Chapter Three: Beneath the Surface
1072 Words
Emma barely made it through the rest of the gala. The weight of Jake’s presence lingered, wrapping around her like an invisible thread she couldn’t untangle. Every time she glanced his way, he was already watching. As if he knew something she didn’t, as if he saw through the perfectly crafted facade she had spent years maintaining.
Ryan was tense beside her, his fingers gripping her waist a little too tightly as he paraded her through the room like a prized possession. She played her part flawlessly, offering charming smiles, exchanging empty pleasantries, but all the while, her mind raced.
What was Jake doing here? Why did he care?
She had learned long ago that no one cared unless they had something to gain. And yet, when Jake had looked at her tonight, it wasn’t with greed. It wasn’t with control. It was something else entirely.
When the gala finally ended, Ryan led her to the waiting town car, his grip still firm, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. The moment they slid into the backseat, the tension became unbearable.
“You don’t listen, do you?” His voice was calm, eerily so.
Emma inhaled sharply. “Ryan—”
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were dark, simmering with something dangerous. “Do you think I didn’t see you with him?”
“He was just talking to me.”
Ryan scoffed. “Jake Sullivan doesn’t just talk.” His grip tightened for a moment before he released her with a bitter chuckle. “You think he’s some kind of hero? He’s not. He wants something from you, Emma. And I won’t let that happen.”
Emma’s fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. “And what exactly do you think he wants?”
Ryan leaned back, rolling his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you remember who you belong to.”
A chill ran down her spine. He didn’t need to raise his voice. The threat was already there, embedded in every word.
The car ride home was silent, but the air was thick with unspoken words. When they arrived at Ryan’s penthouse, Emma barely had time to remove her heels before he was behind her, his hands trailing down her arms, his breath warm against her ear.
“I need you to be a good girl, Emma.” His lips brushed against her skin, and she forced herself to stay still, to not recoil. “No more Sullivan. No more little games.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Okay.”
Ryan smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple before walking away. But Emma stood frozen, her nails digging into her palms.
Because she had just lied to him.
—
The next morning, Emma awoke to an empty bed. A note rested on the pillow beside her.
Business trip. Back in two days. Behave.
She exhaled slowly, rolling onto her back. Two days. It wasn’t much time, but it was enough.
Sliding out of bed, she padded toward the window, watching the city below. A part of her told her to let it go, to do as Ryan said, to pretend Jake Sullivan didn’t exist.
But another part—the part she had buried for so long—was screaming for her to find out the truth.
—
The coffee shop wasn’t crowded. A few patrons sat with their laptops, sipping overpriced lattes, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her.
When Jake arrived, she felt it before she saw him. That same pull. That same electric charge. He slid into the seat across from her, his expression unreadable.
“You don’t follow orders well.”
Emma stirred her coffee. “Neither do you.”
Jake smirked, leaning forward. “Then why are we here?”
She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “Who are you to me, Jake?”
His smirk faded. “What do you mean?”
She exhaled shakily. “You act like you know me. Like we have some kind of past. But I don’t remember you. And yet, you look at me like I should.”
For the first time, Jake looked almost…uncertain. As if he was debating what to say next.
“I knew you before him,” he finally said.
Emma frowned. “Before—”
“Before Ryan.” His voice was soft but firm. “Before all of this.”
Her stomach twisted. “That’s not possible.”
Jake studied her. “You don’t remember, do you?”
She shook her head, a dull ache forming at the base of her skull. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He reached into his pocket and slid something across the table.
A photo.
Emma hesitated before picking it up. Her breath hitched.
It was her. Younger, laughing, eyes bright and full of life in a way she no longer recognized. And beside her—
Jake.
Her hands trembled. “I don’t—I don’t remember this.”
Jake’s expression darkened. “Because Ryan made sure you wouldn’t.”
She swallowed hard, the edges of her world blurring. “Why?”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “Because you weren’t just his fiancée, Emma. You were something else before. And he needed to erase that.”
Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Jake murmured, “that everything you think you know is a lie.”
A sharp gasp escaped her lips. She shook her head. “No. No, that’s not—”
“Think, Emma.” Jake leaned in, his voice urgent. “Why do you always feel like something is missing? Why do you have nightmares you can’t explain? Why does he control you so tightly?”
Her head spun, flashes of something—of someone—buried deep inside her mind. A whisper of a memory, just out of reach.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I need—I need time.”
Jake nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
Emma stood abruptly, shoving the photo into her purse before rushing out the door. The cold air hit her like a slap, but it did nothing to steady her.
Because if Jake was telling the truth…
Then she wasn’t just trapped in Ryan’s world.
She had been stolen from her own.
- Writer
