Landon’s POV
The house settles into silence around ten o'clock, but it's the kind of quiet that presses against your eardrums. Uneasy. Waiting.
I find Emery in our bedroom, standing by the window with her arms crossed tight against her chest. She doesn't turn when I enter. Doesn't acknowledge the soft click of the door closing behind me.
"We need to talk about what happened today." My voice comes out tighter than I intend. "With my mother. And Lily."
"What about it?" Still facing the window. Still not looking at me.
"You threatened them."
Now she turns. Her eyes hold something I barely recognize—fury wrapped in exhaustion, layered over grief. "I told them the truth."
"You told them you'd be watching their every move. That you'd track every pill in this house." I run my hand through my hair, frustration building behind my ribs. "I told you I would handle the investigation. That you needed to be careful. That confrontation would only make things worse."
"Make things worse?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Harmony is lying in a hospital bed with enough sedatives in her blood to kill a horse. How exactly could things get worse?"
"By tipping off whoever did this, we're onto them. By making yourself a target."
"I'm already a target, Landon." She steps toward me, her hands dropping to her sides. "When are you going to understand that? I've been a target since the day I married you."
The words land like a blow. I absorb them, feeling something crack beneath the surface.
"This isn't about you," I say quietly.
"Isn't it?" Her voice rises. "My friend was poisoned. My daughter was left with your mother while I sat in the emergency room. And you want me to stay quiet? To trust your process?"
"I want you to trust me."
"I did trust you." The break in her voice nearly destroys me. "I trusted you to see what was happening. To protect us. And Harmony almost died anyway."
Silence falls between us, heavy and suffocating. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"Vigilance is all I have left," she says finally. "It's the only thing standing between our daughter and whoever did this. So no, I won't apologize for protecting her."
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find solid ground. When I open them, I force my shoulders to relax. Force my voice to soften.
"What if I brought in dedicated security? Professionals who answer only to me. Not the estate staff. Not my mother's people." I take a step toward her. "Personal protection for you and Elsie. Around the clock."
Something shifts in her expression. Not relief. Something colder.
"You mean guards," she says slowly. "Guards who track my movements. Who reports where I go. Who keeps me contained within approved spaces."
I flinch before I can stop myself.
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" She wraps her arms around herself again, pulling inward. "I escaped this house once, Landon. I clawed my way out because it felt like a prison. Because your mother's surveillance and your sister's cruelty and the constant judgment were suffocating me."
"This is different."
"How?" Her eyes bore into mine. "How is hiring people to watch my every move different from what your mother did? Because you'd be the one signing the checks instead of her?"
I have no answer. The silence stretches between us like broken glass, sharp and dangerous.
"I will not become a prisoner again." Her voice drops to something quiet and final. "Not even for safety. Not even for you."
We stand there, separated by three feet of carpet and an ocean of everything we can't fix. When she finally moves past me toward the bathroom, she doesn't touch me. Doesn't look at me.
That night, we sleep on opposite edges of the bed. I feel the space between us like a physical weight, pressing down on my chest. Every time I shift, I'm aware of how far she is from me. How carefully she's positioned herself at the very edge of the mattress.
I don't sleep. I stare at the ceiling and listen to her breathing, trying to determine if she's awake too.
Morning comes gray and colorless. Emery is already up when I open my eyes, standing beside Elsie's crib—that was transferred to us due to the absence of Harmony—in the corner of our room. Our daughter babbles happily, oblivious to the tension crackling through the air.
"You should go see Harmony today," Emery says without turning around. "Show support. Gather information firsthand."
I sit up, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. The screen fills with notifications—meetings, calls, and urgent requests. "I have critical meetings this morning. The board is expecting preliminary reports. It's impossible to reschedule."
She turns then, Elsie propped on her hip. Her expression is unreadable.
"The board." She repeats it flatly.
"It's not that simple. These aren't optional—"
"Do you truly not see what's happening under your own roof?"
The question stops me cold. I open my mouth to defend myself, to explain the pressures bearing down on me from every direction, but before I can speak, she crosses the room.
She lifts Elsie from her hip and places our daughter directly into my arms.
"Take her with you," Emery says.
I stare at her, Elsie's warm weight settling against my chest. "What?"
"Take her to the office. To your critical meetings. To wherever you need to be." Her voice is steady, but I see the steel beneath it. "Because I refuse to leave her with your relatives."
"Emery—"
"Someone in this house poisoned a woman whose only crime was protecting our child." She steps back, putting distance between us. "Until you figure out who, until you actually see what's right in front of you, Elsie stays with one of us. Always."
I look down at my daughter, her tiny fingers curling around the fabric of my shirt. She smiles up at me, trusting and innocent, with no understanding of the war being waged around her.
When I look up again, Emery is already walking toward the door.
"Find out who did this, Landon." She pauses with her hand on the frame, not turning around. "Before they come for someone else."
The door closes behind her with a soft click.
I stand in the morning light, holding my daughter, and feel the weight of everything I've failed to protect pressing down on my chest. Elsie reaches up and pats my face with her small hand, cooing softly.
My phone buzzes again. Another meeting reminder. Another obligation.
I look at the closed door where Emery disappeared. Then at my daughter's innocent face.
For once, the choice isn't difficult at all.