Chapter 5
Ethan clung to Emma’s neck with a desperate, crushing grip, as if letting go would instantly condemn him back to the dark. His entire body trembled against her chest, violent shudders wracking his small frame. Emma held him tight, one hand smoothing his dusty hair, the other rubbing circles into his back, her silver wristwatch pressing against his shoulder blade.
"I’ve got you, sweetheart," Emma whispered into his hair, tears freely falling from her eyes. "You're safe now. You're out. I'm right here."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. He just cried—silent, agonizing sobs that shook him to his core. Slowly, the little boy pulled his head back just enough to look past Emma’s shoulder. His wide, bloodshot eyes fixed on the long, empty corridor leading to the main staircase. He stared at the bright, vibrant space as if it were a landscape of hidden monsters.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry and rasping, before bringing his gaze back to meet Emma’s. The raw, buried fear in his eyes made Emma’s blood run cold. It wasn't just the fear of the dark; it was the fear of a specific predator.
"She said Dad would never find me," Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible, broken by a terrifying certainty.
Emma’s heart slammed against her ribs. She.
There was only one woman in this house with the authority to command the staff away from the upper floors. Only one woman who wore a mask of serene perfection while her husband tore his hair out in grief downstairs. Isabella.
A fierce, maternal instinct flared to life inside Emma. The gentle, soft-spoken housekeeper vanished in an instant, replaced by a lioness cornered with a cub. She tightened her grip on the boy, her mind racing. She needed to get him to his father. She needed to bypass the stairwell, find the service elevator, and get William Sterling up here before the monster who built this cage realized her prisoner was free.
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Before Emma could formulate a plan, the soft, unmistakable rustle of heavy satin echoed from the end of the hall.
Emma froze. Ethan let out a tiny, stifled gasp, burying his face back into Emma’s neck, his fingers digging painfully into her shoulders. Emma slowly lifted her head, looking down the length of the brightly lit corridor.
