(Emery’s POV)
Home felt different now.
Not the lake house. Not the cabin in the hills.
A real home — their own house, tucked into a quiet street lined with jacarandas, far from Halston and even farther from the press.
Luca had bought it in secret. Renovated it slowly. Room by room. Brick by brick.
He handed her the keys when she came home from the hospital.
“No cameras,” he’d said. “No staff. Just us. You, me, and Aurora.”
And it was.
Quiet. Warm. Real.
Every morning, Emery woke up to the soft weight of her daughter sleeping on her chest and the rough warmth of Luca’s arm around her waist.
It should’ve been enough.
It was.
Until the letter came.
⸻
She almost didn’t open it.
But the envelope was thick. Heavy. The kind of paper that didn’t come from a fan or a friend.
It came
