Emma's POV
I burned my hand on the oven for the third time this morning, and I didn't even care.
The cake had to be perfect. Lily's birthday cake had to be perfect because everything else in my daughter's life was falling apart, and she was too young to understand why her father couldn't love us.
"Mommy! Mommy! Look!"
Lily burst into the kitchen wearing her princess dress—the pink one with too much sparkle that I'd bought behind Julian's back because he said it was "teaching her wrong values." She twirled, and her laugh filled our enormous, cold penthouse like the only warm thing in it.
"You're beautiful, baby." I forced myself to smile even though my hand throbbed. "The most beautiful princess in the whole world."
"Will Daddy think so?" Her huge brown eyes looked up at me with so much hope that I wanted to scream.
No, baby. Daddy won't notice. Daddy never notices.
"Of course he will," I lied, like I'd been lying for five years. "Daddy will be home right on time for your party."
"Promise?"
I looked at my four-year-old daughter and did what I'd been doing since the day I married Julian Pierce—I broke my own heart to protect hers.
"Promise."
Lily squealed and ran off to play with her dolls. I looked down at my phone. 7:47 AM. No messages. No calls. Julian had left for work at 5:30 this morning without saying goodbye. Again.
I pulled out my checklist. The penthouse had to be decorated by noon. Lily's friends would arrive at two. The princess performer was scheduled for 2:30. Everything had to be perfect because if it wasn't, Julian would have another excuse to look at me like I was failing at the one job he'd married me to do.
Be a good wife. Be a good mother. Don't ask for anything.
I grabbed the decorations and started hanging pink streamers across the living room. This penthouse could fit three normal apartments inside it, but it never felt big enough to breathe. Every corner was decorated the way Julian's designer wanted—all glass and metal and cold, empty space. I'd tried to make it warmer when we first got married. Julian said my "country taste" didn't match the building's standards.
I stopped trying after that.
My phone buzzed. My heart jumped—maybe Julian remembered—but it was just the caterer confirming the delivery time. I typed back quickly and kept decorating.
By 10 AM, the living room looked like a princess castle exploded. Pink everywhere. Glitter everywhere. It was too much and too bright and absolutely perfect for a four-year-old who deserved to feel special at least one day a year.
"It's beautiful!" Lily gasped when she saw it. She ran to me and hugged my legs tight. "You're the best mommy ever!"
Then why doesn't your daddy think so?
I pushed the thought away and hugged her back. "Go get ready, princess. Your friends will be here soon."
I checked my phone again. 10:15 AM. Still nothing from Julian.
I texted him: Lily's party starts at 2. Don't forget.
Three dots appeared immediately. My stomach flipped with stupid, pathetic hope.
In meetings all day. Will try to make it.
Will try. Not "I'll be there." Not "I wouldn't miss it." Just will try, like our daughter's fourth birthday was something he might fit in between conference calls if he had time.
I stared at those three words until they blurred. Five years of marriage, and I was still surprised every time he chose everything else over us. You'd think I'd learn.
The morning blurred past. Parents dropped off excited kids. The penthouse filled with laughter and screaming and chaos. The princess performer showed up and was amazing. Lily glowed with happiness, and I took a thousand pictures because at least I could give her this—proof that someone cared enough to make her day special.
But every few minutes, Lily would look at the door. Waiting. Hoping.
"Is Daddy coming soon?" she whispered to me during the craft activity.
"Soon, baby," I promised, even though it was 3 PM and Julian hadn't sent a single update.
I called him. Voicemail. I texted again. Nothing.
By 3:30, we were ready for cake. All the kids gathered around, and Lily sat at the head of the table in her sparkly crown, looking so happy it made my chest ache. But there was an empty chair beside her. The one she'd saved for her daddy.
"Should we wait for Daddy?" Lily asked quietly, and all the other parents looked at me with pity I'd seen too many times before.
"Let's light the candles," I said brightly, because I was an expert at pretending everything was fine. "Daddy will be here any second."
I lit four pink candles. Everyone sang Happy Birthday. Lily closed her eyes to make her wish, and I knew exactly what she was wishing for because she wished it every year.
I wish Daddy would love us.
She blew out the candles. Everyone cheered. I cut the cake with hands that shook just a little.
That's when the elevator dinged.
Julian was home.
Lily's whole face lit up like Christmas morning. "Daddy!"
She jumped down from her chair and ran toward the elevator. I turned around, relief flooding through me—he made it, he actually made it—
And then I saw her.
Sophie Hart stepped out of the elevator beside my husband. My sister. The woman Julian had been in love with since he was seventeen. She looked perfect in designer clothes and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Julian was laughing at something she'd said, his face more alive than I'd seen in five years of marriage.
He hadn't come home for Lily's birthday.
He'd brought her to it.
"Sorry we're late," Julian said casually, like he hadn't just missed his daughter's entire party. "Sophie happened to be nearby, and I couldn't just leave her on the street."
Sophie's eyes found mine across the room. She smiled wider.
And I realized with sudden, crystal clarity: this wasn't an accident. None of it was an accident.
Lily grabbed Julian's hand, jumping up and down. "Daddy! Did you see my dress? Did you see my cake? Did you—"
"That's a lot of pink," Julian said, barely looking at her. He was already scanning the room, probably calculating how quickly he could leave. "Did Mommy go overboard again?"
Something inside me cracked.
But before I could say anything, Lily tugged on my dress and asked in a voice that carried across the entire silent room:
"Mommy, why does Daddy smile at Aunt Sophie but not at you?"
Every parent in the room froze. Julian's face went red. Sophie's smile turned into something ugly and victorious.
And I looked down at my baby girl's confused, innocent face and felt the last piece of my heart that still believed in Julian Pierce finally shatter into dust.
I opened my mouth to answer.
That's when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out with shaking hands. A text from an unknown number:
Mrs. Pierce, this is Rachel Chen from Hart Holdings. Your father has been trying to reach you for three days. He says it's urgent. It's about your inheritance and your position in the company. He needs you to call him tonight.
I stared at the message. My inheritance. My position.
Julian thought I was nobody. A girl with no family, no power, no worth beyond being his wife and Lily's mother.
Julian was wrong.
And standing in my living room full of pitying parents, watching my husband smile at my sister while our daughter asked why he couldn't smile at me, I made a decision that would change everything.
I looked up at Julian with a smile that felt like ice forming over my heart.
"Lily, baby," I said softly, "why don't you show Aunt Sophie your new toys?"
Lily hesitated, then nodded and pulled Sophie toward her room. The party was clearly over. Parents started gathering their kids, making excuses, thanking me with sympathetic eyes.
Julian finally looked at me. Really looked at me.
"Emma, I can explain—"
"Don't." My voice came out steady. Cold. Nothing like the desperate, hoping voice I'd used for five years. "I need you to sign something."
I walked to my purse and pulled out the envelope I'd been carrying for two days. The one I'd been too afraid to give him until now.
Divorce papers.
I'd already signed my name in elegant script. All that was left was his signature, and our joke of a marriage would finally be over.
Julian's face went white as I handed him the envelope.
"What is this?"
"Your freedom," I said. "Sign them. Because I'm done begging you to love me."
I walked away before he could respond, leaving my husband standing in our princess-themed living room, holding papers that would end everything.
Behind me, I heard him open the envelope.
I heard his sharp intake of breath.
And I didn't look back.
My phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number:
P.S. Your father wanted me to tell you something: The Hart family owns 40% of Pierce Industries. You've always had the power, Emma. It's time you used it.
I smiled for real this time.
Julian had no idea what was coming.
And honestly? I couldn't wait to show him.