Emma's POV
I stare at my phone, the threatening message burning into my brain.
"Emma?" Nathan's voice sounds far away even though he's right next to me. "What is it? What's wrong?"
I can't speak. Can't move. Someone was watching us the entire time. Someone photographed us all at the dock. Someone who claims Ryan was just a pawn.
Which means everything we just survived—the explosion, the confessions, Ryan's arrest—it was all part of someone else's bigger plan.
"Emma!" Nathan shakes my shoulder gently. "You're scaring me. Talk to me."
I show him the phone with trembling hands.
His face goes white as he reads the message. "This can't be real. We got Ryan. It's over."
"Is it?" I look around at the chaos—ambulances, police cars, officers everywhere. "Ryan said he orchestrated everything. But what if someone orchestrated him?"
Mom appears beside us, wrapped in an emergency blanket, her face grim. "Let me see."
I hand her the phone. She studies the photo for a long moment, zooming in on the hooded figure in the background.
"I saw this person," she says quietly. "Earlier tonight, in the woods near the Morrison house. I thought they were part of Cooper's backup team. But they disappeared before I could ask."
"Man or woman?" Nathan asks.
"Couldn't tell. They stayed in shadow the whole time." Mom's jaw tightens. "But they knew where to stand to avoid the security cameras I'd set up. They knew exactly where our blind spots were."
A chill runs down my spine. "Which means they've been watching us for a while. Planning this."
"Or they had help from someone who knows our patterns," Nathan adds.
We all think the same thing at once: Who else is working against us?
An EMT approaches, interrupting our conversation. "Mr. Cross, we really need to get you to the hospital. That shoulder wound needs proper treatment."
"I'm fine—"
"You're not fine," I interrupt. "Nathan, please. Go with them. Get checked out. I'll be okay here."
"I'm not leaving you alone. Not after that message."
"She won't be alone." Mom puts her arm around me. "I'll stay with her. And look—" She points to where several officers are standing guard around Lily. "We have protection. Real protection this time."
Nathan hesitates, then nods reluctantly. "Promise me you'll call if anything happens. Anything."
"I promise." I squeeze his uninjured hand. "Thank you. For everything. For coming back into my life. For saving me."
"You saved yourself, Emma. I just helped you remember you're strong enough to fight back." He touches my face gently, his eyes full of things we don't have time to say. "I'll see you soon. Stay safe."
As they load Nathan into an ambulance, I feel a piece of my heart going with him. After ten years apart, I finally have him back. I can't lose him now.
"He'll be okay," Mom says, reading my thoughts like she always could. "That man is tougher than he looks. And he loves you too much to let a bullet wound slow him down."
"How did you know—"
"That he loves you? Emma, I've always known. Even ten years ago when you were dating Ryan, I could see how Nathan looked at you. Like you were the sun and he was happy just to be in your orbit." Mom's expression softens. "He's good for you. Ryan tried to dim your light. Nathan makes it shine brighter."
Tears blur my vision. "I don't deserve him. After everything I put him through—"
"Stop." Mom's voice is firm. "Ryan made you doubt yourself, made you think you weren't worthy of love. That's his poison talking, not reality. Nathan knows who you are. And he chooses you anyway. Let him."
Before I can respond, Detective Cooper approaches. His hands are cuffed, two officers flanking him.
"Mrs. Sullivan," he says, his voice heavy with shame. "I know I have no right to ask, but I need to tell you something. About the person in that photo."
I go rigid. "You know who it is?"
"No. But I know when they started appearing. Three years ago, right after you left Ryan. Someone approached me with an offer—money in exchange for keeping Ryan's activities off the police radar. I thought Ryan was behind it. But now I realize the payments came from a shell company I couldn't trace. Ryan was being bankrolled by someone else."
"Who?" Mom demands.
"I don't know. We only communicated through encrypted messages. But they knew things—personal things about Ryan, about you, about Sophie's death. Things only someone on the inside would know."
My mind races. "Someone who was there eight years ago? Someone who knew all of us?"
Cooper shakes his head slowly. "Or someone who's been watching all of you for much longer than eight years. Someone patient enough to set this plan in motion and wait for the perfect moment to execute it."
The officers start leading Cooper away. He looks back at me one last time. "Be careful, Emma. Whoever this is, they're smarter than Ryan ever was. And they've already proven they'll destroy anyone who gets in their way."
As Cooper disappears into a police car, I feel the weight of his warning settle over me like a blanket.
Sophie is being loaded into an ambulance, still unconscious but stable. Dr. Martinez is in another ambulance, handcuffed to a stretcher, looking broken and defeated.
Ryan is in a police car, still laughing that insane laugh even as they drive him away.
But the real enemy is still out there. Watching. Waiting.
"We need to go," Mom says urgently. "Get Lily and get somewhere safe. My place has better security than yours. We can regroup there, figure out our next move."
I nod, too exhausted to argue. We collect Lily from the officers watching her. She's half-asleep, confused by all the noise and lights.
"Is it over, Mommy?" she asks as I carry her to Mom's car.
I want to say yes. I want to lie and tell her we're safe now. But I can't.
"It's over for tonight, baby. That's enough for now."
We drive to Mom's safe house—a small cabin on the other side of town that nobody knows about. The place where she's been hiding for five years, watching over me from a distance.
Inside, it's warm and secure. Mom makes tea while I put Lily to bed in the guest room. My daughter falls asleep immediately, exhausted from the trauma.
I sit beside her for a long time, watching her breathe, memorizing her face. She's the only purely good thing in my life. Whatever comes next, I have to protect her.
When I finally join Mom in the kitchen, she slides a cup of tea across the table to me.
"Drink. You need it."
The tea is hot and sweet. I wrap my hands around the cup, trying to stop their shaking.
"Mom? How did you do it? How did you survive five years of hiding, watching me suffer from a distance, not being able to help?"
Mom's eyes fill with tears. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done. Every day, I wanted to come back, to save you from Ryan. But I knew if I showed myself too soon, he'd kill us both. So I waited. I planned. I gathered evidence. And I told myself that when the time was right, I'd help you destroy him."
"And now?"
"Now we face whatever comes next. Together." She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "No more secrets. No more hiding. No more fighting alone."
I squeeze her hand, drawing strength from her presence. For five years, I thought I was an orphan. Now I have my mother back. And Nathan. And a chance at a real future.
If we can survive whatever's coming.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, drinking our tea, both lost in thought.
Then my phone buzzes.
Another message from the unknown number.
My stomach drops. "Not again."
But when I open it, the message is different this time. Not a threat. Just three words and a video attachment:
"Remember this, Emma?"
I click the video with shaking hands.
It starts playing. The footage is old, grainy, shot on someone's phone eight years ago. It shows a party—the party where Ryan drugged Nathan and Sophie.
I watch, horrified, as the camera follows a younger Nathan stumbling through the crowd, clearly drugged. Sophie appears, also unsteady, also drugged. Someone guides them both toward a bedroom.
But the camera doesn't follow them inside. Instead, it pans to show who's filming.
My breath stops.
It's not Ryan holding the camera.
It's me.
Twenty-four-year-old me, looking directly into the camera, smiling, saying words I don't remember: "This is going to be so perfect. Ryan's plan is genius. By tomorrow, Sophie will be pregnant and Nathan will be too guilty to ever tell anyone what happened. And Emma—sweet, stupid Emma—she'll never know her precious best friends betrayed her. This is going to destroy her."
The video ends.
I drop the phone like it's burning me.
"No." My voice comes out as a whisper. "No, that's not real. That's not me."
But it looked like me. Sounded like me. Moved like me.
Mom grabs the phone, watches the video, her face going pale. "Emma, this is fake. It has to be. Deepfake technology—"
"But what if it's not?" Panic rises in my chest. "What if I was there? What if I helped Ryan drug them? What if I'm not the victim I thought I was? What if I'm the monster?"
"Stop it." Mom grabs my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "Listen to me. You were in Boston that night. You have proof. Nathan called you. Your roommate saw you. This video is fake. Someone is trying to make you doubt yourself again."
"But it looks so real—"
"That's the point! Whoever is doing this knows your biggest fear is that you're as bad as Ryan. They're exploiting it." Mom's voice is fierce. "Don't let them win. Don't let them make you question your own reality."
I want to believe her. But the doubt has already taken root, growing like poison in my mind.
What if I did help Ryan? What if my whole life is a lie?
What if I'm not the survivor—I'm the villain?
My phone buzzes again. Another message:
"You wanted the truth, Emma? Here it is. You weren't Ryan's victim. You were his partner. You helped him destroy Sophie and Nathan. You helped him manipulate everyone. And deep down, buried under all that fake trauma and convenient amnesia, you remember. Don't you? You remember what you really are. Tomorrow night, come to the place where you buried the truth. Come alone. Bring this video to Nathan and watch him finally see you for what you are. Or come to me and I'll help you remember everything. Your choice. But choose fast. Because in 24 hours, I'm releasing this video to the world. And everyone will know that Emma Sullivan isn't a survivor. She's a monster who's been playing victim for eight years. The clock is ticking. —Your Conscience"
The phone falls from my numb hands.
Mom is saying something but I can't hear her over the roaring in my ears.
Twenty-four hours. That's all I have to figure out if I'm the person I think I am or the monster in that video.
Twenty-four hours to find out if my entire life is a lie.
Twenty-four hours to discover the truth.
Even if that truth destroys everything I believe about myself.