The Forbidden Throb Chapter 98

Emma's POV:

The highway stretched ahead as Daniel's car hummed smoothly toward Boston.

The brief afternoon visit with Grandma already felt like a distant memory.

Her Victorian house and the Portland coastline had disappeared behind us an hour ago, swallowed by the gray November afternoon.

I stared out the window at first, watching the beautiful scenery, but my gaze kept drifting sideways.

To Daniel.

His hands rested steady on the steering wheel. The platinum wedding band on his left ring finger caught the afternoon light, glinting softly as he adjusted our speed.

Then my gaze drifted upward to his profile. The clean line of his jaw, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the way his dark hair fell just slightly across his forehead.

The afternoon light streaming through the windshield caught the edge of his face, turning him into something out of a classical painting—all refined angles and quiet strength.

*Maybe,* I thought suddenly, *I need to stop waiting for things to happen to me.*

The realization settled in my chest like a warm weight.

"First come, first served," as the old saying went.

I bit my lower lip, a plan beginning to form.

Daniel had been nothing but careful with me. Respectful. Maintaining boundaries I wasn't even sure I wanted anymore.

Time I stopped analyzing every gesture and started... *acting*.

My phone buzzed insistently in my lap, breaking my train of thought.

I blinked, pulled back to reality, and unlocked the screen.

**Lily Madison:** *Hey Emma! Hope Portland was amazing! Just wanted to give you a heads up—your Instagram Story got shared to the BU Confessions forum. Thought you should know!*

My stomach dropped.

"Everything okay?" Daniel's voice cut through the sudden ringing in my ears.

I looked up. His eyes remained on the road.

"Fine," I said automatically. "Just... a message from a classmate."

I opened Instagram with trembling fingers. The Story I'd posted yesterday—six photos documenting the Portland trip—had seemed harmless at the time.

The harbor at sunset. The violin exhibition. That gorgeous lobster dinner at The Lobster Shack. The suite's window view at Hampton Inn.

And one photo—just one—where you could see a reflection in the glass.

A man's silhouette. Dark sweater. Tall frame.

My throat constricted.

I switched to the BU Confessions forum, and there it was: my screenshots, reposted for everyone to dissect.

*"Isn't this Emma Johnson from the journalism program? Didn't know she was a secret heiress lol"*

*"That restaurant looks expensive af. And Hampton Inn oceanview suite? Girl's got MONEY"*

*"Wait, who's the mystery man in the reflection? "*

*"Moving on fast. Good for her I guess."*

My hands went cold.

Another message from Lily appeared: *Don't worry too much, Emma! Everyone's just curious. *

*I was just documenting my trip,* I thought, a mix of bewilderment and frustration rising in my chest. *I didn't think posting a few photos would turn into... this.*

I took a breath and reminded myself of the simple truth: *I'm not a celebrity.*

I didn't owe these people explanations.

My thumb moved quickly, deliberately. I blocked the accounts making crude suggestions and logged out entirely.

---

Daniel dropped me off near Commonwealth Avenue as dusk settled over campus.

Professor Laurent had sent three emails while I was gone—reminders about graduation materials, thesis deadlines, and final portfolio submissions. Daniel had patients waiting at Mass General.

We'd said a quick goodbye before he drove off toward the hospital.

I was still lost in thought when Olivia appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my arm.

"Emma! Finally! Come on, we need to go to Marciano Commons right now."

"What? Why?"

"Trust me. Major tea."

I barely had time to drop my bag in our room before she was pulling me across campus toward the dining hall. We grabbed salads and sandwiches, settling into a corner booth near the windows.

"So what's this about?" I asked, spearing a cherry tomato.

Olivia's eyes gleamed. "Listen."

At the table beside us, two business school guys were deep in animated conversation. The heavier one leaned forward, voice low but audible.

"I'm telling you, the SEC investigation is just the beginning. They found systematic fraud at that tech company—NovaTech. Every quarterly report was fabricated."

The taller one nodded enthusiastically. "Dude deserved it. All that VC money, and it was just fake growth the whole time. FBI's involved now."

"And that's not even the worst part. Guy was a complete tyrant—no Thanksgiving off, Christmas overtime for fake project deadlines."

"I heard he made male employees run personal errands. Female employees had to go to client dinners with him."

My stomach turned.

Robert Williams—my stepfather. His company. The one he'd been so proud of, the one that justified his condescending attitude toward everyone he deemed beneath him.

Olivia and I locked eyes across the table.

Her face had gone slightly pink. "Emma, I... I didn't realize—"

"It's fine," I said quickly.

*Thick skin, big ego, and you can fool everyone,* I thought, echoing Olivia's earlier words.

We finished our meal in uncomfortable silence.

---

By the time we left the dining hall, twilight had deepened into full darkness.

The campus paths were lit by old-fashioned lampposts, casting long shadows across the brick walkways. We were almost at Warren Towers when I spotted a familiar figure standing beneath the trees near the entrance.

Just a glimpse of that well-dressed silhouette and my body recognized her before my mind did.

I didn't hesitate.

Didn't pause to think.

My hand shot out and grabbed Olivia's wrist. "Come on."

I turned on my heel and headed toward the back entrance, pulling her with me.

"Emma, what—"

"Just follow me."

We cut through the dense grove of trees that bordered the building, our footsteps muffled by fallen leaves. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to look back, refusing to give that figure the satisfaction of knowing I'd seen her.

I swiped my ID card at the rear entrance with slightly trembling fingers. The lock clicked. We slipped inside.

Only when the door shut firmly behind us did Olivia speak.

"Emma, what the hell just happened?"

I stared at the elevator buttons, my jaw tight. Then I said it—flat, emotionless:

"It's my mother."