CHAPTER 159: THE FLAMES OF A NEW BEGINNING

Emma felt her body swaying forward. She caught herself on the edge of a vase table, her pulse pounding in her ears louder than the conversation.

She didn’t want to believe it—but it only got worse.

Morris cracked.

"Shit! If only you had controlled her more... We already killed her parents..."

Emma clapped a trembling hand over her mouth to keep the scream from escaping.

They... Her mind stuttered. They killed Jean’s parents? Derek and Darla are not Jean’s actual parents?!

Her father... the one man she believed in, trusted more than anyone...

"If only our father hadn’t had a bastard child..." Morris muttered, sweating now. "If only that bastard sister hadn’t given birth to an heir..."

The sound of something shattering inside her was deafening. Her knees buckled, but she forced herself to stand.

Derek’s voice surged, shaking the room.

"We did what was necessary! We were drowning in debt! Jean was our chance to rise again... you agreed, Morris! Don’t pretend your hands are clean!"

Alex laughed bitterly from his chair. He’d clearly heard this argument a hundred times.

Emma’s fingernails dug into her palm, hard enough to draw blood.

Jean is... my cousin. My blood. And they... they...

Her father’s voice broke again, this time cracking under pressure.

"I can’t do this again. I have a daughter, Derek! I have a daughter!"

There it was.

Hope.

Just a flicker.

But Alex crushed it in one breath.

"You have a snake for a daughter! She’s the reason Jean slipped out of our grasp! She helped her sneak!"

Emma’s breath hitched. Her head whipped toward the door, just as Alex’s chair scraped against the floor.

"I need a smoke," he growled.

No. No no no.

Emma spun and ran, her heels clicking against the tiles in frantic escape.

But it was too late.

Alex’s cold eyes catching her shadow flicker under the chandelier light. His lips curved slowly, cruelly, into a sinister smile.

He saw her.

And now... Emma Adams had a target on her back too.

_________________________

The moment Emma burst into the hallway, her breath ragged, she knew she couldn’t stay.

Not here. Not under the same roof as men who murdered their own blood.

Her hands trembled as she reached the staircase, heart hammering against her ribs. She didn’t know if it was adrenaline or betrayal that made her legs numb. Her father’s words played on a loop in her head... We already killed her parents.

She stumbled out the front door, ignoring the butler’s confused call. The night was thick and heavy with silence.

She had to run. To Jean. To Logan.

To someone who wouldn’t kill her for the sake of business shares.

She sprinted toward the garage, her heels barely keeping up with her pace.

"Morris Adams’s golden daughter, stealing a car," she muttered bitterly, typing in the garage code with shaky fingers. The lock beeped. The gate lifted. She jumped into the black convertible her father adored... the keys were always in the valet box.

"Sorry, Dad but you deserve it," she whispered, slamming the door shut. The engine roared to life, echoing like a gunshot across the estate.

Tires screeched as she peeled out of the driveway.

But something was wrong.

The moment she turned onto the main road, her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

Headlights.

Bright and uncomfortably close.

Her stomach dropped.

"No... no no no..."

She took a sharp turn to the right, into a quieter service lane that led toward the city highway... but the headlights followed. She stepped on the gas, praying to every god she never believed in.

Another turn. Another swerve.

Still behind her.

The phone in the passenger seat buzzed. She reached over with shaking hands... Jean.

But just before she could answer, a call interrupted.. Private Number.

Emma stared at the screen. Then, a ping.

A message.

"Run, little snake. I’ll always find you." – Alex

Her hands went ice cold. Her breaths came faster.

He knew.

He was behind her.

Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The only thing she could do now was survive long enough to get to Jean.

To warn her before it was too late.

The rain began to fall lightly, speckling the windshield as Emma drove through the curving highway, her fingers turned white knuckling around the steering wheel. The Adams estate was long behind her now... but her panic hadn’t slowed.

Her mind screamed louder than the engine... I need to reach Jean. I need to tell her. I need to warn her before it’s too late.

The phone on the passenger seat blinked uselessly... still no signal, no returned calls.

"No, no, no..." she whispered, voice breaking. "Please, just let me make it..."

Then, the headlights came closer.

Blinding. Fast. Approaching in the rearview mirror like a phantom. Too fast for a normal chase. Too quiet to be safe.

Is he going to kill me?

Emma’s pulse skyrocketed.

Her instinct screamed to run.

She swerved into the next lane, hoping to shake him, but Alex’s car behind her matched every move. Closer. Closer.

A sharp nudge to her back bumper.

Her car jolted forward.

"No... stop it! Stop it!" she yelled, slamming her palm on the steering wheel, trying to keep steady.

Another hit. Harder.

Her tires screeched. The road curved.

But she didn’t.

The guardrail shattered like paper. Her world flipped... glass and steel spinning as her car rolled over the embankment. Time slowed.

Emma’s final thought wasn’t fear.

It was grief.

And then, everything went black.

___________________________

Alex stood by the edge of the cliff road, watching the burning wreckage below with an emotionless gaze. One hand held a cigarette. The other, his phone.

"Make sure the crash looks clean," he said to the man beside him. "Brake failure. Rain. Maybe she was tired from traveling. They’ll believe it."

The henchman nodded and walked away to finish the details.

Alex took one last look at the flames.

"Stupid girl," he muttered, before turning his back on the smoke, on the fire, and on the last hope Jean Adams never knew she had.