Chapter 3
Jackson took my hand and gently ushered me into the car, his voice calm but strained, as if he were trying to keep his frustration in check.
“Emilia, it’s a lot for him to take in right now. Let’s give it some time, okay?”
After a quick check at the hospital revealed Barry was fine, we headed back to their villa.
I had some things I needed to collect.
At the entrance, Rebecca was anxiously waiting. The moment Barry stepped out of the car, he ran straight to her. She knelt down, concern etched on her face as she examined his injuries, tears welling up in her eyes.
“How did this happen? Does it hurt?”
Barry wiped away her tears and cupped her face, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I’m okay, Mommy. Don’t cry. I want to sleep with you.”
He was being so sweet and affectionate, charming Rebecca as he leaned into her.
My heart twisted at the sight. My son was so polite and caring, just as I had always hoped he would be.
Chapter 3
Rebecca stood up and took the items from Jackson’s hands,
effortlessly helping him out of his suit jacket, as if she had done this a thousand times before.
“Amanda, fetch the stomach–soothing soup and Barry’s milk,” she said, her tone authoritative, as if she were the head of the household.
While they basked in their little family moment, I slipped away to the study, searching for my design sketches. After rummaging through drawers and files, I came up empty. Then it hit me. I quickly booted up the computer and searched for “Rebecca’s designs.”
One by one, my sketches appeared on the screen, each one an echo of my creativity…
In the three years since I’d been locked away, Rebecca had built her career on my stolen work, becoming a renowned designer in the
process.
I marched downstairs to confront her. “Rebecca, you stole my sketches, didn’t you?”
Her gaze darted away, and she forced a sheepish smile before shifting her eyes to Jackson.
I didn’t understand what that meant until he spoke up, “I gave them to Rebecca.”
His calm delivery of those words felt like a punch to the gut, and
Chapter 3
there wasn’t a hint of remorse on his face.
“Emilia, those sketches are useless in your hands,” I insisted, my voice rising.
“Useless? Why would you say that?” My heart ached at the thought of my hard work being dismissed.
Jackson exhaled sharply, reaching out as if to place a comforting hand on my shoulder.
I instinctively brushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”
He knew better than anyone how passionate I was about jewelry design.
Each sketch was a piece of my soul, crafted after countless sleepless nights and bursts of inspiration.
If it weren’t for the time I spent in prison to cover for him, I’d be at the pinnacle of the design world by now.
“Emilia, face the facts. Who’s going to celebrate a criminal as a designer?” he said, his voice laced with a mix of empathy and hard truth.
I had traced Jackson’s face with my fingers countless times in prison, yet now, I barely recognized him.
“And what about you? Isn’t stealing my designs just as criminal? I want a public apology from you, a joint statement admitting you took my sketches, or I’ll go public myself.”
Chapter 3
Jackson grasped my hand, trying to pull me back from the brink. “Come on, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Those sketches don’t have names on them. Anyone can use them. Plus, can you really bear to let people know your son’s mother is a convict? Have you thought about his future?
“Tomorrow, I’ll ask Amanda to leave. You can stay home and take care of things. You can always be Barry’s mom at home, right?”
“What about outside?” I shot back.
4/5
Jackson stood there, visibly disappointed, his eyes downcast. “Emilia, does the outside world really matter that much? I’m not the same Jackson anymore. Our son needs a resume he can be proud of.”
So Barry’s resume hinged on having a CEO dad and a renowned designer mother.
Once one person had been in prison, they expected him to live in the shadows forever.
I forced a wry smile. I felt a mix of sorrow and fury well up inside me, leaving me speechless.
I mused, “Who is truly fixated on appearances here?”
Rebecca walked over to Jackson and spoke softly, “Maybe I should just head out.”
Chapter 3
“No need for that,” Jackson and I replied simultaneously, the absurdity of our shared response hanging in the air.
“I’m leaving,” I declared, turning on my heel.
Behind me, Rebecca sounded remorseful. “I’ll talk to Emilia. You two don’t need to fight because of me…”
5/5
Jackson snapped, “That has nothing to do with you. Does she think she’s still the old Emilia? She can’t even see how far she’s
fallen!”
After I inserted my SIM card, my phone buzzed with the first incoming call.
“Is this Ms. Aniston? Your grandfather has left you an inheritance.”
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