Chapter 21 Trouble in Tara's Treasures
The night air was thick with the weight of regret.
Liam leaned against his car, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Chase, who sat slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window. The man was a mess—moaning and groaning like a wounded animal, words spilling from his lips in broken confessions.
"I'm such an idiot," Chase muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers dug into his temples, his breath ragged. "God, I'm supposed to be getting married in a few months. Married." His voice cracked on the last word. He turned his head slightly, staring at nothing, lost in the chaos of his thoughts. "I was so excited to see her in that gown, man. I could picture it. The way she'd look at me... like I was the only guy in the world. And when we danced..." He exhaled a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. "We picked 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri. That was our song. Forever. That's what it was supposed to mean."
Liam stayed silent, letting Chase empty himself. Sometimes, words were just a bandage over wounds too deep to heal in a single night.
"I haven't been the same for a while." Chase let out a bitter laugh, rubbing his hands over his face, his fingers trembling slightly. "I don't even know when it started. Maybe work. Maybe all of it. But... I feel like I'm drowning. And Hallie—" He stopped, shaking his head. "I know what everyone's been saying about her. I hear it, I do. I just—I can't believe it. I can't let myself believe it. That would mean..." His voice broke again, softer this time. "That would mean I ruined everything for nothing."
Liam clenched his jaw, staring at Chase as his friend cracked apart in front of him. He wanted to tell him that it would all be okay, that things would work out. But he couldn't lie. Not to Chase.
Before he could say anything, the sound of footsteps against pavement drew his attention. Travis approached; his brows furrowed as he took in Chase's wrecked state.
"He's done for the night," Liam said quietly. He hated seeing his friend like this, but Chase deserved to reap what he sowed.
Travis sighed. "Are you okay to drive?"
They exchanged a look, an entire conversation passing between them in silence. There was nothing to be done tonight—nothing except making sure Chase wasn't alone.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to get him home. He'll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," Liam said, gesturing to Chase.
After a few more words, the night wound to a close. Travis clapped Liam on the shoulder before heading off, leaving him alone with Chase. With a heavy sigh, Liam pulled out his phone, fingers hovering over Hallie's contact before finally typing out a message:
Chase isn't feeling good. Are you coming to take care of him? If not, I'll stay with him.
Hallie immediately responded,
"On my way."
Hallie tossed her phone aside and immediately started getting dressed, packing the new clothes Ryder had bought for her into a sleek overnight bag. She didn't want to show up looking anything less than perfect. As she slid behind the wheel of her car and headed for the Blackwood penthouse—the home Chase had shared with Emilia—bitterness twisted inside her like a coiled snake.
She had spent years waiting for the day Emilia would finally be out of the picture. And now? Maybe this time, she really was.
When she reached the penthouse, Hallie hesitated for only a second before punching in the passcode. On the third try, she got it right. A smug smirk curled her lips. Chase's security code? Still Emilia's birthday and their engagement date. Pathetic.
Hallie rolled her eyes as she stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.
A flash of memory hit her like a gut punch. The day Chase had proposed to Emilia—she remembered it all too well. They had just watched Emilia's graduation ceremony, the girl beaming with joy as she accepted her diploma, four years younger than the rest of them but always ahead. Chase had orchestrated an elaborate, romantic proposal at Emilia's favorite restaurant, complete with candles, music, and a ring that sparkled almost as much as the love in his eyes. Hallie remembered how everyone had gushed about it in their group chat, the way Emilia had been stunned into happy tears.
And Hallie? She had smiled, played her part, and swallowed the ache in her chest. No man had ever gone above and beyond for her like that. Not once. At one point, Ryder almost did but then would mention his stupid wife.
Shaking the thought away, she took a slow, deliberate step inside. The place felt... lifeless. No framed photos of Emilia and Chase. No lingering scent of her perfume. It was as if she had never lived here at all.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Hallie's lips. Finally.
Hallie lounged on the couch, draping herself in satisfaction. She had won. Emilia was gone, and Chase was hers. But it wasn't enough. Hallie had always been jealous of Emilia—not just for Chase, but for everything. Emilia was brilliant, effortlessly charming, and stunningly beautiful. Everyone loved her. That was the real reason Hallie had wanted her gone. Chase had been just one piece of it. Now, she had secured her place, but she had made sure she had options lined up, just in case.
Her hand drifted to her belly, caressing her almost 6th month bump beneath her dress. This time, there was no one left to stop her.
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Emilia groaned as she sat up, rubbing her temples as a dull headache pulsed behind her eyes. The air was thick with the scent of last night's cocktails, and the soft hum of the city outside only made her head throb harder. Roxy wasn't faring any better—she was sprawled across the bed, half-buried in blankets, groaning something unintelligible.
"Ugh. How much did we drink?" Roxy muttered, peeking out from under a pillow, her voice scratchy with sleep.
Em swung her legs over the bed and stretched, feeling the lingering buzz of exhaustion in her muscles. "Enough to regret it. But don't worry, I've got the cure."
Henry had left for Hong Kong yesterday, and though she already missed him, she welcomed the distraction of a day out with Roxy.
Dragging herself downstairs, she made a beeline for the kitchen, tying her hair into a messy bun as she rummaged through the fridge. She grabbed fresh ginger, garlic, green onions, and a carton of homemade broth. The rhythmic chop of her knife against the wooden cutting board filled the quiet kitchen as she worked, slicing the ingredients with practiced ease.
She set a pot on the stove, drizzling in sesame oil before tossing in the ginger and garlic, the sizzle releasing a fragrant, soothing aroma. The scent alone seemed to clear some of the fog in her head. Next, she poured in the broth, watching as steam curled from the pot. She added a splash of soy sauce, a dash of chili flakes for warmth, and let the flavors meld together.
Meanwhile, she cracked an egg into a bowl, whisking it lightly before slowly drizzling it into the bubbling broth, creating delicate ribbons of egg. She sprinkled in finely chopped green onions and gave it one last stir before ladling the golden soup into two bowls.
By the time the soup was ready, Roxy had stumbled into the kitchen, her hair an untamed mess. She inhaled deeply before dramatically collapsing into a chair. "If that soup were a man, I'd marry it."
Em snorted, rolling her eyes as she set two steaming bowls on the table. "I'll let it know you're interested."
As they sipped their coffee, Emilia lazily flipped open the newspaper—only to nearly choke.
Right there on the cover was a steamy photo of Hallie Rogers and Ryder Evans, locked in an intimate kiss at a doorway. Hallie was wrapped in nothing but a towel, Ryder's hands gripping her waist possessively.
"Oh. My. God," Em breathed.
Roxy took one look at the photo and burst out laughing. "I knew she was a snake, but damn, even I wasn't expecting this. Our girl Hallie moves fast-and apparently, straight out of Chase's bed into Ryder's!"
Em shook her head, still in shock. "What even is this timeline?"
Roxy smirked, sipping her coffee. "Honestly? Entertainment. Now, what are we doing today? I need a distraction from my headache and whatever the hell that mess is."
Em sighed, folding the newspaper. "Shopping. Lunch. A movie."
Roxy grinned. "Now that is a plan. Let's get dressed."
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The women hit the high-end shopping district with renewed energy, the hangovers fading as soon as they stepped into their first boutique.
"Alright, mission: make Emilia look hot and spend Chase's entire mental real estate on regret," Roxy declared, pulling a sleek black dress off a rack. "Try this on. No arguments."
Em laughed but complied, slipping into the dress and stepping out of the fitting room. The fabric hugged her curves, the hem brushing high up her thighs, accentuating her hourglass figure in a way that made her feel...bold. Confident. Dangerous.
She turned, admiring herself in the mirror, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. Maybe she should have been dressing like this more often. Feeling a surge of playfulness, she pulled out her phone, snapped a quick selfie, and texted Henry.
Emilia: I'm thinking of getting this. What do we think? Too much?
His response was nearly instant.
Henry: Too much? Sweetheart, the real question is, do I need to cancel all my meetings just to fly over and personally take that dress off you?
Emilia's cheeks flushed as she read his words, a mix of thrill and amusement sparking in her chest.
Roxy, ever the observer, smirked. "Oh-ho! What did lover boy say?"
Em cleared her throat, locking her phone. "Nothing! Just...uh, Henry being Henry."
Roxy grinned wickedly. "Oh, please. I have never seen you turn that shade of red. What did he say? Wait, let me guess-something filthy?"
"Roxy!" Em whined, covering her face as Roxy cackled.
Still laughing, Roxy scanned the boutique, her eyes landing on something truly scandalous. "Okay, if we're doing this, let's go all in. Try this on."
She held up a barely-there black mesh dress, strategically placed squares covering just enough.
Em turned even redder. "Roxy. That is not a dress. That is a suggestion of a dress."
"Exactly! Now go try it on."
Em, laughing despite herself, grabbed the dress and went to the fitting room. When she emerged, she had to admit-it was jaw-dropping.
She took another selfie, biting her lip before sending it to Henry.
Emilia: This one might be illegal in some countries. Thoughts?
Emilia's phone rang, and her heart did a little flip. She immediately answered, her voice playful. "Impatient, are we?"
Henry's deep chuckle sent a delicious shiver down her spine. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea. Do you have any clue what you're doing to me? I'm stuck in meetings, and all I can think about is that damn dress-and how much I want to take it off you."
Emilia bit her lip, warmth spreading through her like wildfire. "Is that so?"
"Mmm. In fact, I think we should roleplay for a moment. Let's pretend I'm there. I walk into that fitting room, and what do I see? My gorgeous wife in a dress so sinful, it should be illegal."
She swallowed, her breath hitching. "And what would you do about it?"
Henry's voice dropped to a low, sinful growl. "Let's just say, sweetheart, you wouldn't be leaving that boutique wearing it."
Emilia sucked in a breath, her cheeks flaming. "Henry, you're dangerous."
"And you, darling, are torturing me." His tone softened, teasing. "Now, tell me the name of that boutique. I think I need to buy their entire collection for you."
She rolled her eyes, laughing. "It's Tara's Treasures, and you most definitely do not need to buy the whole store."
"Well, that's debatable," he mused. "I like the idea of you draped in every little thing they sell."
"You are unbelievable."
"And yet, you adore me."
"Unfortunately," she sighed dramatically.
His chuckle was pure mischief. "Tell me about your day, love. What's my girl up to?"
"Well, at the moment, I'm trying to pay for my purchases like a normal human being, but some troublemaker is determined to turn me into a spoiled heiress."
"That troublemaker sounds like an incredible man."
She snorted. "Debatable."
Henry laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, go on. What's next on your very glamorous agenda?"
"After this, I'm heading to a movie with Roxanne."
"Ah, Roxanne. The same best friend who thought a pet squirrel would enhance your life?"
"She had a vision, okay?" Emilia giggled. "And yes, that Roxanne."
"Well, tell her I approve of her influence. What are you two watching?"
"Some ridiculous rom-com she swears will restore my faith in love and romance."
Henry hummed. "You know, I haven't been to a movie in years."
Emilia gasped. "Excuse me, what?"
"I know, tragic," he admitted. "Feel free to pity me."
"Forget pity. I'm fixing this immediately. When you get back, I'm taking you out-dinner and a movie, my treat."
His voice turned wicked. "Oh? You mean, like a date? Are you asking me out, Mrs. Kingsley?"
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "I am, and you better say yes."
"Hm, let me think..." he teased. "Dinner and a movie? With the most stunning woman alive?" He let out a dramatic sigh. "I suppose I could clear my schedule."
She giggled. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you adore me."
"You already said that."
"Just making sure it sinks in."
She shook her head, unable to fight her grin. But before she could respond, Henry sighed. "I hate to do this, love, but I've got a few more meetings to suffer through. I'll call you later?"
"I'll be looking forward to it."
"Good. Enjoy your movie. And remember-no squirrels."
"No promises," she teased before hanging up.
Still smiling, she walked up to the counter. Roxanne leaned in, nudging her. "You're literally glowing."
Emilia ignored her, reaching for her wallet. But before she could pay, a middle-aged woman appeared from the back, looking like she'd just won the lottery.
"Mrs. Kingsley, it has been an absolute honor having you shop in my store for the past hour." The woman clasped her hands together, beaming. "All the items will be shipped to you by tomorrow. Thank you so much."
Emilia blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
Roxanne looked equally confused. "Wait... what just happened?"
And then it hit her.
Her eyes widened.
"Oh my god."
Damn Henry.
Roxanne whistled, impressed. "Girl, your man just bought you a store."
Emilia groaned. "I am going to kill him."
Roxanne smirked. "No, you're not. But you are going to have the best-dressed closet in the city."
Emilia sighed, shaking her head. Henry Kingsley was in so much trouble when he called her later.
And yet... she couldn't stop smiling.
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The restaurant hummed with quiet luxury, the low murmur of conversation blending with the clink of fine glassware. Henry leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping absently against his whiskey glass as his business associates discussed upcoming ventures. The evening had been productive, but his mind had wandered more than once—straight to Emilia.
It was early for her back home, but that didn't stop the familiar ache of missing her. His fingers itched to send her a message, just to hear from her, but he hesitated. Instead, as the conversation lulled, he glanced toward Mei-Ling, one of his longtime business partners.
"I need your expertise," Henry said, setting his drink down.
Mei-Ling raised a perfectly arched brow. "Oh? Business or personal?"
"Personal." A rare smile pulled at his lips. "I need to find a gift for my fiancée."
Silence fell over the table. His associates, men and women who had known him for years, stared at him as if he had just announced he was leaving the corporate world to become a monk.
"Fiancée?" Mei-Ling echoed, eyes wide.
Henry smirked at their reactions before pulling his phone from his pocket. "Her name is Emilia," he said, scrolling through his camera roll. When he found the picture—the one that made something warm and possessive tighten in his chest—he turned the screen toward them.
It was Emilia, in the kitchen, mid-laugh as she baked. Flour dusted her cheeks, and her hair was a mess, but to him, she had never looked more beautiful.
Mei-Ling let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest. "Oh, she's adorable!"
"She's gorgeous," another woman added.
The older businessman at the table chuckled. "I have never seen you like this, Henry. This is new."
Henry glanced at the photo again, a soft exhale leaving him. "She makes me happy," he admitted simply.
And just like that, the mood shifted. Suddenly, everyone at the table became invested in helping him find the perfect gift. Ideas were thrown around—luxury handbags, designer shoes, rare perfumes—but Henry wanted something personal.
Mei-Ling, ever the expert, finally leaned in. "Leave it to me. Tomorrow, I'll take you to the best places. We'll find something that screams her."
Henry nodded, pleased. Because if he was bringing something back for Emilia, it had to be perfect.
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The next afternoon, the crisp Hong Kong air carried the scent of freshly brewed tea and expensive leather as Henry strolled through one of the city's most exclusive shopping districts. He had already picked up a silk scarf for his mother and a rare antique watch for his father, but now—now was Emilia's turn.
Inside a renowned jewelry store, Henry examined an intricate bracelet, the diamonds catching the light in a way that reminded him of the way Emilia's eyes sparkled when she was amused. The salesperson spoke animatedly about its craftsmanship, but before Henry could decide—
Buzz.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
Henry barely spared the salesperson a glance as he fished it out. The moment he saw Emilia's name on the screen, every single thought in his head scattered.
His heart stalled, then kicked into overdrive.
The salesperson kept talking, but Henry wasn't listening. He nearly fumbled his phone in his haste to unlock it. She had texted him.
And just like that, the composed, ruthless Henry Kingsley—the man who could command a boardroom with a single look—was reduced to an absolute mess.
Then he opened the message.
Henry swore under his breath.
Emilia had sent photos—dangerous photos. Dresses that clung to her in ways that made his blood heat, one of which was barely a suggestion of a dress, just sheer mesh and strategically placed squares.
He dragged a hand down his face, stifling a groan. He was supposed to be picking out gifts for her, not mentally booking the next flight home.
Mei-Ling, standing beside him, peered over at his screen before letting out a low whistle. "That's her?" she mused. "I see why you're so smitten."
Henry shot her a look. "You're not helping."
She only laughed. "Oh, but I am. You better pick out something spectacular after that."
Henry exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. But one thing was certain—he was absolutely, ridiculously in like with this woman. And when he got home, he was going to make damn sure she knew it.