The Forbidden Throb Chapter 95

Eve's POV:

"*What?!*"

The word came out louder than I'd intended. I stared at Emma, my mouth slightly open, as the wine glass slipped from my fingers and caught on the edge of the table with a sharp *clink*.

The sound drew glances from nearby tables.

Heat crept up my neck as I realized how my outburst must have looked.

"I'm so sorry," I said quickly, lowering my voice and setting the glass down with exaggerated care. "That was... I didn't mean to react so strongly. "

" It's just—you're so young, and you never mentioned... but that's wonderful news. Really. Congratulations."

"Thank you, and it's okay," Emma said with a smile. "I was actually planning to bring him to meet you today, but something came up, and he couldn't make it."

She held up her left hand, where a delicate platinum band caught the light from the window.

I stared at the obvious ring. *How did I not notice that before?*

"When did this happen?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle, conversational.

Emma's fingers twisted together in her lap. "Very recently, actually. We got married in Portland—my grandmother's town."

"That's lovely," I managed, though my thoughts were racing.

"Is your husband from Portland, too?"

"No, he's... he's from Boston." She looked down at her water glass. "He's a doctor. A cardiac surgeon, actually."

A cardiac surgeon. From Boston. Married recently.

Even as I tried to dismiss it, pieces were clicking together with awful certainty.

Just last week, Luke had sent me a cryptic text: *Did you know Daniel got MARRIED? And he won't let anyone meet her. Very mysterious.*

I'd laughed it off at first, dismissed it as Luke's usual tendency toward hyperbole.

But then, just a few days ago, Luke had called again. His voice had been different this time.

*I met her!* he'd said. *Daniel's wife. He actually got married. And he's in deep,*

Luke had said quietly. *I've known Daniel since we were kids, and I've never seen him like this. The way he looks at her... God, Eve. He's completely gone for her.*

I'd been stunned. Happy for Daniel, certainly, but also bewildered.

Because years ago, I'd accidentally discovered something—Daniel had carried a torch for someone.

So when Luke told me Daniel had gotten married, my first thought had been: *He finally gave up. He's moving on.*

I'd texted Daniel myself, fishing for information: *Luke tells me congratulations are in order. When do I get to meet this mysterious bride who finally captured the uncatchable Daniel Prescott?*

His response had been characteristically evasive: *Soon. When things settle.*

Now, sitting across from Emma, I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

I remembered that first day I met Emma, when she had turned to face me with that bright, eager smile, I'd felt an odd jolt of recognition.

I'd seen that face before—tucked carefully in Daniel's wallet, a photograph worn soft at the edges from being handled too often.

If Emma were Daniel's wife, then there were only two possibilities.

Either Emma was the woman in that photograph. Or Daniel had married her as some kind of replacement.

Both options left me reeling.

Because I *knew* who the woman in that photograph was supposed to be. Two years ago, at a Prescott family foundation event, I'd overheard Nicholas—Daniel's younger brother—talking to a group of friends.

He'd been showing off a photo on his phone, his voice full of easy confidence: *My fiancée. Pretty, right?*

I'd only caught a glimpse over someone's shoulder, but the image had been clear enough.

A young woman with long hair and blue-green eyes, smiling at the camera. And Nicholas stood beside her, looking pleased and proprietary.

It was the same photograph I'd seen in Daniel's wallet.

Except in Daniel's version, Nicholas had been carefully cut out.

The realization had hit me like a physical blow at the time. Daniel was in love with his brother's fiancée.

So what the hell had happened between Nicholas and Daniel?

Either way—whether Emma was the original or a replacement—I was looking at a situation far more complicated and painful than I'd imagined.

And Emma, sitting across from me with that uncertain smile, seemed to have no idea what kind of tangled web she'd walked into.

*Oh God,* I thought, my hands going cold around my water glass.

I took a sip of wine to cover my reaction.

"Eve?" Emma's voice pulled me back. "You look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

I managed a smile, pushing away the tangled thoughts. "Fine. Just... actually, your mention of marriage reminded me of something complex."

Emma's expression shifted to concern. "Speaking of complex—that man who was following you the other day. He hasn't bothered you again, has he?"

I let out a sharp laugh. "This morning, he showed up at my hotel. Actually made it past the lobby before security escorted him out." I took a sip of water, trying to keep my voice light. "And now he's dropped all pretense. Sent me about forty messages demanding twenty thousand dollars."

"*Twenty thousand?*" Emma's eyes went wide with shock. "How—how does he even justify—"

"Oh, he has a story." I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "He gave me a gift early in our relationship? He's now claiming it was a precious family heirloom. Priceless. Says I have to either return it or compensate him for its value."

"Really?" Emma's brow furrowed. "Can he actually prove—"

"Of course not. Because it's complete bullshit." I let out a harsh laugh. "It was a glass figurine. The kind of thing you'd find at any home goods store. Honestly, I'm not even sure where it is anymore. Probably buried in a landfill."

I paused, remembering the moment. "The 'family heirloom' even had the shipping invoice in its plastic case. Amazon. Twenty-nine ninety-five plus tax."

Emma's expression shifted to shock—a flicker of anger on my behalf. "This is extortion."

"Probably." I gave a dry laugh. "The money itself isn't really the issue. But he doesn't deserve that satisfaction."

As I spoke, I noticed Emma's expression had shifted from sympathetic anger to something else.

Something heavier. Her fingers had tightened around her coffee cup, and a small crease had appeared between her brows.

I studied her for a moment, then said lightly, "Don't tell me you're worried about being extorted, too? "

To my surprise, Emma gave a small, tight nod.

"Wait, seriously?" I sat up straighter, my voice rising with genuine surprise.

Daniel might be in love with his brother's fiancée—but he would never stoop to something as crude as extortion, particularly since he wasn't desperate for money.