Chapter 7

When Frank heard Emma say that, a strange heaviness settled over him. It was an inexplicable mix of restlessness and irritation. Yet his feelings for Lea were clear. Emma didn't press further, and he should have felt relieved. Instead, a strange discomfort lingered. Shoving those emotions aside, Frank kept his voice cold. "Tomorrow, you're coming with me to a cocktail party." With that, he walked out of her room. Emma stood there, suddenly drained. Her gaze dropped to the burn scar on her arm. Before, Frank would've rushed out to buy medicine and tended to it himself without hesitation. She tried to suppress it, but the longing for his affection overwhelmed her with a wild, insatiable ache she couldn't resist. … The next day, Emma arrived at the company on time. Courtney Blake, the HR director, happened to pass by and waved. "Ms. Dyer, your resignation has been approved. All that's left is to submit it to Mr. Castro." Emma instinctively opened her laptop, only to find her resignation email still marked "sent". A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. Frank hadn't even bothered to check it. Forcing a smile, she said, "Mr. Blake, don't send the resignation to Mr. Castro just yet. I'd like to speak with him myself." Charlie's gaze swept over her briefly, and he nodded with understanding. "Sure. I'll leave the file here. You can take it to him yourself for signing." Emma agreed, and shortly after, Frank's assistant sent her the location of tonight's reception. She hadn't dressed as formally as usual today. Beneath her black blazer, she wore a striking red gown—one Frank had once custom-made for her back when he had insisted she dress appropriately for such events. It was the only piece like it in her wardrobe. She gathered her things and headed downstairs, about to hail a cab when a Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up in front of her. She didn't need to see the license plate to know whose it was. The passenger-side window rolled down, revealing Lea's smiling face. "Emma! What a coincidence," Lea said cheerfully, waving at her. "Where are you headed? Frank and I can give you a lift." Emma glanced at Frank. He sat there, unmoving, completely ignoring her. "No, thank you. I'll take a cab." Lea pouted. "Are you still upset about yesterday? Frank already took me to the doctor, and it won't even scar. Let's just put it behind us. Come on. Get in. Frank, say something!" She turned to Frank with a radiant smile, playfully tugging at his arm. Only then did he glance over, his gaze landing on Emma. Perhaps recognizing the gown she wore, he frowned. His throat tightened, and his voice dropped low with a hint of warning. "Get in." Emma trembled as she met his stare, catching the unmistakable caution in his eyes. He was telling her not to make a scene. Lea, still smiling, added, "Emma, come on. Hop in." Emma forced a smile, hiding the sting in her chest. She moved to the back seat and opened the door, only to find it cluttered with women's clothes, makeup, and high heels—barely leaving room for her. Enmma's gaze sharpened. If there was no space for her, why insist she join them? Lea unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to clear a spot. "Emma, sorry, my stuff is everywhere. Let me tidy up—" "Lea, sit down. It's dangerous," Frank interrupted from the driver's seat. He reached over, gripping her waist, and gently pushed her back into her seat. Lea giggled, casting him a shy, teasing look. "Frank, Emma's still here." The meaning was clear. He didn't respond to her comment. Instead, he glanced back at Emma. "Sort it out yourself and find somewhere to sit. We're running late for the cocktail party. Don't hold us up." Emma swallowed hard, forcing down the sting in her throat. With no choice, she silently shoved some things aside and squeezed into a small space. Up front, Lea propped her legs on the dashboard, her slit dress revealing smooth, pale thighs that drew the eye effortlessly. She giggled, picking up a piece of fruit and holding it to Frank's lips. He accepted it without hesitation, unbothered by the smear of her lipstick on the fork. The two carried on, flaunting their affection as if Emma weren't there. She sat in the back, feeling like a stranger intruding on their world, her discomfort sharp and unrelenting. She was setting herself up for heartbreak—lifting her hopes only to have them shattered again. She recalled a time when she and Frank had argued. For three days, he had given her the cold shoulder, ignoring her apologies with icy indifference. Desperate, she had turned to Thea for help. Thea then ordered Frank to drive Emma to work, and though he had complied under pressure, he barely spoke a word the entire ride. Still, being near him and sharing the same space had been enough to make her happy. After work that day, she realized she had left something in his car. She waited at home for hours until he returned, eager to retrieve it. But when she approached him, his response was curt and final. "I threw it out." That moment had nearly suffocated her. A single forgotten item had been too much for his fastidiousness, and he had discarded it without a second thought. Yet now, with Lea's chaos strewn across the car, his expression softened with indulgence. It all came down to one truth—he loved Lea too much. After years of waiting, his long-lost first love had returned. How could he not be overjoyed? The ride to the reception passed in silence. Only when they arrived did Lea turn back, flashing Emma a wink. "Emma, could you grab my heels for me? Thanks." Frank had just turned off the engine. His gaze flicked toward Lea's ankle, remembering how she had winced when he applied ointment to her burn earlier. Without hesitation, he stepped out. "No need. I'll put them on for you." Emma's hand froze mid-reach for the shoes. As Frank opened the back door, she fought the urge to hurl them at his face. His expression was unreadable, his eyes devoid of warmth when they met hers. Taking the heels from her grasp, he moved to the passenger side, knelt on one knee, and slipped them onto Lea's feet. Lea's face glowed with a shy, sweet smile. "Frank, Emma just handled that PR mess for us. Don't let the paparazzi catch this." "They won't," he replied coolly. "Emma will take care of it." Emma paused mid-step as she exited the car, a flicker of irony crossing her face, but it was too subtle for them to notice.