2025-07-29 22:41:42Ethan took the marriage certificate from Emma’s hand with a curious brow, flipping it open and reading the content. For a second, his brows creased in confusion. Then, they shot up in disbelief.
“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath.
His eyes traced the names again: Emma Jane Robbins and Ethan Northstrum. The location—Harmony Creek Registry. The time—11:06 PM, just hours ago.
He looked up, stunned. “I swear, I didn’t see this in the envelope earlier,” he said. “I had no idea.”
Emma stared at him, arms folded, face hard to read. But inside, her mind was spinning out of control.
Married?
To this man?
How?
Why?
Tracy snatched the certificate from Ethan’s hand and gawked at it with Stella.
“This is real,” Tracy said, eyes wide. “Emma, you actually married him.”
“An ex-convict,” Stella added with disdain. “You married an ex-convict.”
Jennifer stood to the side, disgust smeared across her face. “It’s a setup,” she declared. “He planned this. Took advantage of your drunken state, faked a marriage to trap you into his pathetic little fantasy of becoming someone.”
“That’s not true,” Ethan said firmly. “I didn’t even know this happened. I was just as out of it as she was.”
Stella scoffed. “So what—Emma just walked into a marriage by herself?”
That’s when Ethan’s memories began to stir. He closed his eyes for a moment, tracing the sequence. After the fight with Cobra… carrying Emma into his private lounge… the drinks…
His eyes flew open.
Mela.
She was the one who brought the drinks.
She was the only one who hovered around.
Was it possible…?
Before he could speak, Tracy stepped forward, holding her phone. “You know what? Doesn’t matter how it happened. We’ll fix it.”
Emma looked up at her. “How?”
“Easy,” Tracy said, already dialing. “I’m calling Anthony Custin. He owes me.”
She turned around as the call connected, placing it on speaker.
“Tony!” she said cheerily. “Darling, I need a favor. Quick one.”
Anthony chuckled. “Always ready for you, Tracy. What’s up?”
“A friend of mine mistakenly married some guy last night. It was in a little registry somewhere outside the city. Can you annul it for us?”
There was a pause.
“Was it in Harmony Creek?” Anthony asked.
“Yes, exactly!”
Another pause, longer this time.
“I’m sorry, Tracy. That registry has strict procedures. No annulment can be made until after 30 days—and even then, only with strong legal grounds.”
Tracy’s face dropped. “What? Can’t you just override them from the city?”
“No can do,” Anthony replied. “They’ve got independent status. Only advice? Tell them not to consummate the marriage. That way, they’ll have grounds to invalidate it when the time comes.”
Everyone groaned as the call ended.
Stella turned to Emma, her face pale with shock. “You’re stuck. For a whole month. Married to… him.”
Jennifer scoffed. “Exactly what he wanted.”
She turned to Emma with a sneer. “Pay him off. Make him disappear till the 30 days pass. Then bury this whole mess.”
Emma sat down slowly, her body drained of strength. Her childhood friends had now turned cold. Everything she had built, everything she’d worked to maintain—her image, her circle, her dignity—felt like it was crashing down.
Tracy didn’t hold back. “I’m honestly ashamed of you, Emma. This is embarrassing. You’ve just thrown away your status.”
She picked up her handbag with disgust. “I can’t be seen around you until this mistake is erased.”
She looked at Stella. “Let’s go.”
Stella hesitated for a beat, then followed her friend to the door. But not without a final jab.
“Maybe your husband can help with that $50 million hole in your company… or win you the Enzogrande contract back.” She smirked, waved, and left.
The door closed with a heavy silence.
Jennifer stood fuming. “I should’ve left with them,” she muttered. “But I actually need this job.”
Then, glaring at Ethan: “Just know this—you ruined her life. And I’m going to make sure you pay for it.”
Emma was lost in thought, rubbing her forehead with trembling fingers. Her friends. Gone. Her status. Tarnished. Her company. Barely afloat.
Ethan stepped closer, voice low but sincere. “Emma… I’m sorry. For everything.”
She looked up.
“I think someone drugged us,” he continued. “Probably Mela, the waitress from the club. It wasn’t planned—not by me, at least.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Right. And of all people to get drugged with, it had to be our boss. Why couldn’t they match her with someone who actually has a future? Or a suit? Or a bank account?”
“That’s enough, Jennifer,” Emma said suddenly. “Leave us.”
Jennifer gawked at her. “What?”
“Leave us,” Emma repeated firmly. “Now.”
Jennifer huffed, shooting one last glare at Ethan before storming out. “I’m watching you,” she spat before slamming the door.
With the room finally quiet, Emma poured herself and Ethan a glass of champagne and sat.
Ethan noticed something. “You… still don’t remember what happened before the hotel, do you?”
Emma shook her head. “Only waking up next to you.”
Good, he thought. Then he said nothing.
Instead, she leaned back and asked, “So… what now?”
Ethan gave a half-smile. “Honestly, I’m still wondering how your so-called best friends walked away so fast. Seems their love was conditional.”
Emma sighed. “It was still hard to see. I wouldn’t have walked away from either of them.”
He nodded slowly. “Can you trust me?”
She looked into his eyes, trying to read them.
“You’re still a stranger, Ethan.”
“I get that,” he replied. “But give me a month. I’ll make sure you never regret meeting me.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “That’s a big promise.”
He raised his glass. “I’m your husband now, right? I’ll protect you. Defend your interests. Support your goals. And I’ll slap anyone who mocks you.”
Emma chuckled—just a little. Something in his voice felt like a warm fire in a winter storm.
Maybe… just maybe… she could give him time.
Before she could say anything else, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed. “It’s my mom. Grandpa’s called a family meeting.”
She answered.
Mom’s voice was calm but serious. “Emma, your grandfather is ill. He wants to meet the whole family. It’s about the Enzogrande deal.”
Emma swallowed hard. “Alright. I’ll be there.”
After hanging up, she turned to Ethan. “Can you drive?”
“Of course.”
“Good. You’re coming with me,” she said.
Ethan raised a brow.
“To the family meeting,” she continued. “But first—we’re going shopping. You need a change of clothes.”
They stepped out of the building together.
Just before they reached the car, Ethan’s phone rang. He checked the screen.
Matthew Witkov.
He answered. “Matthew?”
The elderly man’s voice was warm but apologetic. “Forgive me, Ethan. I know you asked for peace. But I wouldn’t disturb you if it wasn’t important.”
Ethan paused. “What is it?”
“It’s Enzogrande Corporation.”
Ethan’s tone shifted slightly. “What happened?”
“No issues,” Matthew assured. “But since you haven’t taken over the full Witkov empire yet, I figured… why not give you Enzogrande for a start?”
Ethan blinked.
Matthew continued, “You built that company from the shadows. It’s time you owned it officially.”
“I’m not ready to run any company,” Ethan replied.
“You won’t have to,” Matthew said. “Just sign. They’ll operate as usual. You want changes, you call the acting CEO.”
Ethan hesitated, thinking of Emma, of the pain in her eyes, of the way her friends abandoned her.
Then he smiled. “Alright. I accept.”
Matthew sounded thrilled. “Wonderful. I’m about to announce the company has just hit a $1 trillion net worth. Shall I include your name?”
“No,” Ethan said. “Keep my identity hidden. Just make the announcement.”
“As you wish.”
The call ended.
Ethan slipped his phone into his pocket, eyes hard with purpose.
“Emma Robbins,” he whispered under his breath, “I’ll keep my promise. And I’ll make every single one of them regret mocking you.”
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Chapter 239: When monsters are free to roam
Chloe stood frozen for a second in the doorway, the dam of her own pride and anger finally shattered by the night's violence. She had thought she was strong enough to handle issues as an adult. But how wrong she was. If Ethan hadn't shown up, she wouldn't have known what her fate would be by now.A sob, harsh and involuntary, ripped from her throat. She didn't step forward; instead she fell forward, collapsing into her mother’s space.Margaret’s book thudded softly to the carpet. Her arms, which hadn't held her daughter in two decades, came up instinctively, catching her, wrapping around the trembling form.And then, it all poured out. The tears were not gentle; they were a storm, hot and desperate against Margaret’s silk robe. The words were muffled, broken by gasps. "I'm sorry, Mother," Chloe sobbed, her fingers clutching at the fabric. "I was so angry with you. For leaving me behind. For twenty years. I hated you for it."She shook her head violently, burrowing closer as if she c
Chapter 238: The Glided Cage
Later that night, in a part of the city untouched by Robbins family drama, Chloe was a whirlwind of desperate motion in the center of the dance floor in one of the popular night clubs in the city—'the glided cage' as it was called.She wasn’t dancing for joy; she was trying to outrun the ghosts in her head—the mother who’d returned a stranger, the suffocating mansion, the weight of a name that felt like a cage. Jazz and rock fought for dominance in the smoky air, a chaotic soundtrack to her internal storm. She moved like a wounded animal, all frantic energy and no grace, the sharp, sweet smell of expensive gin clinging to her like a second skin.She was barely conscious of the man who sidled up to her, his smile all practiced charm. He matched her movements, said something lost to the music. In her blurred, self-destructive state, he was just another blur, a warm body offering an escape from the thoughts. Numbly, she let him lead her off the floor, up a dimly lit staircase that prom
Chapter 237: A word of gratitude
The drive home was a blur of manicured suburbs and churning thoughts. Jennifer’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her mind replaying the day’s horrors and oddities on a loop: Emma’s fragile pallor, the wrongness in "Ethan's" eyes, Rose's hissed conversation about "Frank" and "plans." By the time she pulled into the driveway of her mother’s cozy, sensible bungalow—the home she’d moved back into to save money—the anxiety had condensed into a hard, urgent knot in her chest.She found her mother, Helen, in the kitchen, the familiar, comforting scent of rosemary chicken in the oven doing little to soothe her.“Mom,” Jennifer said, her voice sounding strained even to her own ears.Helen turned, her warm, careworn face shifting from welcome to immediate concern. “Jenny? What’s wrong? How is Emma?”That was all it took. The dam broke. Jennifer slumped into a kitchen chair, the words tumbling out in a rushed, hushed torrent. She described seeing Emma—the relief, the worry. Then she
Chapter 236: Something's off
Jennifer stayed a while longer, making quiet, comforting small talk until she saw Emma’s eyelids grow heavy. She tucked the blanket around her, promised to check in tomorrow, and slipped out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.The relief of seeing Emma alive warred with a churning sense of dread in her stomach. The mansion’s usual comforting silence now felt oppressive, every shadow holding a secret. Distracted by her thoughts, she took a wrong turn at the end of the corridor, veering away from the grand staircase and into the less familiar west wing.She realized her mistake when the carpet pattern changed and the portraits on the walls became sterner, older Robbins ancestors. She was about to turn back when a sharp, tense voice sliced through the quiet from a half-open door down the hall.“…don’t care what you think, Frank. The timing is too convenient.”Jennifer froze. It was Rose Robbins’ voice, stripped of its usual theatrical warmth, sharp with frustration and somet
Chapter 235: The imposter
Jennifer stood on the gravel drive for a moment longer, the seed of doubt now a cold, sprouting vine in her chest. The press continued to clamor, but their noise faded into a dull roar as she focused on the closed mansion door. That blank look in his eyes, the seamless, theatrical recovery… no one she knew that well could forget her face entirely, even under extreme stress. A skilled actor could.Steeling herself, she approached the main entrance. The butler, recognizing her, opened the door with a solemn nod, ushering her into the cool, hushed grandeur of the foyer.The air inside was thick with a strange, tense stillness, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. In the main living room, she saw Elizabeth Robbins standing by the fireplace, her posture rigid with a relief that looked almost painful. Beside her was an elegant, unfamiliar woman with sharp, assessing eyes—Margaret, though Jennifer didn’t know that yet.“Jennifer,” Elizabeth said, her voice soft and drained. She offered a
Chapter 234: The cracked mask
The news of Emma Robbins' return broke like a sonic boom across the city. By morning, it was the singular topic on every news outlet, a frantic churn of speculation with depressingly little fact. The lack of official details—no police statement, no family press conference—created a vacuum that gossip and sensationalism rushed to fill.By mid-afternoon, a small but determined pack of journalists and camera crews had gathered at the wrought-iron gates of the Robbins estate, their voices a buzzing, insistent hum. Microphones were thrust toward the intercom. Demands were shouted."What can you tell us about Emma's condition?""Was a ransom paid?""Who was responsible?""Mrs. Robbins! Can you give us a statement?"Inside, the family watched the growing spectacle on security monitors with a mix of exhaustion and dread. The private nightmare was now public property."It has to be addressed," Margaret said, her tone clinical. "Controlled disclosure is better than rampant speculation."Nathan
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