Chapter Seventeen
Emily
Emily woke up with a pounding headache, the unfamiliar hotel ceiling swimming into focus.
She turned her head, her gaze landing on the bare back of the man sleeping beside her.
He was a familiar distraction, a desperate attempt to feel something other than the crushing humiliation of her sister's party.
She traced the edge of the sheets, thinking about how she always made the exact same mistakes, spiraling into the very behavior she despised.
Pushing the covers aside, she got out of bed without rushing. A brief shower washed away the scent of sex, and she slipped right back into the daring red dress she had worn the night before. She left the room without a backward glance.
***
Arriving at the hospital parking garage, Emily pulled down the sun visor and meticulously touched up her lipstick.
She could have stopped by a boutique first. She could have bought a modest linen suit to dress the part of the respectable Sinclair matriarch.
But if she was going to face this particular humiliation today, she was going to do it in style.
She got the room number from the front desk. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished linoleum as she walked down the sterile, brightly lit corridor, ignoring the lingering stares of the nursing staff before pushing the door open.
Sloane was propped up against the hospital pillows, a tiny bundle pressed to her chest as she breastfed.
Ryan sat on the bed beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around Sloane's shoulders.
He was leaning forward, looking at the two of them with pure, unvarnished adoration—the exact same look he had given Emily when she first nursed their boys.
"I hope I'm not interrupting a beautiful family moment," Emily said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
Ryan stood up right away, his protective instincts flaring. He stepped between Emily and the bed. "I hope you aren't here to cause trouble, Emily. Sloane had a very difficult delivery."
A sharp pang twisted in Emily's chest at the way he guarded the other woman. She forced a bright, brittle smile. "Don't worry about me, darling. I'm just visiting. Now, be a good husband and go get some coffee for your wife. I had a grueling night and need caffeine."
Ryan frowned, his eyes scanning her attire as if just registering the vibrant red silk. "Where are you coming from dressed like that?"
"I was celebrating my sister's upcoming wedding," Emily lied effortlessly.
Before he could question her further, she pointed toward the door. "The coffee, Ryan."
Ryan closed the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands, his expression hardening into pure, unyielding possessiveness. "Be careful, Em," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "You are mine, and nothing will ever change that. I love you."
He leaned down and kissed her mouth firmly, marking his territory, before turning and leaving the room.
When Emily turned back toward the bed, she saw the profound sadness etched into Sloane's tired features. The younger woman had watched the entire display.
Emily walked closer, looking down at the infant. The little girl had a tuft of dark hair but undeniably shared her mother's delicate features. A hollow ache bloomed in Emily's chest.
"Did you come to try and get rid of us?" Sloane asked, her voice trembling. "To make me give up? Because even knowing how wrong this is... I can't leave him, Emily."
"Do you really love him?" Emily asked, her tone conversational but sharp. "Even though he keeps you as a dirty secret? You live in the back of my house as a favor, Sloane. Meanwhile, I am his wife. I am the woman who carries his name."
Emily lifted her left hand, letting the enormous diamond ring catch the hospital lights.
The expression of pure agony on Sloane's face was almost pitiful. Tears spilled over her eyelashes. She wiped them away with her free hand, holding her daughter closer. "I love him," she wept. "I love him enough to be happy with whatever scraps of his time and affection he is willing to give me."
Emily stared at her. "So be it."
She stepped closer to the bed, her shadow falling over the younger woman. "If you want to occupy the backup space in my husband's life, you will do exactly as I say. That child you are holding will be the last child you ever have."
Sloane gasped, shrinking back against the pillows.
"You are already in the hospital," Emily continued, her voice devoid of mercy.
"Talk to your doctor today. Have your tubes tied, get an implant, I don't care what procedure you choose.
But you will ensure that you never get pregnant by Ryan again.
From now on, I am the only woman who bears his children. "
"You can't force me to do that," Sloane whispered.
"If you ever get pregnant again," Emily promised, leaning down so they were eye to eye, "I will cause a scandal that will be talked about for months across the globe.
I will drag Ryan's reputation and yours through the tabloids, and I will play the perfect, devastated victim.
He will lose everything. And at the end of the day, he will hate you, because you will be the one causing him to lose it all. "
"You wouldn't be capable of doing that to him," Sloane challenged weakly.
"Test me," Emily smiled. "See what happens."
Fear finally took root in Sloane's eyes.
Emily straightened her posture. She knew she wouldn't actually blow up the Sinclair empire—she had to protect her boys.
Getting rid of Sloane completely wouldn't solve the problem either; Ryan would either hunt Sloane down, or he would simply replace her with someone new.
It was vastly better to control everything with the devil she already knew.
Emily turned on her heel to leave.
"He loves me too," Sloane called out behind her.
Emily stopped.
"He doesn't say the words," Sloane continued, her voice gaining a desperate strength. "But I know he loves me. I feel it in the way he touches me. By everything he does for me. The way he acts when we are alone, the things we do together that aren't just sex. That is love."
Emily swallowed hard, the bitter truth burning her throat. "I know," she said.
The memory crashed over her. A night mere days after Ryan had looked Emily in the eye and sworn he didn't love Sloane.
Emily had been lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling since Ryan slipped out of their bed twenty minutes prior. Driven by a morbid need to see the truth with her own eyes, she threw on a robe, went down the stairs carefully, out the door, and crossed the dark lawn to the guest house.
She punched the code into the keypad and slipped inside without making a sound. The air conditioning hummed, masking her footsteps as she moved down the hallway.
Then, she heard it. Feminine moans drifting like a melody, accompanied by the deep, guttural grunts she knew so intimately.
Emily crept closer, peering around the edge of the living room archway.
Sloane was lying back on the plush sofa, propped up on her elbows. Emily watched, mesmerized and horrified, seeing Ryan kneeling between Sloane's legs, giving her unimaginable pleasure.
"I can’t get enough of you,” Ryan murmured against her skin.
Emily pressed a hand to her own belly, which was more than eight months pregnant at the time. A sharp, physical pain radiated through her chest. Hearing those words gutted her because he did and said the exact same things for her.
"I love you," Sloane gasped, her head falling back.
Ryan didn't say it back, but he didn't pull away either.
He intensified his actions, consuming her completely, and Emily couldn't force herself to look away.
When Sloane finally shattered into an orgasm, Ryan stood up.
He reached down and gently scooped Sloane into his arms, kissing her mouth as he carried her toward the bedroom, murmuring that he wanted her to be comfortable enough to take all of him.
Unable to resist the self-inflicted torture, Emily followed them down the hall. She arrived at the bedroom doorway just in time to see Ryan finishing the task of removing Sloane's dress. Sloane's belly was much larger than the last time Emily had seen it.
Ryan dropped to his knees. He pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the swell of Sloane's stomach. He whispered something against her skin. Emily couldn't hear the entire sentence, but the final words carried across the room.
"...Daddy’s little girl.”
A girl. Sloane was giving him a daughter. The realization cut Emily to the bone.
Sloane giggled, tangling her fingers in Ryan's hair. He stood up, kissed her deeply, and carried her to the mattress. He entered her carefully, his movements restrained and deeply considerate.
"God, it feels so good to be inside you," Ryan groaned. "You're so fucking tight.”
Sloane moaned with a level of uninhibited bliss, and he groaned in response—a sound of thorough undoing that Emily didn't ever remember him making for her.
He increased the rhythm of his thrusts but remained incredibly gentle.
He took the peak of her breast into his mouth, suckling her while his free hand mapped the curves of her body, his fingers tightly intertwined with hers.
Emily’s feet felt rooted to the carpet. She was experiencing a soul-deep hemorrhage with every second that passed. When they finished, the room filled with the sound of their ragged breathing.
"I love you," Sloane whispered again into the dim light.
Ryan nuzzled his nose affectionately against hers.
He kissed her mouth with breathtaking tenderness.
Then he lay down, pulling Sloane tightly against his side.
He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes in complete contentment.
They stayed exactly like that, their bodies seamlessly intertwined, his hand covering hers where it rested over his heart.
Standing in the dark hallway, Emily finally understood.
Ryan might never actually say the words to Sloane.
But words were cheap. She had just witnessed the truth.
The gentle touches. The unguarded adoration in his voice, as if he could never get enough of her.
He didn't turn away after sex; he wanted her close, continuing to touch her, continuing to hold her. That was love.
A desperate sob fought to claw its way up Emily's throat. She turned and fled down the hallway, moving toward the front door as quickly as her enormous belly allowed, trying desperately not to make a sound.
But as she slipped out into the cool night air, she knew the truth: she could have shattered a vase, and they wouldn't have even noticed. They were entirely connected to each other, locked away in a beautiful, unbreakable world of their own.
The memory faded, pulling Emily back to the sterile reality of the hospital room. She stood near the door, her back still turned to Sloane, fighting the tears prickling her eyes.
"Do you have a middle name for her yet?" Emily asked, her voice tight but clear.
She heard Sloane shift against the mattress. "No. Not yet."
"Make it Elizabeth," Emily suggested. "It’s the middle name of the most incredible and lucky woman I know. Give it to your daughter. Maybe that way, she will escape the pattern we share—loving a man who doesn't love either of us enough."
Emily pushed the door open and left without looking back.
Out in the brightly lit corridor, she ran into Ryan. He was walking toward her, holding a steaming paper cup of coffee. Emily reached out and took it directly from his hand.
"Thank you," she whispered, starting to walk past him.
Ryan stopped her, gently catching her hand in his. "Where are you going?"
"Home," she replied. "To be with the children."
Ryan stared into her eyes, his brow furrowing. "Something’s different about you."
Emily just stared back, a sad smile touching her lips.
He leaned in to kiss her, but Emily turned her head, letting his lips merely brush against her cheek. She pulled her hand free and moved away, heading straight for the exit.
As her heels clicked against the polished floor, her mind cleared. She might have chosen to remain inside a gilded cage, but she could always change the rules.