Chapter 5 - The Sanctuary Restored
I led Emma away from the dining room, down the long mahogany hallway, and up the grand staircase to the third-floor master suite.
As I pushed the heavy oak doors open, I froze in shock.
The grand master suite—which I had custom-designed before I left overseas with Italian marble, broad glass windows, and a private balcony—was completely empty. The furniture had been moved out. In its place were stacked storage boxes filled with Jennifer’s old clothes and Michael’s golf gear.
"Where is our furniture, Emma?" I asked, my blood running cold again.
Emma looked down at her feet, speaking softly. "Margaret took the master suite three years ago. She said it was too large for one person. She... she moved me down to the small room behind the kitchen."
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to control the sheer, blinding rage threatening to burst from my chest.
"Show me your room," I whispered softly.
Emma led me down the rear service stairs—the stairs used by catering staff—to a tiny, windowless twelve-by-twelve room located right behind the laundry quarter.
Inside was a simple twin metal cot, a single wooden chair, and a small dresser with a cracked mirror. On the tiny table sat a single framed photograph: our wedding day six years ago, when we stood in front of a small Justice of the Peace, laughing under a cheap plastic arch, holding hands and promising to love each other through anything.
I sat down on the edge of the small cot, burying my face in my hands, weeping silently.
"Ethan..." Emma murmured, rushing over to kneel beside me, her small, rough hands gently touching my knees. "Don't cry... please don't cry. You're home now. That's all that matters to me."
"I left you in hell, Emma," I sobbed, pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her as if she were a precious glass vase that might break. "I was overseas playing the grand businessman, thinking I was building a future for us... while the people I trusted treated you like garbage in our own home!"
"You didn't know," she whispered, leaning her head against my shoulder, her tears wetting my shirt. "They took my phone, Ethan. Every time I tried to write you a letter or use the house computer, Jennifer watched me. They told me that if I ever tried to contact you or cause trouble, they would tell you I was sleeping with other men and spending your money. They said you would divorce me and leave me with nothing."
"They lied," I squeezed her tightly. "They lied to you, and they lied to me. But the lie is over, Emma. I swear to God, the lie is over."
I reached into my suit jacket pocket and pulled out the small velvet box I had brought with me from Singapore.
I opened it.
Inside sat a flawless, six-carat solitaire diamond necklace, catching the dim light of the small room, sparkling with pure brilliance.
"I bought this for you in Singapore," I whispered, lifting it out of the velvet lining and gently fastening it around her neck.
Emma looked down at the glittering diamond resting against her simple cotton dress, her eyes brimming with fresh tears.
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"It’s beautiful, Ethan..."
"You are the owner of this house, Emma," I said, looking straight into her eyes. "And starting tomorrow, every single person who ever made you feel small in this city will answer to us."
