Chapter 8

Emerson POV:

I gasped, my eyes snapping open. My head throbbed. I was dangling in mid-air, ropes cutting into my wrists and ankles. Below me, a dizzying height. Beside me, swaying precariously, was Alicia. Her eyes were wide with terror, her face streaked with tears.

Masked figures stood below, their voices muffled. A familiar voice, laced with a cold, calculating edge, cut through the din. "Axel Flynn! Your choice. Her," the voice indicated me, "or her," pointing to Alicia. "Only one leaves here alive."

My heart pounded. This was it. The final act. He would choose Alicia. He always chose Alicia.

But Axel's voice, calm and even, surprised me. "You're not in a position to make demands." He didn't even acknowledge the choice. "Release them now, or you'll regret it."

A flurry of movement below. Axel's men, swift and brutal, swarmed the masked figures. Gunshots. Shouts. It was over almost as quickly as it began.

Axel stood below us, his gaze sweeping over the scene. His eyes, for a fleeting moment, landed on me. Then, they darted to Alicia. A fractional hesitation. A choice, already made.

He pointed to Alicia. "Lower her first!"

My stomach clenched. I knew it. Right up until the end, it was her. Always her.

As Alicia was lowered, one of the masked figures, now subdued, blurted out, "She hired us! The one still hanging! She paid us to kidnap Alicia and frame you!"

My blood ran cold. The sheer audacity. The calculated cruelty. I had just been released from his isolation room, half-starved, half-mad. How could I have arranged this? The irony was so bitter, it almost made me laugh.

But Axel believed it. I saw it in his eyes. A flash of chilling certainty. He didn't even question it. He just accepted it, readily.

He caught Alicia as she was lowered, cradling her in his arms. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a cold, hard disgust. "You truly are a monster, Emerson. How could you?"

Alicia, nestled in his arms, met my gaze. A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk. A flicker of triumph. She gave the subdued masked man a barely there nod.

The ropes holding me were suddenly cut. I plummeted, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Pain, searing and intense, shot through my body. Before I could even register the agony, a flurry of kicks and punches rained down on me. The masked figures, still enraged by their capture, took their frustrations out on me.

I curled into a ball, my arms wrapped around my head, trying to shield myself from the blows. I couldn't scream. Couldn't move. All I could feel was the crushing weight of their hatred, and Axel's silent, condemning stare.

I hate him. I hate him for everything. The thought, raw and primal, echoed in my mind. I regret every second I wasted loving you. We are over.

I thought I was going to die. This was it. The end of Emerson Boone.

Then, a sliver of dawn broke through the shattered window, painting the grimy room with a fragile, ethereal light. I was alive. Still alive.

My phone, miraculously still in my pocket, buzzed. A notification. Your divorce certificate is ready for collection.

A cold, determined resolve settled over me. I wasn't dead. And I was free. Free from Axel, free from Alicia, free from this toxic, suffocating life.

I dragged myself onto a plane, leaving everything behind. New York, Axel, the Boones, the Flynns – all of it was a bitter memory. My destination: London. A new life. A new beginning.

My phone rang. Axel. His voice, strained and irritable, pierced through my fragile peace.

"Emerson! What the hell are you doing now? Running away? Are you trying to make things worse for Alicia?"

I closed my eyes. "What do you want, Axel?"

"Alicia has forgiven you," he said, as if bestowing a great honor. "She's willing to let bygones be bygones. She even wants you to come to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for her new studio. To show solidarity."

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. Solidarity? After she stole my company, had me locked up, and framed me for kidnapping?

"You want me to attend her ribbon-cutting, Axel?" I asked, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "Are you out of your mind? Or are you just trying to humiliate me further?"

He sighed, a long, exasperated sound. "Emerson, don't be dramatic. It's for the best. It shows unity. You wouldn't want to cause any more trouble, would you?"

"Why? Are you afraid I'll expose her?" I challenged, a bitter smile on my lips. "Are you afraid I'll tell the world what a manipulative, scheming bitch she truly is?"

A moment of silence. Then, his voice, softer now, almost pleading. "Emerson, just... stay home. Rest. Don't do anything rash."

Suddenly, the airport announcer's voice boomed over the intercom. "Flight BA286 to London, now boarding at Gate E3."

"Where are you?" Axel demanded, his voice sharp with alarm. "What was that?"

"Just going for a walk, Axel," I said, my voice light, airy. "A very, very long walk."

A surge of panic, raw and immediate, flashed through him. Emerson? Is that really you?

"Find her!" he barked into the phone, his voice tight with desperation. "Find her now! Before she does something stupid!"

But his words were cut short by a sudden, chaotic roar. My flight was boarding. I switched off my phone.

Back in New York, the scene at Alicia' s ribbon-cutting ceremony was chaos. Protesters. Dozens of them, chanting, holding signs. "Thief!" "Plagiarist!" "Flynn's Puppet!" The words echoed, loud and clear.