---- Chapter 15 Emily POV: | threw myself into the project, working with a feverish intensity | hadn't felt in years. | spent days dissecting the startup's financials, researching their competitors, and interviewing their founders. Josiah was a constant presence, a steady source of guidance, but he never interfered. He let me make my own assessments, my own mistakes, and my own discoveries. A week later, | presented him with my final report: a fifty-page analysis recommending a pass on the investment, detailing a dozen red flags and potential pitfalls he and his team had missed. He read it in silence, his expression unreadable. When he finished, he closed the binder, looked at me, and a slow, proud smile spread across his face. "Excellent work, Emily. You just saved me ten million dollars." To celebrate, he took me to a Michelin-starred restaurant tucked away on a quiet Parisian side street. The room was opulent, the food was exquisite, but what | remember most was the conversation. "To Emily Ramos," Josiah said, raising his glass of champagne. "The sharpest analyst I've ever had." ---- | felt a rush of pride so potent it made me dizzy. | clinked my glass against his and drank, the crisp bubbles a celebration on my tongue. The wine loosened my inhibitions, and | found myself talking for the first time about everything | had kept locked away. | told him about Leo, about his kindness and his courage. | told him about the early days with Killian, the shared dreams and the crushing poverty. And | told him about the future | was now planning, a future built on justice and retribution. "Thank you, Josiah," | said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "For everything. But most of all... for putting the idea of revenge in my head." My nose tingled, my eyes burning. "I think... if you hadn't found me, if you hadn't given me a purpose... | might have just given up. | might have just... ended it." The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and fragile. He didn't offer platitudes or reassurances. He just reached across the table and covered my hand with his, his touch warm and firm. A silent promise of support. After dinner, we walked home through the lamplit streets, the cool night air a welcome relief. We were discussing a new acquisition strategy when | heard it-the sound of running footsteps behind us, heavy and frantic. | turned, my heart seizing in my chest. It was him. Killian stood under a streetlight a dozen feet away, looking like ---- a ghost. He was thinner, his face gaunt and shadowed with exhaustion. The impeccable designer suits were gone, replaced by rumpled jeans and a t-shirt. He looked haunted, lost. He looked like the boy | had first met in the diner all those years ago. His eyes, wild and desperate, found mine. In three long strides, he closed the distance between us, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. The touch was electric, a jolt of unwanted familiarity. "Emily," he rasped, his voice raw with a pain that mirrored my own. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Come home. Please, just come home." | wrenched my arm from his grasp, my skin crawling. "Get away from me,"| spat, my voice filled with a loathing so pure it surprised me. "You need to leave. Now." His face crumpled, his eyes filling with a desperate, pathetic remorse. "| know | messed up, Em. | know. But | didn't know about Leo. | swear to God, | didn't know how sick he was. | thought you were just... angry about Dallas. | thought it was just a fight." A cold, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. "You didn't know? | called you fifty-seven times, Killian. | left you two dozen messages. You didn't know because you couldn't be bothered to listen." My voice rose, shaking with the force of my grief and rage. "You were too busy buying her cats, Killian! You chose a goddamn cat over my brother's life!" ---- His body flinched as if | had physically struck him. He raised a trembling hand and slapped himself across the face, a hard, vicious blow that echoed in the quiet street. "l know," he choked out, tears streaming down his face. "I know. I'm a monster. But | can fix it. I'll get rid of her. | swear, Em, it will only ever be you. Just you. Forever." The sheer, unmitigated gall of his words, of his promises, ignited the last bit of fuel in my empty soul. | drew back my hand and, with all the strength | possessed, | slapped him across the face.