Chapter 2
The next morning, I went to Emily's place.
The Harris family's villa was on the east side of the city. It was a detached villa with its own garden.
The maid opened the door.
"Mr. Sinclair, you're here," she said.
She looked conflicted, as if she had something to say but stopped herself.
As I walked in, I glanced around the living room.
The coffee table was new.
But the base of the vase was still in the corner, and there was a faint scratch on the floor next to it.
It hadn't been replaced. Maybe nobody cared.
Emily came down the stairs in loose loungewear, clearly heavily pregnant.
She was briefly surprised when she saw me, then smiled.
"Why are you here? I thought you weren't coming back until next week," she said.
"I came back early," I replied.
I looked at Emily's arm. Her sleeve was hanging low, but I could still spot the edge of the bandage.
I said, "Let me see."
Emily replied, "Really, it's nothing. Just a little scrape. "
I gently pushed her sleeve up.
There were three scratches, the longest one running from her wrist halfway up her forearm.
They weren't deep, thankfully.
But they'd been caused by glass.
I felt my breath hitch for a moment.
"Emily," I said.
"Yeah?" she murmured.
"Where's Edward?"
"He... left for work early this morning."
'He went to the office,' I thought, feeling a mix of disbelief and disappointment. 'He spent last night with his mistress, and this morning, he headed straight to work.
'Emily, eight months pregnant and with her arm wrapped in bandages, is at home. And he still chose work over her.'
I sat down and poured myself a glass of water.
"Emily, tell me the truth. Has this ever happened before?" I asked.
Emily didn't look at me.
She kept her head down, nervously twisting the hem of her clothes.
"Yes," she finally admitted.
I set my glass down.
"How long has this been going on?" I pressed.
"James, please, don't—" she started.
"How long?" I repeated, my voice firm.
She bit her lip.
"Since I got pregnant, I've been a little moody. He's been stressed out, too, and sometimes he loses his temper," Emily said softly.
"He loses his temper?" I asked, surprised by what I had heard.
Emily looked up at me, her eyes rimmed with tears.
"James, I can handle it. I've already sent the photos to Caroline. She'll deal with it. Every time she wires me some money as compensation," Emily said.
I stared at her.
"Compensation?" I asked.
"Yeah. Last time, she transferred me 150 thousand dollars," Emily replied.
'150 thousand dollars,' I repeated in my mind.
He beat his wife and smashed up the furniture. Then his mother sent his wife 150 thousand dollars.
To the Harris family, Emily's dignity came with a price tag, plain and simple.
I stood up.
"Emily, rest for now. I've got something to handle," I said.
"James!" Emily called out, stopping me. "Don't go looking for Edward. It won't help. The Harris family... they're out of our league."
I turned back to her.
Her eyes were filled with worry.
She wasn't worried about herself but that I'd get hurt if I tangled with the Harris family.
It felt like someone had grabbed my heart and squeezed it tight.
"Emily, I'm going out for a bit. Don't worry about it." I comforted her.