Chapter 2
Emery’s POV
They didn’t choke me with their hands, but their blunt, insulting stares kept my airway narrow the entire night. I excused myself as quickly as I could, walking faster than what was probably appropriate for a hostess.
But I couldn’t stand being their quiet punchline any longer, paraded around like some charity case while my husband stood idle, letting his family cut into me with every smirk and comment.
The second I stepped into the garden, I inhaled like it was the first breath I’d taken all night. The air outside was cold and sharp, but it was better than the suffocating perfume and forced smiles in that ballroom.
No one noticed I slipped out. Not Landon, not his mother Portia, and definitely not Lily.
I stopped near the fountain and looked down at my ring. Gold. Beautiful. Completely meaningless. I twisted it around my finger, hoping that if I kept turning it, it might vanish.
I remembered our wedding night, not because it was perfect, but because it was the last time I thought I could trust him.
The room had smelled like roses and clean linen. City lights spilled across the hotel suite as Landon quietly shut the door behind us. He’d reached for my hand and said my name so softly I barely recognized his voice.
“Emery,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
I’d smiled, nervous but full of trust. “I know,” I whispered. And I did, I believed every word like a fool.
He cupped my cheek and told me I didn’t have to be afraid that night. I told him I wasn’t, not with him. He kissed my forehead first, slow and deliberate, then reached for the zipper of my dress.
“Tell me if I go too fast,” he said.
“You won’t.”
He undressed me like I was fragile, like we had all the time in the world. When he laid me down, there was nothing rushed or rough. Just a strange kind of gentleness I hadn’t expected from a man raised by the Remingtons.
He whispered into my skin that he’d protect me. Always.
I whispered back, “Okay.” And I gave him everything.
I should’ve known better. He never laid a hand on me after that, never raised his voice, but his silence hurt more than anything. No warmth, no love, no child, just this hollow ring around my finger.
A symbol of nothing. A quiet failure dressed in gold.
I sat on the edge of the fountain, the marble cold against the backs of my legs. I kept turning the ring, watching it catch in the moonlight. It had left a faint dent on my skin. Like even my body was unwilling to forget the lie.
Most mornings, I woke up wondering when I’d be replaced, when Portia would finally find someone more useful, more fertile. Someone who could give Landon an heir, a future, a reason to look up from his damn phone.
And the strange thing was, I didn’t even feel angry anymore. Not jealous, either. Just… done.
I was done begging, and hoping. This wasn’t a life. It was a slow disappearance, and I was tired of fading quietly.
Footsteps broke the silence behind me, crunching on the stone path.
“There you are,” Lily said. Her voice was flat, like this was a chore she was already bored of. She looked too glittery to be out here, like she belonged only under chandeliers.
“Mother wants a family photo,” she added. “You coming?”
I didn’t turn around. “Tell her I’m not feeling well.”
“You don’t look sick.”
“I’m sick of being here.”
She let out a small sigh and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Then she turned on her heel and disappeared back inside, her footsteps clicking the whole way.
I stayed where I was, shoulders stiff against the cold. My fingers still held the ring, turning it again and again like I was winding a watch that stopped ticking a long time ago.
I hadn’t taken it off. Not yet.
Maybe because some part of me still hoped he’d notice. Still hoped he’d look up and remember what he promised. But in this family, promises were currency.
And they never held their value for long, especially not with Landon Remington.
