Emma's POV
I was unlocking my apartment door when my phone rang for the thirty-seventh time.
Julian. Again.
I silenced it and pushed the door open. Stepped inside. Closed it behind me. And finally—FINALLY—I could breathe.
This was my space. The place I'd kept secret for three years. My studio, my sanctuary, my proof that I was more than just Julian Pierce's invisible wife.
My phone buzzed. A voicemail. Then another. Then a text. Then five more texts.
I turned the phone completely off.
The silence felt like heaven.
I walked to my design table—the one covered in sketches and fabric samples and paint chips. This was where E. Hart lived. Where Emma, the designer that even Julian admired without knowing, created magic.
I ran my fingers over my latest project. A children's hospital playroom. I'd designed it to feel like a forest, with trees painted on the walls and soft lights that looked like fireflies. Kids who were sick and scared would play there and feel safe.
Julian had never asked to see my work. Not once in five years.
My phone vibrated even though it was off. I looked at the screen through the power-down animation. Forty-three missed calls. Twenty-six texts. Six voicemails.
I plugged it in and left it face-down on the counter. Whatever crisis Julian was having could wait. He'd made me wait five years. He could wait a few hours.
I had to pick up Lily in two hours. I needed to figure out what to tell my baby girl about why Daddy wasn't coming home.
I made tea and sat by the window. Brooklyn looked different from here. Quieter. Real. Not like the Manhattan penthouse that always felt like a museum I wasn't supposed to touch.
My hands were finally steady when my phone buzzed again. But this time it wasn't Julian.
Mrs. Pierce, this is Casey Martin from your husband's office. Please call me immediately. It's urgent. It's about your daughter's safety.
Ice flooded my veins.
I grabbed my phone and called back. Casey answered on the first ring.
"Mrs. Pierce, thank God. Where are you? Where's Lily?"
"Lily's at preschool. I'm picking her up at three. What's going on?"
"You need to get her NOW. Right now. Don't wait." Casey's voice was shaking. "It's Sophie Hart. She's been—Mrs. Pierce, she's dangerous. I have proof she's been staging things to break up your marriage. And I heard her on the phone today talking about Lily. About how 'that brat won't be a problem much longer.'"
My heart stopped. "What?"
"She's been following you. Following Lily. I saw her outside the preschool last week. And today, Mr. Pierce's penthouse was broken into. Someone left a threatening message and—"
"I'm getting my daughter. Now." I was already grabbing my keys, my purse. "Did you call the police?"
"Mr. Pierce is handling that. But Mrs. Pierce, you should know—Sophie has been obsessed with your husband since they were teenagers. And from what I've overheard, she blames you and Lily for 'ruining her chance' with him. She's not stable."
I ran down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Please let Lily be okay. Please.
I called the preschool while running to my car. "This is Emma Hart. I'm coming to get Lily Pierce early. Family emergency. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Oh, Mrs. Hart? Actually, someone already picked her up about twenty minutes ago."
The world stopped.
"What? Who?"
"Her aunt? Sophie Hart? She said you'd called and asked her to pick Lily up because of an emergency. She had proper ID and everything. She's on your approved pickup list, so we—"
I dropped my phone. Didn't even hear it hit the ground.
Sophie had my daughter.
Sophie—who blamed Lily for "ruining her chance" with Julian. Sophie—who'd been stalking us. Sophie—who'd left threatening messages.
I bent down and grabbed my phone with shaking hands. Called Julian. It rang once.
"Emma, thank God. Where are you? Where's Lily? Sophie broke into the penthouse and—"
"She has her." My voice didn't sound like mine. "Sophie picked Lily up from preschool twenty minutes ago. She pretended I sent her."
Julian made a sound like he'd been punched. "No. No, no, no—"
"I'm calling 911." I was in my car now, pulling out of the parking spot too fast, not caring. "Meet me at the preschool. We'll figure out where she took her."
"Emma, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I should have seen—"
"We don't have time for sorry!" I was screaming now, crying, barely able to see the road. "Our daughter is with a crazy person who wants to hurt her! FIND HER!"
I hung up and called 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My daughter's been taken. Four years old, brown hair, amber eyes, last seen wearing a pink dress. Her name is Lily Pierce and she was taken from Little Stars Preschool in Manhattan by Sophie Hart who—"
My phone beeped. Another call coming in. Unknown number.
"Hold on," I told the operator and switched calls. "Hello?"
"Hello, Emma." Sophie's voice was sweet as poisoned honey. "I have something that belongs to you."
I heard Lily crying in the background. "MOMMY!"
"LILY! Sophie, if you hurt her I swear—"
"You took everything from me," Sophie said. Her voice wasn't sweet anymore. It was cold. Dead. "You married the man I loved. You had his baby. You ruined EVERYTHING. So now I'm going to ruin you."
"Please, she's just a little girl. She didn't do anything—"
"She EXISTED. That's what she did. She's proof that Julian chose you over me. Even by accident, even while drunk, he still chose YOU." Sophie laughed, but it sounded wrong. Broken. "But don't worry, Emma. I'm going to fix that mistake. I'm going to erase her, just like you erased my future."
"SOPHIE, PLEASE—"
The line went dead.
I screamed and threw my phone. Then I grabbed it again and switched back to 911.
"She called me. The kidnapper called me. She has my daughter and she's going to hurt her. YOU HAVE TO FIND HER!"
I gave them Sophie's name, her phone number, everything I knew while driving like a maniac toward the preschool.
My phone rang again. Julian.
"The police are tracking her phone," he said. His voice was pure panic. "I'm in my car. Where are you?"
"Almost at the preschool. Julian, she said—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't say the words out loud.
"I know. Casey told me everything. Emma, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I should have—"
My phone beeped. A text from Sophie's number.
A photo.
Lily, strapped into a car seat, crying.
And one sentence: Say goodbye to Mommy, sweetheart. We're going on a very long trip.