Emma’s POV

The next day, walking back into the office felt like stepping into the lion’s den, my heels clicked against the polished floor as I tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

The events of the previous day still swirled in my head, Jeff’s fury, Sam’s emotional pleas, and the suffocating tension that had turned my life upside down.

But this was work, I needed to keep it together.

As soon as I entered the open office space however, it became painfully clear that keeping it together was going to be nearly impossible. Whispers rippled through the room, and I could feel the weight of every single pair of eyes on me.

I clutched my bag tightly, pretending not to notice the blatant stares and the hushed conversations.

“Good morning Emma.” Rachel greeted, her tone far too cheerful, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Morning.” I replied, brushing past her desk as quickly as possible, but she wasn’t about to let me go so easily.

“Emma, wait.” She called out, rushing to catch up with me.

I stopped reluctantly, turning to face her. Rachel had always been friendly, but now there was an eager glint in her eyes that set me on edge.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry,” she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but what was that about yesterday? You and Jeff storming out like that? And Sam Newman showing up? Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Rachel, I really don’t want to… ”

“Come on Emma,” she interrupted, lowering her voice even more, “We’re friends, aren’t we? You can tell me. Is it true that Jeff Anderson is your ex-husband? And Sam Newman…?”

I felt my stomach tighten as her words trailed off, the unspoken implications hanging in the air.

“I appreciate your concern, but my personal life is none of your business.” I said firmly, keeping my voice calm despite the heat rising to my face.

Rachel’s expression faltered, but she quickly recovered, her smile turning apologetic, “Of course, of course. I didn’t mean to overstep, it’s just well, everyone’s curious. You can’t blame us, right?”

“Right.” I muttered, turning away before she could press further.

I reached my desk and sank into my chair, exhaling a shaky breath. My fingers hovered over my keyboard, but my focus was shot. The murmurs around me hadn’t stopped, and I could still feel the curious glances being cast in my direction.

Before I could even attempt to regain my focus, the intercom on my desk buzzed.

“Emma this is Mr. Carter. Please come to my office.”

The clipped tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine.

Great.

Just what I needed.

Grabbing my notepad as an automatic reflex, I made my way to his office. The walk felt like a gauntlet, with every step accompanied by more stares and hushed whispers.

When I reached the door, I knocked lightly.

“Come in.” Mr. Carter’s deep voice called out.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. He was seated at his desk, his piercing gaze fixed on me as he gestured for me to sit.

“Emma,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “We need to talk.”

The seriousness in his tone made my stomach churn. I nodded silently, clasping my hands tightly in my lap.

“Yesterday’s events,” He trailed off, his brows furrowing, “Let’s just say they’ve raised some questions.”

“I understand.” I said softly.

“Do you?” He countered, his gaze sharp, “Emma, I’ve always valued your professionalism, but what happened yesterday, two men storming into the office and causing a scene was unacceptable. Do you have any idea how disruptive that was?”

“I know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, “And I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression softening slightly, “Emma, I need to know what’s going on. This isn’t just idle curiosity, this is about ensuring that your personal life doesn’t interfere with your work.”

I hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on me. Could I really explain everything to him? Did I even want to?

“Emma,” he prompted gently, “if I’m going to continue trusting you with important projects like the Newman deal, I need to understand the full picture. What’s the connection between you, Jeff Anderson, and Sam Newman?”

The dam inside me broke, I couldn’t hold it all in anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I began.

“Jeff Anderson is my ex-husband. We were married for five years, but our marriage, it wasn’t a good one. He was always so focused on his career, and I felt invisible.”

Mr. Carter nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Sam Newman,” I continued, my voice trembling, “was Jeff’s personal assistant. He was different. He listened, he cared, and when things with Jeff got really bad, I found comfort in him.”

I paused, struggling to keep my composure.

“Things happened between us,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, “And I got pregnant.”

Mr. Carter’s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, allowing me to continue.

“When Jeff found out, he was furious. He divorced me immediately, and I thought, I thought I’d be with Sam but then he disappeared. One day he was there, and the next, he was gone. No explanation, no contact. Just gone.”

I looked down at my hands, twisting them nervously, “I had to leave New York. I couldn’t stay, not after everything, I moved away to raise my kids on my own.”

“And now you’re back.” Mr. Carter said quietly.

I nodded, “The company I was working for transferred me here, I thought I could handle it, for the most part, I have. But then Jeff and I reconnected, and my kids, they adore him. They think he’s their father, I’ve never told them the truth.”

“And now Sam’s back.” Mr. Carter concluded, his tone heavy with understanding.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “He wants to be a part of their lives, but I don’t know what to do. Jeff has been there for them, for me, and now Sam wants to come back and it’s just so much.”

The room fell silent as Mr. Carter processed everything I had just told him.

“Emma,” he said finally, his voice gentle, “that’s a lot. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away, “I’m trying to do what’s best for my kids but I feel like I’m being pulled in a hundred different directions.”

Mr. Carter leaned forward, his expression earnest, “Listen to me Emma. You need to follow your heart, do what you feel is right, not just for you, but for your children. They’re the most important part of this equation.”

I nodded slowly, his words sinking in.

“But,” he added, his tone firm, “you also need to set boundaries. Your personal life cannot interfere with your work again. Yesterday was a disaster, and I can’t have something like that happening here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I said quickly.

He studied me for a moment longer before nodding, “Good. Now, take a moment to collect yourself, and then get back to work and Emma?”

“Yes?”

“If you ever need to talk, my door is open.” He said, surprising me with the kindness in his tone.

“Thank you.” I whispered, my throat tight with emotion.

As I left his office and returned to my desk, I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Mr. Carter’s advice was sound, but it didn’t make my situation any less complicated.

Work continued and everyone was neck deep into the tasks they were preoccupied with, until Mr Carter came out of his office to make an announcement. 

“Can I please have everyone's attention?” He started and everyone stopped what they were doing to listen to him with rapt attention. 

“I'm sure everyone knows of our new client, Mr Sam Newman?” He asks, looking around and everyone nodded their heads in agreement. 

“Well he's hosting a gala tonight and he has kindly invited all of us to be present at his gala. So we're free to leave now as we go ahead to get ready, the details of the event will be sent to our respective mails very soon.” He finished and went back into his office. 

The office continued to buzz with quiet excitement after Mr. Carter’s announcement, but for me, the tension in the air was suffocating.

People spoke in hushed tones, their voices carrying just enough for me to catch snippets of their conversations, my name came up more than once, always accompanied by a quick glance in my direction.

I focused on gathering my things, hoping to slip out unnoticed.

“Emma, are you going to the gala?” Rachel’s voice sliced through my attempt at invisibility, her curiosity was unmistakable, and I could feel her gaze boring into me.

“I haven’t decided yet.” I replied curtly, not meeting her eyes as I tucked my notepad into my bag.

“Oh come on,” she pressed, moving closer, “You have to go. Everyone will be there. It’s not every day you get to attend something hosted by Sam Newman himself.”

Her words made my stomach churn, I shot her a tight smile, “I’ll think about it.”

Rachel didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and returned to her desk. I took the opportunity to make a quick exit, heading for the restroom. I needed a moment alone, a short break from the constant pressure and judgment.

The restroom was quiet when I entered. I chose the farthest stall, locking the door and leaning against it.

My breathing was shallow, my heart racing as I replayed the events of the day, the stares, the whispers, the weight of Mr. Carter’s ultimatum, it was all too much.

Just as I began to collect myself, the door creaked open, and a group of women entered, their voices echoed against the tiled walls, and I froze when I heard my name.

“Can you believe all this drama with Emma?” One of them said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“I know,” another replied, “First Jeff Anderson, now Sam? She’s juggling them like some kind of love triangle from a cheap romance novel.”

A third voice chimed in, sharper than the others, “Honestly, she’s such a mess. I heard Jeff was a total playboy, why would she go back to someone like that? Sam seems like the better choice.”

“Better choice?” Someone else countered, “He disappeared on her, didn’t he? What kind of man does that? If you ask me, she’s better off alone.”

“Please,” the first voice sneered, “She’s probably loving all the attention, some people just thrive on drama.”

Their laughter rang out, cutting through me like a knife and I pressed my hands to my face, willing the tears to stay away.

Their words stung more than I wanted to admit, and the helplessness I felt only added to my growing anxiety.

When they finally left, I emerged from the stall, my reflection in the mirror a grim reminder of how fragile I felt. I splashed cold water on my face, taking deep breaths to steady myself.

By the time I left the office and arrived home, my heart felt like it was weighed down by a thousand stones.

The twins, however, greeted me with their usual excitement, their bright smiles momentarily lifting the heavy cloud over me.

“Mommy, look what I drew at school.” Anna exclaimed, holding up a colorful picture of a family standing under a big yellow sun.

“That’s beautiful sweetheart.” I said, crouching down to admire her work.

“Can we help with dinner?” Jason chimed in, bouncing on his toes.

“Of course.” I replied, forcing a smile.

Their innocent enthusiasm was exactly what I needed, even if my thoughts were miles away.

We cooked together, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of pasta and garlic bread, I savored these moments, knowing how fleeting they could be.

After dinner, I tucked the twins into bed, their soft whispers and sleepy smiles grounding me in a way nothing else could.

Once they were asleep, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had decided earlier that I wouldn’t attend the gala, but Mr. Carter’s words played over and over in my mind.

“Emma, I need you there. Your presence is non-negotiable.”

Resigned, I opened my closet and pulled out a black dress I hadn’t worn in years.

It was elegant but understated, the kind of dress that wouldn’t draw too much attention.

My hands trembled as I slipped it on, the cool fabric brushing against my skin. I kept my makeup minimal, just enough to enhance my features without standing out.

Just as I fastened my earrings, I heard the front door open and close with a soft thud, I frowned, glancing at the clock, it was late.

When I opened the door, Jeff stood there, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine. His presence was commanding, as always, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Jeff.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes swept over me, lingering for a moment before meeting mine, “You look stunning.” He said, his tone soft but laced with something deeper.

“Thanks.” I replied. 

“I got an invite for the gala too and I thought we could go together.” He said, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“No thank you.” I said quickly, grabbing my clutch.

“Emma… ”

“I’ll see you later.” I cut him off, brushing past him and heading out the door.

The drive to the Whitmore Hotel felt like an eternity. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and my hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

When I arrived, the grandeur of the event was overwhelming. The ballroom was a sea of glittering chandeliers, elegant decor, and impeccably dressed guests.

I stepped inside, my nerves on edge as I scanned the room. Almost immediately, I felt Sam’s presence. He approached me with that familiar, disarming smile, his eyes lighting up when they met mine.

“Emma,” he said warmly, his voice cutting through the hum of the crowd, “You came.”

“Mr. Newman,” I replied, keeping my tone professional.

His smile faltered slightly at my formality, but he recovered quickly, “You look beautiful.” He said, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Thank you.” I said shortly.

He didn’t leave my side, his attention unwavering, it was unnerving, and I could feel the eyes of others on us.

“Sam, I… ”

“Just a moment,” he interrupted, gently placing a hand on my arm, “Come with me.”

I hesitated, but his touch was firm yet gentle, guiding me out of the ballroom and down a quiet hallway. He led me into a private lounge, the soft lighting casting shadows on the walls.

“Sam, what are we doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms as I turned to face him.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his tone earnest, “Please, just hear me out.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping, “Fine. Go ahead.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine, “Emma, I owe you an apology. For everything. For leaving, for not explaining, I made a mistake. A huge mistake, but I’m here now, and I want to make things right.”

“Sam… “

“Please, let me finish,” he said, his voice cracking slightly, “When my father found out about us, the threats he made, I thought leaving was the only way to protect you and the kids but I was wrong. I should have stayed, I should have fought for you.”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.

“All I want,” he continued, stepping closer, “is another chance. A chance to be the father I should have been. The partner you deserve.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. His confession left me speechless, my emotions swirling in a chaotic storm.

“Please Emma,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

I nodded numbly, unable to form a coherent response. The weight of his words pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.

As we stood there in silence, the distance between us felt both vast and impossibly small. My heart was torn, and I didn’t know what to do.