Page 73 of Blurred Lines

Caeleb shoots me a knowing look. I've always been good at remembering dates, the useless facts sticking in my brain like stubborn burrs. Emily nods hesitantly, and with trembling fingers, spins the dials.

The click as the lock disengages is shockingly loud in the silence. With a deep breath, Emily swings the safe door open. She reaches inside, her hand disappearing into the darkness for a heart-stopping moment before reemerging with a bundle wrapped in faded velvet cloth.

She unwraps it on the dusty floor, revealing an exquisite tapestry. Threads of gold shimmer in the dim light, intricate designs swirling into scenes of what looks like a mythical kingdom. The air crackles with a sense of forgotten magic, of secrets whispered through centuries.

But what catches my eye the most is the picture woven into the center. A father, presumably, with his daughters holding each of his hands, trailing behind an old woman.

Emily's breath hitches. She moves a careful finger over the art, her eyes full of mist.

"My gosh," Silas murmurs. "It's beautiful."

A smile begins to bloom on my lips, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, we've found a way to help Emily take back control. The moment shatters with the force of a hurricane.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here?"

The shout sends a shiver down my spine. We whirl around to find Verona standing in the doorway, her face contorted in fury. Jealousy burns in her eyes, a wildfire threatening to consume everything in its path.

Emily pales. "Verona, what are you?—"

"What am I doing? What are YOU doing?" Verona spits back, her voice rising with each accusation. "Snooping through family heirlooms? Desecrating this room with those grubby little paws?"

Caeleb steps forward, his protective instincts flaring. "It's her house, her room. She can do whatever she damn well pleases."

"You stay out of this!" Verona hisses, but her eyes never leave Emily. "This isn't yours anymore. You gave up this life, turned your back on everything when you went running off."

Emily flinches, and I see the flash of hurt in her eyes. My hands clench into fists. I swore to myself I'd stay cool, focus on helping Emily. But this woman, this bitter viper, is testing the limits of my resolve.

"Listen here," Silas barks out. "Get your sorry ass?—"

"SILAS!" Emily cuts in, her voice sharp. "Stop it. It's pointless."

She turns to Verona, her expression unreadable. "What do you want?"

Verona smirks, something cruel behind her eyes. "That's better. I just wanted to see what you were so desperate to hide. Funny, that Harvey would leave this for you when he never gave you the time of day while he was alive. Seems a bit … suspicious, don't you think? I wonder what else I can find here."

She looks around the room greedily.

Emily's jaw tightens. "There's nothing to find here. Now leave us alone."

"Oh, I don't think I will," Verona replies, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "I think I'll stay right here and watch while your precious little friends help you dig your own grave. On the subject of open graves, do you have reception?"

A frown begins to form on my forehead. I check my phone and find that I have two bars. I nod imperceptibly. "I do," I mouth to Silas and Caeleb. Emily squares her shoulders. "Why do I need reception? To call the cops on you?"

"You may well do that," she says, with unmistakable glee in her eyes. "But I'd check your social media news feed first."

My heart sinks. What does she have on us? Why do I know it can't be good?

Emily fishes out her phone and opens her socials. She checks the news feed. I see her eyes widen. I have to know. Wordlessly, I extend my hand to her, hoping she will tell me.

She doesn't speak, but she hands me her phone. There, the first picture, is one of her and Caeleb. It's been blurred, but the forms are unmistakable. There's more. There's also a picture of the three of us with her in the movie hall. Our looks, our stances, the way we we're sitting—all of it paints us in an unflattering light.

My eyes fall on the caption as I open the second picture to get a better look.

Seriously, take a look at the hot mess society's become. We've got young influencers, who could actually inspire people to, I don't know, plant a tree or something, choosing instead to juggle not just one but three guys old enough to be her uncool uncles.

Everyone thought Emily Martin was going to be different, right?

She's all about 'doing the right thing' and 'standing up for what's real'—except, apparently, when it comes to her own love life. Turns out, she's just another headline waiting to happen, mixing pleasure with a questionable choice in company. So much for high moral standards.