EMMA POV
He sat across from me. The candlelight made his face look calm. His smile was small.
"Don't you remember me?" he asked. "High school. I was quiet. No one noticed me. You did. You stood up for me. You changed my life."
His words felt heavy. I looked at him. The scar near his brow. The sharp jaw. A trace of memory moved in my mind but stayed blurred.
"I don't remember," I said. My voice shook.
He nodded slowly. "My name is Daniel. I loved you then. I love you now. I'll protect you from him."
Cold spread through me. I looked down at my hands. The ring caught the light. "I'm married," I said. "To Ethan."
Daniel's eyes hardened. "Then I'll face him. He hurts you. I'll stop him. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe."
The word safe sounded wrong. It felt like another trap.
"I can't," I said. "You don't understand."
"I do," he said. "He's breaking you. I see it in your eyes. You flinch when someone moves. You live in fear."
"You don't know anything," I said.
He laughed once. "I know enough. I've watched you. I know where he takes you. I know what he says. I know you tried to run."
My chest tightened. "How do you know that?"
He looked calm again. "Because I never stopped watching you. You saved me. Now I'll save you."
I stepped back. "Daniel, stop. You're scaring me."
He stood. His hand reached out but stopped midair. "I'd never hurt you," he said. "But I'll do what I must. Even if it means ending this marriage."
The words cut the air.
Two men entered the room. Both large. Both dressed in black. They moved with quiet control.
Daniel spoke without looking at me. "She hasn't eaten. Bring her food."
One nodded and left.
I stared at the other. "Who are they?"
"People I trust," Daniel said.
"You can't keep me here," I said.
"I'm not keeping you. I'm protecting you."
"No," I said. "You're deciding for me. That's what Ethan does."
His eyes flickered. Then his face turned cold.
"You'll understand soon," he said. "Once you're safe."
ETHAN POV
The party was loud. The hall full of strangers. Men to impress. Women to please. Their laughter mixed with the music and the smell of liquor.
I smiled when they looked. Laughed when they spoke. Pretended to care. Anything to forget how her eyes looked when she said "I do."
Emma.
Her name stayed in my head no matter how much I drank.
When the last guest left and the music stopped, the silence hit hard. The house felt too big. Too cold. I called out. "Emma!"
No answer.
Her clothes hung in the closet. Her shoes by the door. But she was gone.
Anger came first. Then something else. Heavier.
I grabbed my keys and drove. The city lights blurred. I didn't know where I was going until I saw the hospital.
Sophia's name was on the door.
I pushed through the entrance. The nurse froze.
"Mr. Ryder-"
"Where's Sophia Carter?"
"Room 214."
I walked fast. Opened the door. Stopped.
Sophia slept, pale but breathing. An empty chair beside her. A folded blanket. A note in Emma's handwriting: Be strong. I'll be back soon.
I stared at it.
The door opened. A doctor stepped in.
"You're her physician?"
"Yes, sir. Are you family?"
"I'm her brother-in-law. How bad is it?"
He hesitated. "She's stable. The surgery helped, but she needs rest. Your wife has been here every night."
My jaw tightened. "Every night?"
He nodded. "She works to pay the bills. Sleeps here sometimes. Refuses to leave."
I looked at the chair again. The pillow still warm.
"Did she say where she went?"
"No, sir."
I pressed my hand to the wall. "If she comes back, call me. Immediately."
"Mr. Ryder," the doctor said softly, "maybe she needs space."
I turned to him. My voice low. "I don't give her space. I give her safety. Understand?"
He swallowed. "Yes, sir."
I handed him my card. "How much does she owe?"
He checked a chart. "About nine hundred thousand."
"Paid."
He blinked. "Sir?"
"Clear it. Now."
He nodded fast. "Thank you."
"It's not thanks. It's duty."
The nurses whispered as I left.
"He paid everything?"
"Yes. Every bill."
Outside, I lit a cigarette. The night air bit my skin. She left me for this. For her sister.
I should have been angry. But anger wasn't what burned. It was something else. Something I didn't want to name.