But as she slipped out into the cool night air, she knew the truth: she could have shattered a vase, and they wouldn't have even noticed. They were entirely connected to each other, locked away in a beautiful, unbreakable world of their own.
The memory faded, pulling Emily back to the sterile reality of the hospital room. She stood near the door, her back still turned to Sloane, fighting the tears prickling her eyes.
"Do you have a middle name for her yet?" Emily asked, her voice tight but clear.
She heard Sloane shift against the mattress. "No. Not yet."
"Make it Elizabeth," Emily suggested. "It’s the middle name of the most incredible and lucky woman I know. Give it to your daughter. Maybe that way, she will escape the pattern we share—loving a man who doesn't love either of us enough."
Emily pushed the door open and left without looking back.
Out in the brightly lit corridor, she ran into Ryan. He was walking toward her, holding a steaming paper cup of coffee. Emily reached out and took it directly from his hand.
"Thank you," she whispered, starting to walk past him.
Ryan stopped her, gently catching her hand in his. "Where are you going?"
"Home," she replied. "To be with the children."
Ryan stared into her eyes, his brow furrowing. "Something’s different about you."
Emily just stared back, a sad smile touching her lips.
He leaned in to kiss her, but Emily turned her head, letting his lips merely brush against her cheek. She pulled her hand free and moved away, heading straight for the exit.
As her heels clicked against the polished floor, her mind cleared. She might have chosen to remain inside a gilded cage, but she could always change the rules.
Chapter Eighteen
Harrison
The alarm clock buzzed at five in the morning, a harsh, grating sound that bounced off the sterile white walls of Harrison’s apartment. It was a decent place—a clean, functional one-bedroom that was a definite step up from the dingy studio he’d rented right after discovering Emily's son wasn't his and moving out of their shared apartment. But as he looked up at the generic, low ceiling, he couldn't help but feel suffocated. It was a far cry from the sprawling, custom-designed architectural masterpiece he used to call home. He groaned, rolling over on the stiff mattress to smack the snooze button.
He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his tired face. He dragged himself to the narrow kitchenette and turned on the tap to fill the coffee pot.
This was his life now. He had traded a brilliant wife, a beautiful home, and a thriving career for a cheap, destructive thrill. He couldn't blame Emily; he was the one who had broken his vows. He was the one who was too weak, too selfish, and too arrogant to appreciate the incredible woman he had married. He had chased a fantasy.
Harrison put the mug down. His stomach churned with a sickening mixture of regret and longing. For more than a year, he had been torturing himself by following Sarah's life through business magazines and social media updates. He watched herfirm get hired by major developers for high-profile projects, watched her smile in photos at charity galas, and obsessively scrolled through the announcements of her engagement to a billionaire. He had no business going anywhere near her today, but a morbid, self-destructive urge gripped his chest. He needed to witness the finality of what he had thrown away.
***
Hours later, the fluorescent lights of the cramped, open-plan office buzzed overhead as Harrison stared blankly at another endless spreadsheet. The digital clock in the corner of his monitor read 3:45 PM. As a junior data entry clerk, he was scheduled until six, but the wedding started at five. His supervisor—a kid fresh out of business school who looked at least a decade younger than Harrison—barked orders about weekly quotas from his glass-walled office.
Harrison pushed his keyboard away, the internal debate finally ending. He shouldn't go. Going would only twist the knife. He had already lost her; showing up to stare from the shadows was pathetic.
But the pull was too strong. He couldn't let the day pass without seeing the culmination of her happiness. He had only managed to land this job three months ago, yet he grabbed his cheap jacket from the back of his chair and logged out of his terminal anyway. He told the young supervisor he was clocking out early, accepting the inevitable reprimand and docked pay without a word.
By five, Harrison stood across the street from the grand cathedral downtown. The autumn wind bit through his thin jacket, but he barely felt the cold. He watched the stream of luxury cars pulling up to the curb. Valets rushed to open doors for men in tailored tuxedos and women in designer gowns. The Pierce family had spared no expense.
Harrison crossed the street, blending into the background of curious onlookers. He slipped into the vestibule of the church just as the heavy wooden doors were closing. He stayed hidden in the shadows of a stone pillar at the very back, making sure no one on the guest list could spot him.
The interior of the church took his breath away. Thousands of white roses adorned every pew, filling the air with a sweet, intoxicating perfume. Ethereal music drifted from a string quartet near the altar. Standing at the end of the aisle was Julian. The man radiated an effortless, innate power. Julian didn't look nervous; he looked like a man about to claim his greatest victory.
Then, the music swelled, transitioning into a triumphant march. The guests stood. Harrison pressed his back against the cold stone, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Sarah appeared at the entrance.
Harrison completely forgot how to breathe. She wore a stunning, elegant white gown that hugged her curves and flowed into a dramatic train. Her face glowed with pure, unvarnished happiness. She held a bouquet of lilies, but it was her smile that ruined him.
