Emery’s POV
I try to stay present.
It should be easy—the warm sunlight filtering through oak leaves, the soft grass beneath the blanket, my daughter's delighted squeals as she discovers the world beyond marble floors and security cameras.
But my mind keeps drifting toward headlines I haven't read yet, attacks I haven't survived yet, battles that haven't begun.
Then Elsie takes her first unsteady steps across the blanket, arms outstretched for balance, and everything else disappears.
She wobbles. Her tiny feet shuffle against the fabric, seeking purchase on unfamiliar terrain. Her face scrunches with concentration—so serious, so determined—and when she makes it three whole steps before tumbling onto her bottom, she looks up at me with such triumphant joy that my chest cracks open.
This is my daughter. This is everything.
The love that surges through me is almost painful in its intensity. It steals my breath, blurs my vision, reminds me why I've hardened myself into someone I barely recognize.
Every wall I've built, every battle I've fought, every piece of softness I've sacrificed—it was all for her. For this moment. For the chance to watch her discover grass and butterflies and the simple miracle of standing on her own two feet.
"Did you see that?" I whisper, not trusting my voice at full volume.
Landon is already moving. He scoops Elsie into his arms and lifts her onto his shoulders in one fluid motion, his hands steady around her tiny waist.
"Look at you, princess!" He bounces slightly, and Elsie grabs fistfuls of his hair for balance. "Ready for takeoff?"
He makes airplane sounds—ridiculous, exaggerated, completely undignified—and spins in slow circles while Elsie shrieks with delight. Her laughter rings across the empty park like bells, pure and uncontained, and I watch them both with something swelling in my chest that I'm afraid to name.
This man. This child. This fragile, precious thing we've built together.
When Landon finally settles beside me on the blanket, breathless and grinning, he positions Elsie between us like the center of our small universe. She immediately begins grabbing fistfuls of grass, studying each blade with intense fascination before letting them scatter in the breeze.
"She's going to have everything," Landon says quietly, watching our daughter's exploration. "The best schools. Every opportunity we can give her. A life without limits."
I nod, stroking Elsie's soft curls as she abandons the grass in favor of a dandelion that's caught her attention. "Her future is bright."
But my voice catches on the last word. The crack is small, almost imperceptible, but Landon hears it. His eyes find mine immediately, reading whatever's written on my face.
"What is it?"
I don't want to ruin this moment. I don't want to bring the war back into this quiet sanctuary we've carved out of an otherwise brutal week. But the words push against my lips anyway, demanding release.
"I'm afraid," I admit.
His hand covers mine where it rests on Elsie's back. "Of what?"
"Not for her." I swallow hard, forcing myself to continue. "For myself."
Landon waits, giving me space to find the right words.
"Your family will never stop." The truth tastes bitter on my tongue. "The tabloids, the whispers, the coordinated attacks—they'll keep coming. Day after day. Week after week. Until I break or disappear."
Elsie babbles happily, oblivious to the weight settling between her parents. She's found an ant now, tracking its path across the blanket with single-minded focus.
"I've built walls," I continue, my voice dropping. "I've made myself harder. Stronger. But what if it's not enough? What if they just keep chipping away until there's nothing left of me?"
Landon shifts, and suddenly his hands are on my face, cupping my cheeks, tilting my chin until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me." His voice is fierce, burning with a conviction that stops my breath. "Everything I do now—every battle I fight, every line I draw, every moment I stand against my own family—it's for you. For you and Elsie."
"Landon—"
"I will not let them take you from me." His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, brushing away tears I didn't realize had fallen. "I will not let them win. Do you understand me?"
I search his face for doubt. For hesitation. For any flicker of uncertainty that might reveal this as another pretty promise destined to shatter.
I find none.
His eyes hold nothing but absolute certainty—the kind that comes from making a decision so completely that turning back becomes impossible. Whatever he saw in those headlines this morning, whatever fears keep him awake at night, he's buried them beneath something stronger.
"We will get through this," he promises. "Together. And when the dust settles, when this war finally ends, we'll build something they cannot touch. A life that belongs to us. A future that has nothing to do with the Remington name or my mother's games."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've already chosen." He pulls me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "I chose you when I walked out of my mother's wing. I chose you when I refused to let Marian back into my life. I choose you every single day, Emery. And I will keep choosing you until there's no one left who questions where I stand."
I close my eyes and let myself lean into him. Let myself believe, just for this moment, that love might actually be enough. That the woman I've become can coexist with the woman I used to be. That we can survive this family and emerge on the other side with our marriage intact.
"Okay," I whisper against his lips. "Okay."
He kisses me softly—a seal, a promise, a declaration that requires no audience.
Between us, Elsie suddenly erupts in giggles.
We both look down to find her pointing at the sky, her entire body wiggling with excitement. A bird passes overhead—some small brown thing, unremarkable in every way—and our daughter watches it like it's the most magical creature she's ever seen.
Landon laughs, and I feel the sound vibrate through me where our bodies press together. I laugh too, surprised by the ease of it, by how natural joy feels in this moment.
The bird disappears into the trees. Elsie immediately begins searching for another one, her attention already redirected to the next wonder this world has to offer.
And for one perfect afternoon, the three of us exist outside the war entirely.
No tabloids. No whispers. No carefully orchestrated attacks or documented evidence of my supposed instability.
Just a mother, a father, and a little girl who doesn't know yet how complicated love can be.
I memorize every detail—the weight of Landon's arm around my shoulders, the softness of Elsie's curls beneath my fingers, the particular quality of light filtering through these ancient oak leaves.
Tomorrow, the battle will resume. Tomorrow, I'll return to screenshots and strategies and the endless work of survival.
But now, I am simply present.