Why was I still struggling with letting go when nearly a hundred percent of the time it worked out?
Or was it that he really didn’t think I was capable of helping? That made me pause. He’d had no choice this morning because I had to go see Susan, but sending me in here? Was that his way of telling me to leave things to the grownups?
I wanted to choose when to be Little or Middle or whatever the hell I was. I didn’t want it forced on me because I was incapable of being an adult.
Or was all this because deep down I expected him to get sick of me so I was pushing him away before he could do it to me?
Mom and Dad's voices echoed in my head.
Grow up.
Don't be such a baby.
You're such a child.
But was that really so bad? I'd been forced to grow up when I wasstilla child. I saw this time and time again in my job, and just because I came from a rich family didn't make that message any less cruel. I leaned back and hugged Barnaby. I needed to talk to someone, really talk. How could I possibly attempt anysort of relationship when I didn’t really know what I wanted? When I was fighting it all the time? Dion didn’t deserve this, and it wasn’t that I was doubting him.
I was doubtingme.
The vibrating of my phone made me jump. My mother's name flashed on the screen, and my stomach immediately clenched. After everything I'd learned today, the last thing I wanted was another confrontation.
But something in my mother's voice when I answered made me freeze.
"Emily?" She sounded different—not her usual composed, critical self. Her voice was shaking, barely above a whisper. "Emily, I need... I need to see you. Right away."
"Mom, what's wrong?" I sat up straighter, Barnaby still clutched in my free arm.
"I can't talk on the phone. Please, Emily. I'm at the Riverside Café on Fifth Street. I need to explain about... about what I've done." Her voice broke completely. "About what they made me do."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Mom, are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"Just come. Please. And Emily... don't tell anyone where you're going. They're watching. They're watching everything. If someone follows you—"
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone, my mind racing. My mother had sounded genuinely terrified—not the controlled, manipulative woman I knew, but someone who was truly afraid. The way she'd said "what they made me do" sent chills down my spine.
From the study, I could still hear Dion's voice, intense and focused as he coordinated with his team. They were planning their next moves, working to save Zoe. I didn't want to interrupt that with what might be another manipulation from my mother.
But what if it wasn't? What if she was in real danger?
I stood up knowing if I breathed a word of my mother’s call, Dion would forbid me to go.
Like a child.
Maybe it was time to prove I was a grownup?
But how on earth did I get out without him knowing? I knew I had my car here somewhere, but I’d never even been in the garage.
The garage was probably accessible through the kitchen, but that would take me right past Dion's study. I needed another way out.
I crept to the window and peered outside. The driveway curved around to what looked like a three-car garage attached to the side of the house. If I could get outside without Dion noticing, I might be able to access it from there.
First, I needed my keys. I rummaged through my purse, relief washing over me when I found them nestled at the bottom, and realized Dion must have put them back there. Which gave me pause. He hadn't meant to keep me a prisoner.
Deciding to think about that later I grabbed my phone and jacket, hesitating only briefly before setting Barnaby on the chair.
"I'll be back soon," I whispered, feeling ridiculous for talking to a stuffed bear but needing the reassurance anyway.
