Emily's POV.
I wasn’t expecting company.
Not today. Not ever, really.
But when the doorbell rang, the house was too quiet except for the distant murmur of the bodyguards outside. I knew…whoever it was, they weren’t just dropping by for fun.
I pulled the door open, and there she was.
My mother.
She stood at my doorstep in a beige coat, a silk scarf loosely wrapped around her neck, her short hair styled perfectly, as if she had stepped out of some magazine cover. She always had a way of looking put together, even when things were falling apart.
Her eyes swept over me, taking in the sight of me in my oversized sweater, barefoot, my hair loosely tied up. Then she met my gaze, hesitation spreading across her face.
"Emily," she said, her voice softer than I remembered.
I didn’t answer.
