Dangerous Affections

Chapter4:ShatteredIllusion

The peaceful trip back to the penthouse choked me. Michael grasped the driving wheel while Emma gazed out the window with one hand shielding her tummy. His knuckles went white. Unspoken accusations and anxiety permeated the automobile as their conflict was clearly felt. Emma's heart hammered as they entered the lift. This was the pivotal time. She would have to face consequences for her dishonesty and justify everything. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Michael went into their living room and fiercely tore off his tie. Emma trailed grudgingly, her legs like lead. Michael pointed to the couch and instructed him. "Sit," he answered. His voice was chilly; it lacked any hint of the brightness she had grown accustomed to throughout the past few weeks. Emma clenched her fists tightly in her lap and roosted on the edge of the couch. Michael strode before her, disappointedly running a hand through his hair. 'How long?' His back to her, he asked at last. Emma forced herself to swallow forcefully. She said gently, "about three months." Michael turned to see her with wide open eyes. " Thirty-one days?" How long have you been hiding this? Emma leaped at his irritation in his voice. She slurred, "I was scared." "I wasn't sure how." "Scared?" Michael turned his back on it. "Emma, we're hitched. You should share this kind of thing with your better half, even though it's only a commercial transaction." Emma finds the words stinging to enable her to recall the true nature of their marriage. She squinted her eyes back fiercely even though tears were pricking at them. Her voice faltered, "I'm sorry." "I know I ought to have told you earlier. Simply said, I had no idea how you would respond. Michael laughed fiercely. I would respond differently. Were you expecting me to let you leave? That I would not assign responsibility?" Emma gave a quick shake of her head. No, it was not so much that. This was not scheduled, really. I worried it would ruin everything. "Control everything?!" Michael began to speak. "What's more, you assumed that hiding from me for some length of time was a better arrangement? Should this go public? What might it do in my campaign? Are you thinking of anything? The events will not make sense in their path. People would believe we misled them when we got married." Emma felt her pulse sink. He had natural worries about his valuable campaign. Not her, not their child, but rather what would it mean to his public persona. "Is it all you care about?" She asked, a little fire of wrath blazing in her chest. "Choose which campaign?" Michael started to see tiny eyes. "Remember, the whole aim of this agreement was that. Alternatively, have you forgotten why you are here? Emma felt the words like a real blow. She stood, her own indignation rising to equal his. "What am I supposed to overlook? You clearly just have an agreement to provide. In any case, when we..." she trailed off, inadequate to finish the thought. Michael's face once more hardened following a short interval of softening. "That had no effect at all. Emma, we decided upon this. Not any problems. Pointing to her stomach, he continued, "This is definitely a complication." Emma folded her arms about herself and felt a little suddenly. "So, what are you going to do?" Michael sighed, a nose-bridge pinch. We have to come up with a fix. Get the schedules to line up. Perhaps mention the baby arrived early. I will have my PR help on it. Emma stared at him with dismay. "That is all that there exists to it? That covers all you need to say about your child?" Emma, what would you want me to say? Michael let out a blast. "That makes me happy. That this is exactly what I wanted? Our interests are really different. Never meant for this to happen, was it? The words laden with implication hung palpably between them. Emma felt something in her break. She remarked gently, "You're correct." "This was not at all expected. Every one of them. She wanted room to breathe and think, so she headed toward the bedroom. But Michael's next comments stopped her dead cold. "Something different you're not telling me, isn't there?" He talked low and dangerously. "My group worked on some quite substantial excavation. Emma Parker seems not precisely what she claims to be." Emma's blood turned chilly. She turned slowly in response to Michael's angry glance. "What are you referring to?" She questioned, straggling to keep her voice. Michael snicked in an unpleasant way. Come on Emma, please. Rather, should I say Emma Parker-Rothschild? Daughter of disgraced billionaire Richard Parker. Of these, do any ring true? Emma felt the floor drop from under her. How had he come upon it? She had made a great effort to hide that part of her background. She began "How..." but Michael interrupted her. "How makes no difference at all. The fact that you lied counts. Once more. Was your account accurate in any sense? Alternatively, was it all a drawback to get your hands on my money?" Emma withdrew as though she had been knocked back. "Do you view me in that light? That I would use my child under some plan?" Michael answered, his voice worn out. "I have no idea what to believe anymore." "I wouldn't know who you are." Between them, the words hung like a gulf too great to even contemplate. Emma sensed a resolution develop and something within her stifled. "You're right," she remarked quietly. "You know nothing about me. I obviously know nothing about you as well. Michael followed her as she headed into the bedroom. She shook her hands then began to pack a bag. "What are you actively involved in?" Alert, crawling into his voice, Michael inquired. Emma just said "Going." "That was a slip-up. Every last fragment of it. Michael moved ahead, aiming at her arm. Emma, wait here. We can arrange this out here. We may—" Emma jumped away at his touch. No, we are unable to do it. Your attitude toward this child and me is really quite obvious. I will not stay where I do not fit. She rushed her sack, slipped off her wedding band and placed it on the dresser. They both knew the gesture was finality. " Will you travel somewhere?" Michael asked, his resentment seeming to have passed. Emma looked at him one final time and gave her bag a shoulder. "Is it really important? You found what you needed: a camera buddy. The agreement is in satisfactory form. Consider this as my leaving note. She passed him then turned to face the door. Michael's voice, then, stopped her once more. And the baby asked subtly as well. Emma felt great protectiveness as her palm lay on her stomach. "I'll raise it on my own. You should not worry about your important mission being compromised." With those last words, Emma departed the penthouse and the life she had created with Michael over the past month. When the elevator doors closed behind her, she at last let the tears flow. Emma halted at the entrance to admit she had nowhere to go. When her previous flat was long gone, she found it intolerable to consider returning to her father. She was by herself now. Emma felt both fear and excitement as she walked out onto the busy New York road, a cold breeze caressing her tear-stained face. She was completely alone without reference to her life. Neither a family name to rely on nor a millionaire husband to hide behind. Only her and the small life growing within her. Emma offered the only address she could think of when she ordered a cab. As the city lights burst by the window, she let herself through a moment of weakness and a little sob for all she had lost. Emma Parker, who is not now a Waverly, stared ahead at that point, trying to figure out her shoulders. She is not a Rothschild. She currently has a child to consider. She never let anyone—not even Michael Waverly—ever again make her feel unworthy either. Emma inhaled fully as the cab drew up to its target. At least temporarily, she hoped the little building in front of her would offer cover. Emma got out of the taxi, packed close by, and headed toward the door. She stopped to weigh her choices before ringing the buzzer. Radio picked up a crackling voice. "Who Is it?" Emma focused on shutting her eyes. "It's me," she said gently. "I ask for help." Emma considered she would be sacked for a heart-stopping second during a protracted stoppage. Then, with that buzz, the door opened. Emma felt as soon as she walked in that she was beginning a new chapter in her life. She had no idea what that brand-new chapter would entail. She knew one thing, though: her hand rested defensively on her belly: she would meet whatever came next with the same force and will as a mother shielding her child. The busy New York street and the life she had left behind vanished from view when the door closed behind her with a last click.