Chapter 5 Is He Going To Scold Me?
Emily adjusted herself in the backseat of the car, sinking slightly into the supple leather as the cool evening air drifted through the half-open window.
She closed her eyes, feeling the gentle brush of wind across her face.
The city lights flickered past in streaks of gold and neon, mirrored in the glass beside her.
The sudden vibration and sharp ringing of her phone yanked her from her momentary peace. She sat upright, fingers fumbling in her bag for the device.
Jeremy’s name flashed across the screen.
She swiped and lifted it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Did you see the press conference?” Jeremy’s voice was tight with urgency, words tumbling out almost before she could respond.
Emily shifted, pressing her back against the seat and fixing her gaze on the passing cityscape. “Yeah, I saw it. I don’t see why Lucas would do that. We’re over. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.”
Jeremy exhaled sharply, the sound catching in her ear.
“Maybe he feels guilty. Or maybe he’s afraid now that the truth is out with proof—it’ll implicate him.
So he’s trying to save face? But it still doesn’t explain why he’d confess he’s your ex-boyfriend when you never even mentioned his name in your post. He ran from it for five years…
why now, when everything is already going downhill for him? ”
Frustration coiled tight in Emily’s chest, sharpening her voice. “I’m not sure what he’s trying to do. But I’m not interested in anything related to him anymore.”
A faint laugh, tinged with relief, came through the line. “Good. Anyway, you should know—online, the same people who trashed you before are now accusing Lucas of lying. For years, they called you a liar… the second he admitted it, tables turned.”
Emily’s lips lifted in a small, wry curve. “How fast things change. Tomorrow, they’ll probably find something else to blame me for. It’s always easier to curse women for everything.”
Jeremy chuckled softly. “So… what are you up to? Come hang out with me.”
“Can’t,” Emily said, shaking her head, though he couldn’t see her. “I’m heading to my apartment to grab some things I left behind. Jacob wants me to take on a project to expand the business. I need some old design folders for that. I’ll be in and out.”
“Alright. Call me when you’ve got time, and we’ll meet up.” His voice lingered for a moment before the line went dead.
The car eased into her apartment building’s lot. Emily stepped out, the soft click of her heels against the pavement echoing faintly in the quiet evening. She adjusted her bag, shoulders tensing as her gaze swept the surroundings.
Her eyes froze.
Just a few feet away, standing rigid and taut beneath the pale glow of a streetlamp, was Lucas. His eyes were locked on her as if he had been waiting for this very moment.
Emily’s stomach dropped. A cold flush ran through her veins. “Jesus Christ… is he here to pick a fight over me exposing him?” she muttered under her breath.
Her instincts screamed survival. She pivoted sharply, heels skidding slightly on the concrete, planning to slip back into the safety of the car.
But Lucas was faster. His long strides ate the distance between them, urgency propelling him forward. Within seconds, he was in front of her, chest nearly brushing hers, his hand shooting out to grip her arm firmly but not painfully.
“Emily,” he said, voice rough, low, and urgent, vibrating with restrained emotion. “We need to talk.”
She yanked herself free, shoulders stiff, lips pressed into a thin line, her expression twisting with anger. “We have nothing to talk about.”
Without hesitation, she turned sharply, skipping the apartment entirely, and made her way back toward the car.
Lucas’s hand shot out again, gripping her arm with a force that pinned her in place. She jerked violently, twisting her wrist out of his hold. “I’m telling you for the last time—stop it already! We broke up. It’s over. I’m married now! My husband will get jealous if he sees you near me.”
The word—husband—hit him like a physical blow. Lucas froze for a fraction of a second, his chest tightening, a sharp pulse hammering in his temples.
He stepped directly in front of her, cutting off her path. His shoulders were rigid, fists clenched at his sides, muscles taut and coiled like springs. His eyes burned into hers, bloodshot and wild, storm clouds of disbelief and fury swirling behind them.
“You’re saying this on purpose to irritate me,” he growled, voice low, guttural, shaking with suppressed anger. “What fucking husband? You were in love with me for five years. The only man you’ve ever had feelings for is me!”
Emily stared at him, stunned by the sheer madness in his words. “So what if I was in love with you for five years? Does that mean I’m bound to be with you for a lifetime?”
“Yes!” Lucas leaned forward, his eyes flashing dangerously, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Emily closed her eyes briefly, inhaling shakily through her nose. Her fists balled at her sides, knuckles whitening as she shoved his arm off her with a forceful jerk. “My husband has a bad temper. If he finds out you’re harassing me, stalking me, he’ll lose it. You don’t want that.”
Lucas’s face contorted, jaw tightening, lips curling into a low, guttural snarl. “Husband? That fucking Sebastian Graves is your husband? Are you kidding me? Do you think I’m going to believe that? A hasty damn marriage—what else is it but a goddamn attempt to piss me off?!”
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came. Her heart thudded against her ribs, each beat echoing in her ears. Spinning on her heel, she stormed toward the car.
Lucas lunged after her, a surge of motion that seemed to carry every ounce of his frustration. She twisted at the last moment, yanking the car door open and slipping inside with urgency. She slammed it shut with a loud thud.
“Drive,” she ordered the driver immediately, her voice tight, breathless.
“Emily!” Lucas roared, his fist pounding against the window with a force that made the glass vibrate. His face was flushed with rage, his veins standing out on his neck.
The driver obeyed immediately, pressing the accelerator as the car jerked forward, tires screeching softly against the asphalt.
Lucas stood rooted in the spot, chest heaving, fists balled so tight his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his entire body shook with seething rage as the red taillights disappeared into the night.
***
Sebastian’s house was livelier than usual.
The warm, savory scent of food lingered in the air, wrapping the living room in a cozy, indulgent haze.
The low table was a chaotic spread of every kind of junk food imaginable—steaming bowls of noodles, golden fries, crispy fried chicken, greasy burgers, and even vibrant bowls of spicy stir-fried vegetables, their aroma tantalizing.
On the floor, Harold and Emily sat cross-legged in their night suits, their hands busy with spoons and forks as they attacked the food with the reckless enthusiasm of children sneaking a forbidden feast. Crumbs clung to their pajamas, and tiny droplets of sauce dotted the carpet, unnoticed in their hunger-driven focus.
Harold’s cheeks puffed out like chipmunks as he chewed, voice muffled through a mouthful of noodles. “Are you serious? Lucas actually said he still doesn’t believe that your marriage is real?”
Emily blew gently on her steaming soup, winding noodles carefully around her fork.
Her brows knitted tightly, frustration flickering in her dark eyes.
“Can you believe it? He thinks I’m just pretending—like this marriage with Sebastian is nothing more than a trick to make him jealous.
He doesn’t believe there’s anything real between us. ”
Harold shook his head, pushing a few fries onto his fork. “Thanks to my brother, you got saved from that delusional man. Otherwise, who knows how far his madness would’ve gone? Even after everything, he still thinks you’d go back to him?”
Emily let out a long sigh of relief, finally savoring a bite of her food. She nodded quickly, her lips curving slightly. “Right? Thank God! I can’t even imagine having a peaceful meal like this if I’d stayed with him. Five years… and it was nothing but suffocating.”
Harold grabbed a bowl of spicy stir-fried veggies and dumped a portion onto Emily’s plate with exaggerated seriousness.
“Exactly, Miss Emily. And just so you know, I risked my life bringing all these dishes into my brother’s house.
He’s been on a business trip since the last two days, but if he finds out we stuffed ourselves with junk food in his living room, he’ll kill us both! He hates unhealthy food.”
Emily bumped her shoulder playfully against his. “Relax. We’ll throw out the evidence before he’s back. By tomorrow, it’ll probably be on the other side of the city.” She giggled, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes.
With a wicked grin, she slid the plate of mini-burgers toward Harold. He met her look, just as conspiratorial, and snatched one up with a grin of his own.
“After we finish eating, how about a movie?” Emily suggested lightly. “Then you can head home.”
“Cool!” Harold said quickly, nodding with enthusiasm before returning to his food.
But the warm, relaxed atmosphere shattered in an instant. A chilling prickle ran down their spines, a sensation that set their nerves on edge.
Emily’s hand froze mid-air, noodles dangling from her fork.
Harold’s chewing halted abruptly. Slowly, their eyes lifted—first to a pair of polished black boots, gleaming in the lamplight; then to long legs in perfectly tailored slacks; and finally, the towering figure of a man whose presence seemed to suck the warmth from the room.
Sebastian.
He stood motionless, silent, and imposing, the sharp lines of his tailored suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and commanding frame. His gaze sliced them with quiet authority.
Both Harold and Emily froze, their utensils suspended in mid-air, noodles dangling limply from Harold’s fork. Their mouths hung open, caught red-handed.
Emily swallowed hard, her fork clattering faintly against the bowl as she stammered, voice tight. “H-how come you’re here so early?”
Sebastian’s dark eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He tilted his head slightly, voice low, smooth, and cold as ice. “This is my home too, Mrs. Graves. Do you mind if I come home early?”
Emily and Harold exchanged a panicked glance. The shock finally wearing off, they both snapped to their feet in unison, standing stiffly like schoolchildren caught red-handed, backs straight, shoulders tense.
Sebastian’s gaze drifted slowly to the table, piled high with greasy food. His face tightened, displeasure cutting across his sharp features. “Whose idea was it to eat all of this?”
Harold immediately stepped in front of Emily, puffing his chest and squaring his shoulders as if shielding her from a wild animal. “I-it has nothing to do with Miss Emily. I bought all of it!” His voice wavered slightly under Sebastian’s penetrating gaze.
He turned to Emily, eyebrows drawn together, muttering under his breath, “But… didn’t Leon say on the phone that my bro wouldn’t be back until tomorrow?”
Emily nodded innocently, lips pursed, confirming that she had heard the same thing when Leon had answered his call. Her hands fidgeted slightly, the thin fabric of her night suit brushing against her palms.
Sebastian’s eyes flicked sharply from Harold to Emily, then back again. He leaned in just slightly, the intensity of his stare making Harold swallow audibly. “Are you upset that I came home early… to my own house?”
Harold’s head bobbed immediately, an automatic nod. Emily smacked his arm, snapping him back to his senses. He shook his head frantically, forcing a strained, nervous grin. “O-of course not!”
Sebastian didn’t blink. His stare drilled into Harold like a warning laser. “Clean this up. Then head back to the company. I need you on the Smith project. Prepare all documentation for the presentation two days from now.”
Harold’s jaw practically hit the floor. “Seriously? The Smith project? They require, like, twenty levels of checks before you can even start the documentation! How am I supposed to finish that in two days, bro?”
Sebastian’s gaze hardened even further. “Finish the Jaguar project after that.”
Harold’s eyes widened in horror. “You’ve got to be kidding—” He cut himself off as Sebastian’s stare pinned him in place.
Groaning, he scrambled to gather the plates, muttering under his breath, “Fine, fine! I’m going, alright?
! Unbelievable…!” His hands trembled slightly as he stuffed trash into bags.
Emily bent down to help him without a word, silently collecting the mess.
But then Sebastian’s deep, low voice cut through the quiet, startling her. “Mrs. Graves. Come with me to our bedroom.”
Emily froze, hands still hovering over a half-empty bowl.
Harold’s head jerked up, wide eyes fixed on her, silently screaming ‘you’re in trouble’ .
Emily pressed her lips tight, trying not to gag on the food still in her mouth. She shot Harold a sad, almost scared glance before forcing her legs to move, following Sebastian up the stairs.
He strode ahead of her with long, confident steps, each footfall echoing slightly against the wooden steps. Emily hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking another step. She glanced back once—Harold was already dumping the last of the food and bolting out the door.
Once inside the bedroom, Sebastian stopped and turned to face her. His tall frame loomed in silence, his presence heavy.
Emily’s heart hammered in her chest. Her palms felt clammy, her fingers curling into small fists at her sides. Her gaze flicked nervously to him, then back to the floor, then to his dark, unreadable eyes.
‘Is he going to scold me?’ she wondered anxiously. ‘He didn’t say anything in front of Harold, but he definitely doesn’t look pleased.’