"You don't," I admitted, my voice raw. "And I don't blame you if you never trust me again. But I need you to know this, Emily: Mike loved you. More than anything. And if he were here right now, he'd tell you the same thing I am—that you deserve to be happy. That you deserve to be loved."

Emily's tears fell faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't know what to believe," she whispered, her voice broken. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm the man who loves you," I said, my voice trembling. "The man who would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant becoming someone else. Even if it meant losing myself."

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a storm of grief, anger, and something else—something that looked almost like understanding. "What do I do now?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You decide," I said, my heart pounding. "If you want to walk away, I'll let you. If you want to scream, to hit me, to hate me—I'll take it. Because I deserve it. But if there's even a part of you that can forgive me…"

I cupped her face, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Then let me spend the rest of my life making this right."

Emily's body shook with sobs, her hands gripping my shirt like she was drowning and I was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Emily's confession hung in the air between us, fragile and raw. "I don't know if I can," she whispered again, her voice trembling. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at you without seeing him."

I pressed my forehead to hers, my own tears mixing with hers. "Then I'll spend every day proving to you that I'm not him," I murmured, my voice breaking. "That I'm yours."

In that shattered moment, I saw the vulnerability in her eyes—the pain, the confusion, the flicker of something deeper. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't gentle. It was desperate, hungry, a collision of grief and longing.

Emily gasped against my lips, her hands flying to my chest as if to push me away, but then her fingers curled into my shirt, pulling me closer.

I deepened the kiss, my teeth grazing her lower lip, and she let out a soft, broken moan. "And to tell you the truth…" she panted, her breath uneven, "I'm jealous of Mike… for having you."

I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, my voice rough with emotion. "Forget about him, okay? Let me love you. Only you."

My lips trailed down her neck, my teeth lightly grazing her skin, and she shuddered. "Don't…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Can you… Can you give me some time? I just… I need to breathe…"

I froze, the weight of her words hitting me like a physical blow. The pleading in her eyes was unmistakable—not just for space, but for understanding.

I nodded slowly, my hands gently adjusting her clothes, smoothing the fabric as if I could somehow smooth the fractures between us. "Take all the time you need," I said softly, standing up and stepping back. "But from now on, Emily… you're mine."

I left her there, the door clicking shut behind me, the weight of her conflicted emotions lingering in the air.

The hallway felt colder, the chaos of the fortress a distant hum as I made my way toward Jennifer's room. I needed to focus, to ground myself in something—anything—other than the storm of emotions Emily had left me with.

Jennifer stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the dim light filtering through the curtains. She didn't turn as I entered, her posture rigid, as if she were lost in thought—or perhaps pretending not to notice me.

I moved silently, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, until I was close enough to reach out. My hand settled firmly on her shoulder, spinning her around to face me.

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise—or was it anticipation?—crossing her face. "You're bold, aren't you?" she murmured, her voice low and husky, a hint of challenge in her tone.

I didn't let go. Instead, I leaned in, my voice a rough whisper. "We need to talk, Jennifer." My fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down her arm, feeling the way her breath hitched. "About Emily. About what just happened."

She arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Oh? And what did happen, exactly?" Her voice was laced with amusement, but her eyes were sharp, calculating. "Did you finally break her? Or did she break you?"

I smirked, my grip tightening just enough to let her know who was in control. "Let's just say… she's mine now." My free hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. "But right now, I'm more interested in you."

Jennifer's breath caught, her body tensing—not to pull away, but to press closer. "Careful," she warned, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"I like danger," I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "And I think you do too."

She let out a slow, controlled breath, her fingers curling into my shirt. "What do you want, then?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn't answer with words. Instead, my hand slid lower, my touch firm and possessive, leaving no doubt about my intentions. "I want you to understand something," I said, my voice rough with desire. "You're not in control here. I am."

Jennifer's lips parted, her eyes darkening with a mix of defiance and arousal. "Prove it," she challenged, her voice dripping with temptation.

I grinned, my fingers tightening on her waist as I pulled her flush against me. "Oh, Jennifer," I murmured, my lips hovering just above hers. "I will."

"Look at what your daughter's actions have caused," I said, my gaze locking onto hers. "As her mother, shouldn't you bear the consequences?" My eyes flicked toward my hardened cock, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

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