Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Emeralds
The inside of the mansion was breathtaking. High ceilings, marble floors, artworks that probably cost more than Jonathan’s entire life. But I barely noticed. The moment I stepped into the foyer, a team of people descended upon me—a doctor, a nurse, a housekeeper, a nutritionist.
Nathaniel vanished into his office, leaving me in the care of Mrs. Hale, his stern but kind head of staff.
"Upstairs, dear," Mrs. Hale said, her voice brooking no argument. "The doctor needs to check the baby. You’ve been through enough trauma today to trigger early labor."
The next hour was a blur of blood pressure cuffs, ultrasound gel, and gentle reassurances. The baby was fine—strong heartbeat, moving actively, apparently unaware that his world had just been turned upside down. When they were done, I was led to a bedroom that was bigger than the entire apartment I’d shared with Jonathan. A king-sized bed, a sitting area, a fireplace, and a balcony overlooking the city lights.
I sat on the edge of the bed, finally alone. The events of the day crashed down on me. The judge’s gavel. Jonathan’s sneer. Lila’s fingers curling around my mother’s emerald necklace. The rain. Nathaniel’s voice promising annihilation.
Your mother.
The words echoed in my head. How did Nathaniel Cross know my mother? She’d died when I was twelve, leaving me with nothing but that necklace and a box of old photos. She’d been a nurse. A nobody. Just like me.
I stood up, my curiosity overriding my exhaustion. I wandered out of the room, down the long hallway. The house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the security system. At the end of the hall, I saw light spilling from a half-open door. It was a study.
I shouldn’t have gone in. I knew that. But something pulled me forward.
The room was lined with bookshelves. A massive mahogany desk dominated the center. And on the desk, sitting on a leather blotter, was a framed photograph.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was my mother.
She was young, maybe twenty, laughing in a summer dress. Standing next to her, looking much younger and less intimidating than he did now, was Nathaniel Cross. He was smiling too—a real, genuine smile I hadn’t seen on his face yet. They looked... close.
"I see you found it."
I jumped, dropping the frame. Nathaniel stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his cane. He didn’t look angry. He looked tired.
"I’m sorry," I stammered, bending to pick it up. "I didn’t mean to snoop—I just... I saw her face."
He pushed off the doorframe and walked into the room, stopping beside me. He looked down at the photo, his expression softening into something I couldn’t name. Grief, maybe. Longing.
"Your mother, Clara," he said quietly. "She saved my life, Grace. Twenty-two years ago. I was twenty-five, stupid, and driving too fast on a wet road. I crashed into a tree. I was bleeding out, certain I was going to die. And then she was there. A nurse on her way home from a double shift. She pulled me from the wreckage. She kept me alive until the ambulance came. She stayed with me in the hospital, even though she wasn’t assigned to my case."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"When I recovered, I tried to find her. To thank her. To repay her. But she’d moved. Changed jobs. She didn’t want money. She told me once, 'If you really want to pay me back, Mr. Cross, promise me that if my daughter ever needs help, you’ll be there.'"
The room spun. I gripped the desk for support.
"You’ve been... watching me?" I whispered.
"Guarding you," he corrected gently. "From a distance. I made sure you got into a good college. I made sure the foster system didn’t swallow you whole. And then... you married Jonathan Blackwell." His voice hardened, the ice returning. "I watched him isolate you. I watched him spend your inheritance—the money your mother left you that you never even knew existed. I watched him cheat on you with that little gold-digger. And I waited. I waited for a reason to step in that you would accept. That you wouldn’t run from."
He stepped closer, towering over me, but I didn’t feel threatened. I felt... seen. For the first time in my life.
"The necklace, Grace," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "The emerald teardrop Lila was wearing. It wasn’t just jewelry. It was the key to a safety deposit box. Inside it is the proof that Jonathan embezzled forty million dollars from his own company’s pension fund. Proof your mother collected years ago when she worked as a temp at his father’s firm. Proof that would put him behind bars for the rest of his life."
My blood ran cold.
May you like
Jonathan had kicked me out. He had stolen the only key to his own destruction.
"And now," Nathaniel said, his blue eyes glinting with a predatory light, "he’s wearing it around his whore’s neck. Walking around with a noose, thinking it’s a diamond."
