Chapter 89

Emily Smith stood before the glass partition in the prison visitation room, her fingertips trembling slightly.

She remembered how, at ten years old, she had bitten her lip hard to hold back tears when her mother walked away without looking back. But now, the tears fell uncontrollably, like beads from a broken string.

"Emily..."

Henry Johnson pressed his rough palm against the glass, his eyes red-rimmed. His voice cracked. "I failed you. I made you carry this family alone. You've done more than enough all these years."

Emily took a deep breath, her nails digging into her palms.

"Dad," she whispered, her voice feather-light. "Lily was in a car accident. The doctors said... she might not wake up."

The man on the other side of the glass froze, the color draining from his face.

"And Grandma..." Emily's throat tightened. "She had a heart attack. They couldn't save her."

A loud clatter echoed as Henry stumbled against the chair. He covered his face, his shoulders shaking violently.

"It's all my fault..." Emily's tears splashed onto the back of her hand. "If only I hadn't let her go out alone that day—"

"No!" Henry jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto his daughter. "This is my sin to bear..."

As the visitation time neared its end, Henry suddenly grabbed the receiver. "That boss who lent you money—who is he?"

Emily hesitated, then forced a weak smile. "He's from a legitimate company. Don't worry."

Stepping out of the prison gates, the harsh summer sunlight blinded her. Her phone buzzed—a message from Mia Harris, inviting her to go shopping.

The mall's air conditioning was icy. Emily stood in the lingerie section as a sales assistant measured her with a soft tape.

"70D," the assistant announced.

Mia's shriek nearly shattered the ceiling.

"Emily Smith!" Mia yanked at the loose hem of Emily's T-shirt. "You've been hiding this bombshell figure!"

Emily swatted her hand away, her ears burning crimson.

"Spill it," Mia whispered hotly against her ear. "Is there a man?"

"Stop it!" Emily fumbled to cover Mia's mouth.

Mia dodged, her eyes gleaming. "How is he? Does he know how to—"

"Shut up!"

"Boyfriend? Hmph..."

A voice colder than ice cut through the air. Emily stiffened and slowly turned.

The mall lights were too bright. Squinting, she saw William Johnson leaning against the boutique entrance, a mocking curve on his lips. His tailored suit made him look out of place—like a deity who had strayed into the mortal world.

Mia gasped, her fingers tightening around Emily's arm.