Page 42 of Unholy Nights

Her eyes widen. "But my mother—"

"Will learn to accept reality," I say, each word falling like a death sentence between us. "Or she'll learn there are worse things than losing control."

The rest of the morning passes in a blur of stolen moments and heated looks. I have meetings I can't avoid, calls I have to take, but my mind keeps circling back to Emerald. The heat in her skin when I touched her. The way she looked at me like I could give her everything she's been starving for.

By late afternoon, I can’t stay away any longer and I go looking for her. I find her in the formal dining room, surrounded by elaborate gift baskets she's assembling under Madeline's strict instructions. Another way for her mother to assert control, to remind Emerald of her place.

I watch from the shadows as she meticulously arranges bottles of wine and artisanal chocolates, checking items off a detailed list with the precision of someone who knows the cost of even the smallest mistake. Her dark hair falls forward, hiding her face as she works, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she moves.

She pauses in her work, staring out the window at the falling snow. There's such longing in her expression, such desperate need for freedom, that it makes something in my chest constrict painfully. She doesn't belong here, arranging pretty boxes of expensive trinkets for her mother's social circle. She belongs in my bed, in my arms, creating a life she loves instead of these soulless displays of wealth.

I think about the black folder locked in my office drawer. A USB drive containing security footage from the night Madeline pushed her elderly father down the stairs when he threatened to cut off her inheritance. The same drive holds video of her confession about arranging Emerald's father's "accidental" overdose when he tried to get custody. Bank records that reveal her lifestyle empire for what it really is—an elaborate front for selling young models to wealthy men like Emmitt. Files detailing how she's systematically broken every person who's ever crossed her, including her own sister who mysteriously overdosed after threatening to expose her.

Proof that her perfect image is built on rot and corruption, collected over the last two years.

I’m only waiting for the perfect moment to destroy everything she’s built.

And Emmitt... my lip curls thinking about what I’ve found on him. Three girls in the past two years alone, all of them underage, all of them paid to disappear with their families' silence bought through ironclad NDAs. The latest one was the daughter of one of Madeline's socialite friends. The settlementamount was substantial, but money can't erase security footage. Can't erase the bruises documented in hospital records that mysteriously vanished from official files.

Can’t erase rape kits.

That moment is coming. I can feel it in my bones, in the way the air seems charged with the potential for violence. Madeline won't let go easily—of me or of Emerald. She'll fight with everything she has to maintain control.

Let her try.

I watch as Emerald returns to her task, efficiently tying a perfect bow around another basket. Such a small act of submission, but it makes my blood boil. Soon, I'll free her from all of this. Soon, she'll never have to bow to anyone's will but mine.

I turn away, leaving her to her work. I have preparations to make, pieces to move into place. The Christmas party is approaching faster than I'd like, and everything needs to be perfect. By then, I should know if she's carrying my child. If she's already growing the future I planned for us.

Because that night won't just be about announcing our relationship. It won't just be about showing everyone that she belongs at my side. It will be about destroying everything Madeline has built, piece by precious piece.

And if she tries to stand between me and what's mine... well. I didn't get where I am by letting obstacles live. The divorce papers I drew up the day I married her will be the least of her concerns.

I stride into my office, unlocking the drawer that contains my insurance policies. Everything I need to ensure Emerald's freedom is right here. Every piece of leverage, every dark secret, every weapon I might need to deploy.

Of course, these aren’t my only copies, but their proximity brings me comfort.

My phone buzzes with a text from Madeline, demanding my presence at dinner tonight for her goddamn menu tasting.

I ignore it, a cold smile curving my lips as I flip through the folder's contents. Let her make her demands. Let her think she still has any control over me.

Soon, she'll learn what happens when you try to keep a monster from what belongs to him.

Soon, she'll learn that her daughter was never hers to keep.

My motheralways said nothing good happens after midnight, but she never mentioned how tempting darkness could be.

That probably explains why I'm wide awake and staring at a note that definitely qualifies as "not good."

I just found it in my bed. It falls out as I'm pulling back my covers, this pristine white rectangle against my flannel sheets that's basically a written invitation to trouble. My hands shake as I pick it up. The paper feels expensive, and I wouldn’t expect anything less from my stepfather.

Come to the chapel. -C

Four words that make my pulse race and my skin flush hot despite the December chill seeping through my bedroom windows. I know that handwriting, precise and commanding, just like the man who wrote it.

Cohen.

I shouldn’t go. It’s almost midnight, and the chapel is tucked away at the far edge of the property, hidden among trees weighed down by fresh snow. If my mother found out I was going to sneak out, she’d be furious.

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