Chapter 23 A Compass to You
A Few Days Later
Emilia wandered through the grand hallways of her newly renovated mansion, her fingertips grazing the sleek walls painted in the shades she had so carefully chosen. The house had always been a masterpiece of modern architecture—clean lines, high ceilings, an effortless blend of sophistication and comfort. But now, after weeks of overseeing renovations, it truly felt like home.
There were still small touches left to perfect, but none of that mattered in this moment. She stepped lightly across the marble floors, her heart fluttering with anticipation. The real masterpiece, the one space she had poured her soul into, was just ahead.
With a deep breath, Emilia pushed open the double doors to the library.
Her breath hitched at the sight before her. Towering bookshelves reached the ceiling, their dark wood rich and inviting. A grand staircase wound its way to the second level, its intricate railings adding an air of timeless elegance. Gold-accented ladders rolled along the shelves, while warm lighting cascaded down in soft golden hues.
It was perfect.
A massive arched window bathed the room in natural light, illuminating the deep emerald and navy tones woven into the luxurious rug. At the heart of the space, a fireplace of black marble and gold trim stood regal and commanding, its intricate carvings whispering of stories yet to be told. Before it sat a midnight blue velvet couch, accompanied by oversized armchairs and cashmere throws—an invitation to comfort, warmth, and belonging.
She could already see it.
Henry, sitting on that couch, a book in his hands, his voice smooth as he read aloud to her. The fire crackling, its warmth wrapping around them as they curled up beneath a shared blanket. The thought sent a thrill through her.
Then, another vision. One even more profound.
A smaller body nestled between them, tiny hands clutching a book, wide eyes filled with wonder. Their child. Maybe two. Maybe more. A family—their family—spending nights lost in stories, wrapped in love and warmth. The sheer weight of that realization sent a shiver down her spine. It was one thing to dream of a beautiful future, but another to feel it so vividly.
Tears pricked her eyes, emotions flooding in waves—gratitude, anticipation, love. This was her life. And the future? If this was just the beginning, then the future would be nothing short of extraordinary.
Henry had no idea what was waiting for him behind these doors. No idea how deeply she had listened, how much she had loved him in every detail of this space. Every choice—the leather armchair tucked into the library corner, the jazz records waiting by the vintage player, the brass compass placed deliberately on the bookshelf—was a quiet confession of how much he meant to her.
Soon, he would step into this room, and she would see it—the exact moment when he realized what this place truly meant.
And that moment would be everything.
After getting off the phone with Henry, Emilia took a deep breath, letting his words settle over her like a warm embrace. She put a few more things away, straightening the already perfect space, before grabbing her bag and heading out for the day.
Her plans were simple—relax, unwind, and spend time with Roxy. One last easy, carefree afternoon before stepping back into work tomorrow. And after the way this day had gone, she needed it.
A Few Hours Later
Emilia's phone lit up as she stepped into Travis's penthouse, Henry's message arriving with a photo of Hong Kong's dazzling neon lights. The colors—vivid blues, reds, and golds—reflected off the rain-slicked pavement, giving the entire scene a dreamlike glow. A poetic message followed:
"Good morning, my star. As my night ends, yours begins, and yet, you still light up my world even from across the ocean. Sleep well, neon city—my favorite view is wherever you are."
A soft smile tugged at Emilia's lips. Henry always had a way of making her feel seen, even from thousands of miles away. A stark contrast to Chase, who would let two whole weeks slip by without so much as a text. She used to tell herself she was being needy—that expecting consistency was too much. But Henry proved otherwise.
Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Emilia: Good morning, world traveler. Hope your business deals went well. That picture is stunning—I can practically hear the city buzzing from here.
Henry: You'd love it here, Em. So much life, so much color. Almost makes me wish I had a neon sign that just says 'Emilia' so everyone would know how much you light up my life.
Emilia: You are such a menace. But also, I approve. Make it pink and gold.
Henry: Done. It'll be the grandest sign in Hong Kong. They'll have no choice but to name a street after you.
She laughed, shaking her head, fully imagining Henry making something like that happen.
Henry: Speaking of which, I have some good news—I'll be flying home in two days.
Emilia practically squealed, immediately typing back.
Emilia: Finally! I was about to start sending out missing person flyers. "Last seen being too suave in Hong Kong."
Henry: Ah, so you do miss me.
Emilia: Tolerate. The word is tolerate.
Henry: Ouch. My ego may never recover.
Emilia: You'll live. Now, I can't wait for you to see the place. Everything is turning out simply enchanting!
Henry: Oh? Tell me everything.
She described every detail—the plush leather armchair tucked into the corner of the library, the mahogany coffee table where she had already placed a stack of Henry's favorite first editions, and the vintage record player she found after weeks of searching, now sitting beside a carefully curated collection of jazz records he loved. The bookshelves weren't just filled with novels but with small mementos—framed photographs, a brass compass he once mentioned admiring, and a delicate glass paperweight shaped like a star. Each item, each carefully chosen piece, was a reflection of them. She left out a few surprises, just to see his reaction in person.
Emilia: I can't wait to see your reaction. Everything should be done in two days.
Henry: That makes me so happy, Em. Our home, finally.
Emilia hesitated for a moment before typing again.
Emilia: You know, I was thinking... when you're back, I'd love for you to meet my friends properly. Roxy, Travis, even Yanique. They're basically my family, and I want them to know you.
There was a pause before Henry's response came through, and when it did, her heart stuttered.
Henry: Em, I love that you said that because I was thinking the exact same thing. I want you to meet my friends too—Cayden, Jack, the whole chaos squad. What if we host something? A housewarming, maybe? Bring everyone together.
A grin spread across her lips.
Emilia: Ohhh, I like this plan. Wine, music, excessive charcuterie boards... it'll be perfect.
Henry: And if it's our party, you realize that means we get to sneak away halfway through, right?
Emilia: We'll see.
Henry: Oh, we will.
Her stomach fluttered at the promise in his words, but before she could respond, another message popped up.
Henry: By the way, Cayden's bringing the rest of my stuff over to the new place tomorrow. Will you be home?
She exhaled, conflicted.
Emilia: I wish, but I have to work.
The moment she mentioned work, something in her chest tightened. She didn't even realize she had gone silent until her phone buzzed with an incoming call.
She answered with a small laugh. "Couldn't even wait a minute?"
"Not when my girl suddenly goes quiet on me," Henry's voice was smooth, teasing. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Did your boss finally realize you're actually a spy and fire you?"
A small chuckle escaped her. "If only."
"Hm, so that's not it." He sighed dramatically. "Then I suppose I'll just have to keep guessing. Did Roxy finally go too far with her 'random animal facts' phase? Or maybe Travis declared himself King of New York and you're sworn into his royal service?"
She smiled despite the weight on her chest. "It's work."
His tone softened immediately. "Talk to me, Em. What happened?"
Emilia swallowed, then exhaled. "It's Chase."
Silence. Then, a sharp inhale. "What. Did. He. Do?"
She hesitated, her fingers absently tracing the spine of one of Henry's favorite first editions on the bookshelf. The familiar texture grounded her, the book a quiet reminder of him—his presence, his unwavering steadiness.
"He—he pulled strings again," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Technically, it was Hallie—his childhood sweetheart—who caused the issue. But Chase backed her. He used his family's name to pressure the board, to influence decisions that should have never been his to make." She swallowed hard. "A doctor I really respect was caught in the middle, and it turned into a nightmare. And now... I don't know. I feel like no matter how hard I fight, they'll always win."
The silence on the other end wasn't empty. It was charged.
Then, Henry's voice came, low and smooth—too smooth. "Let me get this straight. That entitled bastard is still using his last name as a weapon, screwing with the career of the woman I love?"
Her breath hitched. Love. He said it so naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Henry—"
"No, sweetheart," he cut her off, voice silk wrapped around steel. "I need you to understand something. He doesn't get to do this to you. Not anymore. He doesn't get to make you feel powerless, not while I'm around."
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't just reassurance. It was a promise. A quiet, lethal vow from a man who did not lose.
She let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers harder against the book's spine. "Henry, I don't need you to fight my battles."
"I know," he murmured. "But that doesn't mean I won't stand beside you while you fight them."
His voice was calm, but Emilia knew Henry too well—knew that beneath that steady exterior, something dangerous was unfurling. He wasn't just angry; he was already thinking, already calculating.
Henry Kingsley didn't make empty threats.
A thought struck her. "Henry... what are you going to do?"
A pause. Then, with maddening ease, he said, "Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart."
Her stomach flipped. "Henry."
He sighed, like he was indulging her. "Let's just say... someone should remind Chase that he's not nearly as untouchable as he thinks he is."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "Henry, please don't—"
"I'll be careful," he assured her, but there was something razor-sharp in his voice. "But make no mistake, Em. No one—no one—gets to pull shit like this against you and walk away without consequences."
Her chest tightened. It should have scared her, the weight behind his words. But it didn't. It just made her feel safe.
She swallowed hard. "You always say the perfect thing, you know that?"
A smirk slipped into his voice. "It's part of my charm."
She exhaled, tension melting slightly. "God, I can't wait for you to come home."
"Two more days, baby," Henry promised, low and steady. "And when I get back? We're handling this together."
And just like that, the weight on her shoulders felt just a little bit lighter.
Emilia pushed through the front door, the scent of warm pancakes filling the air as she held up the IHOP bag triumphantly. "Breakfast is better in the afternoon—don't fight me on this!"
Roxy, sprawled out on the living room floor with a book, barely glanced up. "That smells like heaven. Please tell me you got extra syrup."
Emilia scoffed. "Who do you think I am? A monster? Of course, I got extra syrup. And whipped cream. And extra hash browns because I love you."
Roxy shut her book with dramatic flair and crawled over. "You really do love me. I take back every mean thing I said about your driving."
Emilia gasped in mock offense. "First of all, my driving is excellent. Second, I'm revoking your extra syrup privilege."
"No!" Roxy lunged for the bag like a desperate woman. "Fine, your driving is decent."
As they dug into their food, Emilia took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about what happened at the hospital last week."
Roxy frowned. "Oh? Spill."
Emilia sighed. "Dr. Michaels wanted to treat a patient she had a connection with. It turned into a whole ethical debate. The board got involved, and it became a mess. It really got me thinking."
"Thinking how?"
She hesitated. "I love what I do, Roxy. But I don't know if I can keep fighting these battles. Chase's family has so much influence, and it's exhausting."
Roxy leaned forward. "Em, don't let those rich assholes take away something you love. You're damn good at what you do. If you stay, you fight. And if you fight? You win."
A small smile tugged at Emilia's lips. "Thanks, Roxy."
"That's what sisters are for. Now, hurry up and eat before your pancakes get cold."
As Emilia took another bite, the weight on her shoulders felt just a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, she was ready for the battle ahead.