MY HUSBAND LOVE ME TOO LATE

Chapter 16: Where Did She Go?

Emma's hands went cold.

"Margaret?" she called again, stepping further into the room. "It's Emma."

Still nothing.

Then, from the direction of the bed, a soft groan.

Emma spun around. In the dim lamp light, she'd missed it before, the shape beneath the blankets, small and still, tucked so neatly into the covers she'd mistaken it for pillows.

"Margaret!" Emma rushed to the bedside.

The old woman stirred, blinking slowly, disoriented. "Emma? What's all this noise?"

"You're here." Emma's knees nearly buckled with relief. "You're really here."

"Where else would I be?" Margaret pushed herself up against the headboard, frowning. "I came back to lie down. My chest felt tight. I must have dozed off."

Lucas appeared in the doorway, Henry right behind him, both breathing hard from the stairs.

"Grandmother?" Lucas's voice cracked with worry.

"Goodness, what is everyone gawking at?" Margaret said, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "You'd think I'd seen a ghost, the way you're all looking at me."

Emma let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She reached for Margaret's hand, gripping it like she needed proof it was real. "Your cane was still by the closet. Your bed looked untouched. I thought something happened to you."

"I didn't need the cane to cross the room," Margaret said. "And the bed looks that way because I barely moved once I laid down. I was tired, Emma. That's all." She studied Emma's face more closely, her frown deepening. "But you're shaking. What's happened?"

Emma glanced at Lucas, unsure how much to say. But there was no gentle way to say it.

"It's Sophia," Emma said quietly. "She collapsed at dinner. Poisoned, we think. The ambulance just took her."

Margaret's hand flew to her mouth. "Poisoned? In this house? At my table?"

"We don't know how yet," Lucas said, his voice still hoarse from shouting downstairs. "Henry thinks it was meant for someone else."

"For Emma," Henry said plainly, when Lucas hesitated to say it himself. "The wine was poured for her. Sophia drank it instead."

Margaret's face went ashen. Her eyes searched Emma's, something unreadable moving behind them, guilt, maybe, or fear that had been sitting there far longer than tonight.

"I need to tell you something," Margaret said. "I should have said it earlier, before all this happened."

"You tried," Emma said gently, kneeling by the bed so she was level with her. "In the hallway. Then Claire screamed and everything fell apart."

"I know." Margaret's grip tightened around Emma's fingers, her knuckles pale. "And now I'm afraid it can't wait any longer. Not after tonight."

Lucas stepped closer, the candlestick finally lowered at his side. "Grandmother, please. Tell us."

Margaret hesitated, glancing toward the door as though checking it was truly shut. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper.

"Sophia came to this house with a reason," she said. "Not the reason she gave you both. Not old feelings for Lucas. She told me herself, weeks ago, when she thought no one else was listening. I was in the garden. She didn't know I was there."

Emma's pulse quickened. "Told you what, exactly?"

"That someone was paying her to be here," Margaret said. "Someone who wanted eyes inside this house. Someone who wanted to know everything about you, Emma. Your habits. Your past. Your work."

The room went completely still.

"Who?" Lucas asked, though something in his voice suggested he already feared the answer.

Margaret's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't want to believe it. I told myself I misheard her. But she said his name clearly enough. She said your father sent her, Lucas."

Lucas's jaw tightened until the muscle in his cheek jumped. "Victor."

"She said he found her through an old friend of his. Paid her well. Promised her far more once the job was finished." Margaret's voice cracked, tears finally spilling over. "I should have told you the moment I heard it. I was afraid. Victor has always had a way of making people afraid, even his own mother."

Emma sank onto the edge of the bed, her legs suddenly unwilling to hold her. "Why didn't you say anything sooner? Weeks have gone by, Margaret."

"Because I hoped I was wrong," Margaret said. "Because some nights I convinced myself I'd imagined the whole conversation. And because Sophia begged me not to tell. She said if Victor found out she'd spoken, even to me, he'd make sure she disappeared. I thought I was protecting her by staying quiet. Now look what's happened."

"This isn't your fault," Emma said, though her voice wavered as she said it.

"Isn't it?" Margaret's eyes glistened. "If I'd spoken sooner, maybe you'd have known to watch her. Maybe tonight would have gone differently."

Emma's mind raced back through every strange moment since Sophia's arrival. The wine offered at just the right time, the very first night. The questions about Emma's schedule, disguised as friendly curiosity over coffee. The way Sophia had always seemed to know more than a stranger should.

"If Sophia was working for Victor," Emma said slowly, thinking out loud now, "then maybe the poison wasn't a mistake at all."

Henry's eyes narrowed, arms crossed. "You think Victor poisoned his own spy?"

"I think a spy who starts feeling guilty becomes a liability," Emma said. "Especially one who almost said something to me tonight before she collapsed."

Lucas went pale. "She spoke to you? Before the paramedics arrived?"

Emma nodded slowly, the memory still sharp and strange. "She said, 'It was for you.' I thought she meant the wine. But now I don't think that's all she meant. I think she was trying to warn me about something bigger."

"Warn you about what?" Lucas asked.

"About whatever Victor actually sent her here to find," Emma said.

Margaret pressed a trembling hand to her chest, breathing shallow. "There's more. She told me Victor wasn't only after information about your day-to-day life. He wanted proof of something. Something you're hiding, Emma. Something big enough that he'd go this far just to uncover it."

Emma's stomach dropped. Her mind flew straight to the one secret she had guarded since the day she married into this family. The identity she had buried under fake names, quiet meetings, and years of careful silence.

She said nothing.

"Did she say what kind of proof?" Emma finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Margaret shook her head, exhausted now, the effort of the confession draining what little color was left in her face. "No. Only that Victor believed you were hiding something valuable enough to change everything. For him. For this family. For all of us."

Lucas turned to Emma, confusion and worry tangled together across his face. "Emma. What is she talking about? What would you be hiding from me?"

Emma opened her mouth, but no answer came. Not one she was ready to give. Not tonight, with Margaret trembling in her bed and Sophia fighting for her life in some hospital room across town.

"Lucas, this isn't the time," Henry said quietly, stepping in before the silence could stretch too long. "We need to focus on what happened downstairs. Whoever poisoned that wine is still out there. Possibly still in this house."

Lucas didn't look away from Emma, but he nodded once, tightly, letting it go for now. "We'll finish this conversation," he said. "Later."

Emma swallowed hard. "I know."

"Someone should stay with Grandmother," Henry added, glancing between them. "If Victor knows she talked once, he might come looking to make sure she doesn't talk again."

Lucas's expression darkened. "I'll have someone posted outside her door tonight. I'm not taking chances, not after everything."

"Thank you," Margaret said quietly, though the fear in her voice hadn't fully faded. She reached for Emma's hand one last time, her grip weak but urgent. "Be careful, dear. Whatever you're carrying, Victor won't stop until he has it. He never stops. Not for anyone, not even his own family."

"I'll be careful," Emma said, though the words felt thin even as she said them.

Her phone buzzed sharply in her pocket, cutting through the tense silence like a knife. She pulled it out with shaking hands.

An unknown number. A single text glowing on the screen.

*Sophia is awake. She's asking for you. Only you. Hurry, before she stops talking.*

Emma's blood went cold.

"Who is it?" Lucas asked, watching her face change.

Emma looked up at him, her voice barely steady. "The hospital. Sophia's awake. She's asking for me."

Lucas frowned. "Why only you?"

"I don't know." Emma was already moving toward the door, her mind spinning faster than she could keep up with. "But if she's finally ready to talk, I need to hear it before Victor finds out she's awake too."

"I'm coming with you," Lucas said, following close behind.

"No." Emma stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him. "Stay with Margaret. Someone needs to make sure she isn't alone tonight. Henry can come with me."

Lucas hesitated, torn between duty and fear, but finally nodded. "Call me the second you know anything. I mean it, Emma."

"I will."

She was halfway down the hallway before his last words caught up to her, unanswered, trailing behind her like smoke. All she could think about was the hospital, the machines, and whatever truth Sophia had almost died trying to say out loud.