Chapter 72 Ghosts Don't Knock
The boat ride back to the city was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was the kind of silence that came after a long conversation, the kind that let thoughts settle and take shape. The hum of the motor and the rhythmic splash of the water were the only sounds, steady and unchanging.
Henry sat with his elbows on his knees, rolling the locket between his fingers. He wasn't even looking at it—just feeling the weight of it in his palm, the cool metal against his skin. A piece of the past, lingering when he didn't know if he still wanted to carry it.
He had forgotten about the locket entirely. He hadn't even known Zoey had received it all these years ago because she never wore it, never let it be seen. And yet, there it was. Resurfacing now, of all times.
Henry had been excited to ask his mom for the pendant at the family dinner—to officially announce their wedding date, to mark a new chapter. This was supposed to be a blissful weekend. But instead, it had unraveled into a nightmare.
Zoey had been accepted. That fact should have meant something. Years ago, it would have been all he wanted. But sitting here now, with Emilia just a few feet away, he felt... unsettled.
Not because of Emilia. Never because of her.
His family had embraced her without hesitation. They loved her, trusted her. She was one of them in a way Zoey had never been. And maybe that was the part that haunted him most.
They had seen Zoey. They had seen the things he refused to acknowledge back then—the way she dismissed him, the way she made him feel like love was something he had to earn. He used to think their hesitation was unfair, that they just didn't understand what he and Zoey had.
But now? Now, it was painfully clear. His family had been right all along.
A memory surfaced unbidden—Zoey at one of his family gatherings, her lips curled into a barely restrained sneer when his mother had offered her a family heirloom. "I don't do hand-me-downs," she had said with a light laugh, brushing off the gesture. He had laughed with her then, ignoring the flicker of disappointment in his mother's eyes. A flicker he now understood all too well.
His fingers curled around the locket. The past version of himself—the one who would have given anything for Zoey's acceptance—felt so distant now. It wasn't bitterness, not exactly. Just a quiet kind of grief for the years he had wasted on someone who had never really been his home.
And then, as if sensing the weight in his chest, Emilia shifted beside him.
Henry blinked, looking up at her. She was watching him, head tilted slightly, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. She knew something was on his mind. She always knew.
The words caught in his throat. He didn't know how to explain it—that strange mix of guilt and relief, of regret and gratitude. He had been so blind before. And yet, somehow, he had still found his way here. To her.
Instead of answering, he reached out, taking her hand in his. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, grounding himself in the warmth of her touch.
Emilia studied him for a moment, then gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Good."
She didn't push for more. She never did. And maybe that was why Henry knew, with absolute certainty, that he had finally gotten it right.
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As the boat pulled into the dock, the city lights stretched across the water, shimmering reflections rippling with the movement of the waves. The hum of the engine quieted, and the silence between Henry and Emilia settled into something calmer. Not heavy with doubt, not weighed down by the past—just steady. Grounded.
Henry didn't let go of her hand as they stepped onto the dock, and Emilia didn't pull away. If anything, her grip tightened just slightly, as if to remind him that she was there, that she wasn't going anywhere.
Ahead, the family was already waiting. Caleb stood at the center; his expression drawn tight with focus. Linda and Elias were close by, deep in conversation, while Jason and Beau hovered nearby, their usual easygoing attitudes replaced with something more serious.
It hit Henry then, how much had changed in just a few hours. What started as a quiet evening had unraveled into something bigger, something none of them could ignore.
Caleb noticed them first, his sharp gaze sweeping over Henry before flicking to Emilia, taking in the way they stood close together. There was no judgment there, no questioning—just an unspoken understanding.
Henry stepped off the boat with unwavering focus, Emilia at his side. His mind was set—if Zoey was alive and trying something, he needed to get ahead of it. He refused to let his past unravel the life he had built. Their life. This wasn't just about him anymore.
Henry exhaled, running a hand through his hair before stepping forward. "Alright," he said. "Let's talk."
The group moved toward the cars waiting near the dock, but before Henry could follow, Linda touched his arm, stopping him.
Henry hesitated, but only for a second. He glanced at Emilia, who had stepped ahead, now talking quietly with Elias. The sight of her—standing among his people, her people—settled something deep in his chest.
Linda reached for his hand, giving it a small but firm squeeze. "Whatever happens, we stand together. Understand?"
Henry nodded, feeling a quiet steadiness settle inside him. "Yeah," he said. "I do."
And for the first time in a long time, he meant it.
His family stood near the cars, waiting. Caleb's sharp gaze met Henry's as he approached, but Henry didn't wait for questions. He took charge.
Elias nodded. "I'll send extra funds to keep the search going," he said, looking at Caleb. "We need to confirm if Zoey is really out there or if someone else is using her name."
Caleb pulled out his phone. "You got it." He was already typing when Beau suddenly spoke up.
Caleb frowned. "Tested? What is it?"
Beau reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a large bag. Inside was an ornate music box, its surface pristine, its delicate carvings untouched. It looked like a beautiful gift, something harmless—except for the way Beau held it. Like he knew better.
The room shifted around them. The air thickened. No one spoke.
Henry narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"
Beau exhaled. "A gift. For Emilia."
Silence fell over the group.
Beau clenched his jaw. "It was delivered earlier, addressed to her. No return name, no sender information." He hesitated, then continued, "I intercepted it before she could open it. It looked fine at first. But I had a hunch—something felt off. I ran it past a contact of mine, someone who specializes in hazardous materials. The second it's opened, it sprays something. A chemical. And there's glass shards inside, rigged to shatter outward. Even a small exposure could've left Emilia unconscious—or worse."
Henry's breath left him in a sharp exhale, his stomach twisting into a cold, controlled fury.
Beau's voice was steady but grim. "The dispersal system was fine-tuned. This wasn't meant to scare her. It was meant to take her out."
Henry's breath left him in a sharp exhale, his stomach twisting into a cold, controlled fury.
She shook her head, eyes wide. "No. I didn't even know it existed."
Henry turned back to Beau. "You're telling me someone sent this to her, knowing it could hurt her?"
Beau nodded. "Yeah. And I don't think it was meant to be a warning."
A slow, simmering rage filled Henry's chest.
Caleb grabbed the bag, his expression unreadable. "I'll get my guys to run a full analysis. Prints, chemical breakdown, everything. We'll find out who sent this."
Silence stretched between them again before Linda finally spoke, her voice soft but firm.
No one objected.
Because this wasn't just about old ghosts or unanswered questions anymore.
Someone was trying to hurt Emilia.
And Henry wouldn't rest until he found out who.
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The drive back to the estate was thick with tension, the kind that hummed just beneath the surface, waiting to snap. The night outside was endless, the headlights carving through the darkness, but inside the car, the silence was suffocating.
Henry's hands gripped the steering wheel like he was trying to crush it, his knuckles pale against the leather. [This novel is available exclusively for free on Wattpad. If you find it published anywhere else, it has been stolen. Please report any unauthorized copies. Thank you for your support!] He hadn't spoken since they got in, hadn't even looked at Emilia, but she could feel it—his fury, controlled and cold, barely restrained beneath his steady breathing.
She reached out, resting her hand on his forearm, her fingers light but firm. He didn't pull away. Instead, after a beat, she felt the tension shift, just slightly, like her touch was the only thing tethering him.
From the backseat, Jason clicked his tongue. "So... we're all just gonna sit in brooding silence, huh? Real cinematic, but kinda unsettling."
Henry didn't react. Neither did Emilia.
Jason sighed. "Cool, I'll just keep talking then."
Beau cut him off, his voice even. "It wasn't random."
Henry's grip on the wheel tightened. "No. It wasn't."
Jason sat up a little. "So, are we thinking a warning, or a message?"
Beau exhaled, shaking his head. "Maybe both."
Emilia swallowed hard. Someone had sent that package, knowing exactly what it would do. Knowing it had her name on it.
Jason let out a low whistle. "Great. Love a good mystery. Can't wait to find out which psycho put Em on their hit list." He leaned forward. "But just for the record, Henry, if you're planning some ruthless, revenge-fueled rampage, give me a heads-up. Wanna grab popcorn."
Henry's voice was quiet, steady. "I'm handling it."
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
Emilia glanced at him, at the sharp edge in his profile, the storm in his eyes when he finally—finally—met her gaze.
And she knew, without a doubt, that whoever had done this had just made the worst mistake of their life.
At the Estate
The moment they stepped inside, Linda locked the doors behind them, her movements swift and tense. The house, once a place of comfort, now felt like a barricade—sealing them in, sealing the threat out.
Caleb had left immediately, back to his office to pull every string he could. But his absence only made the silence heavier, thick with unspoken fears.
Henry stood near the fireplace, his back rigid, his fists clenched so tightly his nails nearly broke the skin. His entire body was a live wire, a pulse of rage just waiting for an outlet.
Elias watched him carefully. "Until we know who's behind this, you need to be extra careful."
Henry barely acknowledged the words. His focus was razor-sharp, locked on only one thing—Emilia.
Jason let out a slow breath, breaking the tension. "What if this isn't about Zoey?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious.
The room stilled.
No one wanted to say it, but the truth was undeniable—Zoey was already a ghost, her chapter in their lives long since closed.
This?
This was something else. Something calculated. Something new.
Emilia wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake the chill creeping into her bones. The weight of their fear, Henry's anger, pressed against her like a tangible force.
And then Henry moved.
In an instant, he was in front of her, his hands sliding to her arms, his touch firm but gentle. His gaze burned into hers, fierce, unwavering.
A warning.
A death sentence for whoever had dared to make her a target.
After the initial chaos, Emilia found Henry alone in the hallway, leaning against the wall, his head tilted back. The dim lighting cast shadows over his face, but it did nothing to hide the storm in his eyes.
She didn't say anything at first, just watched the way his chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths—like he was barely holding himself together.
His gaze flicked to her, and for a fleeting second, something in him softened. A crack in the armor. But then, just as quickly, the steel returned.
Emilia frowned. "How? None of us knew—"
The raw intensity in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand. His fingers curled around hers instantly, gripping her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored.
Henry exhaled sharply, like he wanted to believe her, but she saw the war behind his eyes. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, a subtle, desperate motion—like he needed to remind himself she was still here, still his.
Then—
A voice called down the hall, sharp and commanding.
Elias.
He strode toward them, his expression grim, phone in one hand, his other gripping the gun at his hip. His movements were measured, controlled, but Henry knew Elias. Knew that underneath that controlled exterior was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Henry let go of Emilia's hand and squared his shoulders. "What is it?"
Elias exhaled through his nose, as if trying to contain his anger. He stopped just in front of them, his voice low but edged with something dangerous.
Elias locked eyes with him. "They don't match Zoey."
Henry's stomach twisted. Then who the hell is after her? The thought slammed into him, sharp and cold, before Elias even confirmed the danger.
Elias continued, his voice like steel. "It's someone else. And whoever they are..." He glanced at Emilia briefly before returning his focus to Henry. "They wanted her dead."
Something inside Henry snapped.
The blood in his veins turned ice-cold. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his body wound so tight it was a miracle he hadn't already exploded.
The room was silent. A heavy, dreadful silence.
The weight of the words settled over them, pressing into Henry's chest like a vice.
Then—
A knock at the front door.
Not loud. Not rushed. Just a single, deliberate sound.
Henry's body tensed before his mind even caught up. His arm instinctively moved in front of Emilia, shielding her. Every muscle locked into place, his heart hammering as if it already knew—
This wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
His gut churned, a cold certainty settling in his bones. Whoever was behind this wasn't just testing the waters anymore.
They were making their next move.