Scars of Devotion

Chapter Thirteen – Samantha’s Choice

Emily Parker’s POV

Samantha always had a flair for timing.

She showed up at Margaret’s brownstone uninvited, unannounced, and unbothered. Her heels clicked like daggers against the hardwood floor as Margaret looked up from her glass of wine, annoyed but unsurprised.

“You didn’t call,” Margaret said dryly.

“You don’t answer anyway.” Samantha tossed her designer coat onto the arm of a chair, her smirk sharp enough to cut. “Besides, I thought I’d stop by. See what secrets my favorite aunt is hoarding these days.”

Margaret rolled her eyes, sipping her wine. “You’re always looking for scraps, Samantha. What makes you think I’d leave anything worth finding?”

But Samantha wasn’t listening. She was already prowling the room, trailing her fingers along the bookshelves and the cabinets. She’d always been a predator, and Margaret’s house was prey.

And then she found it.

A hidden drawer, tucked behind the shelves. Locked, but locks meant nothing to Samantha. With a hairpin and a smirk, she popped it open and pulled out a thin folder, its edges worn.

Inside were letters. Old, faded. And one photo.

My mother. Younger, smiling, her arm around a man I’d never seen before. A man with piercing eyes and a strong jaw. On the back, in my mother’s handwriting: Jameson. Forever.

Samantha’s smile widened.

“Well, well,” she purred. “So it’s true.”

Margaret snatched the folder from her hands, fury flashing. “You have no right—”

“Oh, I have every right,” Samantha snapped, her voice sharp. “You’ve been poisoning Emily’s life for years, but this? Hiding her real father? That’s not just cruel. That’s leverage.”

Margaret’s lips curled. “And what do you plan to do with it? Run to Emily? Pretend you care about her?”

Samantha laughed. “Care? Hardly. But Adrian…” She tapped the photo against her palm, eyes glittering. “Adrian would kill for this. Imagine the scandal. The headlines. Ryan Carter’s woman: an illegitimate heiress tied to Adrian Cole’s empire.”

Margaret’s face darkened, but there was no surprise. Only calculation. “You’d hand this to him? You’d destroy your own bloodline?”

“Bloodline?” Samantha sneered. “Please. Emily’s the golden child. She always gets the sympathy, the love, the man…. I get the scraps. If this levels the playing field, so be it.”

Margaret studied her for a long moment, then leaned back, sipping her wine again. “You think Adrian will make you his queen, don’t you? That betraying Emily will finally give you the power you crave.”

Samantha’s chin lifted. “Why shouldn’t it? Emily’s weak. She clings to love like it’s armor. But me? I know the truth. Power wins.”

I didn’t know any of this yet.

I only knew that Ryan had grown quieter since Adrian’s return, his shoulders heavier, his laughter rare. And I—I was drowning in secrets. The letter. The whispered name. The photograph, burning a hole in my pocket.

That night, as I watched him sleep, I thought of Samantha. Somewhere in the city, she was scheming. I could feel it like a storm rolling closer.

The storm broke three days later.

I was at a café, trying to distract myself with coffee and the hum of strangers, when Samantha slid into the chair across from me.

She looked radiant, smug, like someone who’d just won a private war.

“Emily,” she cooed. “You look tired. Trouble in paradise?”

I stiffened. “What do you want?”

Her smile was pure venom. “Just to warn you. Adrian knows about Jameson.”

My blood froze.

“How—”

She leaned closer, her perfume choking me. “Let’s just say Margaret’s not the only one who can keep secrets. And now Adrian has yours. Tick, tick, cousin. How long before Ryan starts wondering who you really are?”

I swallowed hard. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Samantha tilted her head, watching me squirm. “You should see his face when he talks about it. Hungry. Like he’s already planning how to use it. And you know Adrian—he doesn’t play fair.”

My hands shook around my coffee cup. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.” Her smile widened. “And because for once, Emily Parker isn’t the saint. For once, you’ll be the scandal. And I’ll be the one holding the match.”

She stood, smoothing her coat. “Enjoy your coffee, cousin. Might be the last peaceful one you ever have.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving me with the bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue.

Back at the apartment, Ryan noticed immediately.

“What happened?” he asked, setting down the papers he’d been reviewing.

I forced a smile, shaking my head. “Nothing. Just Samantha being Samantha.”

But inside, I was unraveling. Because Samantha had the photo. Adrian had the whispers. And soon, Ryan would have questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

That night, as I lay awake beside him, I thought about Margaret’s words. The truth, Emily, is poison.

Maybe she was right.

But the poison was already spreading.

And Samantha was the one holding the vial.