. "Done."
"And Elsie stays with me. Always. No one takes her anywhere without my consent."
"Agreed."
"I mean it, Landon." I hold his gaze, letting him see the steel beneath my fear. "This is not negotiable."
"I know." He rises and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me while I still hold Elsie between us. "I know who you are now, Emery. I know what you're capable of. And I will never underestimate you again."
Against every instinct screaming inside me, I nod. "Okay. We'll go."
Later we pack in silence.
I fold Elsie's tiny clothes into suitcases, each piece a reminder of the peaceful life I built here—the life I'm leaving behind. Landon handles the logistics, making calls, arranging transport, coordinating with his security team.
By afternoon, we're in the car, the coastal apartment shrinking in the rearview mirror.
I watch the ocean disappear, replaced by rolling hills and manicured landscapes that grow more familiar with each passing mile. Elsie sleeps again, unaware that her world is shifting.
When the iron gates of the Remington estate appear, my chest tightens so severely I can barely breathe. The house rises before us, grand and imposing, exactly as I remember. Every window feels like an eye. Every stone wall feels like a prison.
Landon reaches over and takes my hand. "We can do this."
I don't answer. I'm too busy staring at the place that once swallowed me whole.
The car rolls through the gates, and I feel the weight of the estate settling over me like a shroud. But something is different this time. I'm different.
I squeeze Landon's hand and whisper a promise to myself—quiet enough that only I can hear.
"This time, I will not disappear."