Chapter 156

Emily

The hospital room is quiet except for the faint beeping of monitors and the low rustle of papers as Logan shuffles through hospital forms. He’s scribbling notes, signing documents, and trying to manage my postpartum recovery schedule with the meticulous precision that’s always defined him.

I watch him from the bed, Peter swaddled beside me in a small bassinet, the soft rise and fall of his chest soothing in its simplicity.

I should be helping, checking the forms, asking questions, but my mind keeps drifting back to that strange vision I had earlier — the one where I saw a younger Logan with his parents. The way it lingered in my chest, tight and insistent, makes my fingers itch for something tangible, something to hold onto that might ground me.

Without thinking, I reach for my mother’s locket, cold metal pressing into my palm. I close my eyes and cradle it against my chest. The instant it touches me, the hospital room disappears. The hum of machines, the sterile scent, the soft shuffling of Logan’s papers…it’s all gone.

When I open my eyes again, I’m looking up at someone else entirely.

I’m small again, no more than eight years old. My hands are tiny, reaching up instinctively to clutch at something I can’t name. Above me stands Hannah, my father’s new wife, her presence suffocating in its confidence and ease. She’s smiling but there’s a sharpness behind it, a sense that every word is calculated.

“You’re too dumb to understand,” she says, her tone casual, almost cruel. “Too dumb to grasp the complexities of the pack. You don’t speak, and maybe that’s for the best.”

I swallow hard, my throat tight, unsure if I can move or if I even want to. Fear curls in my stomach, the familiar knot I remember from childhood when her words always cut deeper than they should. I want to speak, to defend myself, but the words stick, powerless on my tongue.

Her eyes glint, and she leans a little closer, voice lowering so that it feels like a secret shared between predator and prey.

“Your father and I? We’ve been making arrangements. Shifting money. Nobody checks the contingency funds. Nobody ever will.”

The words hit me like ice water. I can feel them seep into my bones, into the part of me that has always been small and cautious. There’s a surge of something else, something electric. It’s like a door opening inside me, the same pull I felt with Logan’s ring, that strange thread connecting me to powers and knowledge beyond what my childhood self could have imagined.

I want to look away, to run, but my body freezes. I can feel the weight of the knowledge pressing down, and for the first time, fear mingles with clarity. I see the cracks, the lies, the schemes that have underpinned the people around me for so long. And in that moment, I understand something profound: this knowledge, this glimpse into their secrets, is not just information but liberation.

The scene shimmers, destabilizes, and then I’m back in the hospital. Peter softly stirs in the bassinet. Logan is still bent over his paperwork, unaware of the storm of revelation that has passed through me. The locket is still in my hand, warm now from my touch.

I take a deep breath, letting the adrenaline die and the weight of possibility settle.

My father. Hannah. Their schemes. The contingency funds. Everything I’ve suspected for years suddenly clicks into place, a map of deceit laid bare.

I feel the first taste of freedom I’ve had in my life. The knowledge that I can act, that I can protect myself, that I can finally move beyond the constraints of my family.

I don’t speak immediately. I just sit there, eyes closed briefly, letting the surge of clarity and power roll through me. Then, finally, I open my eyes and look toward the door, toward the figure I trust above all others beside Logan.

“Tony,” I say quietly, my voice steady, almost commanding. “I need you to investigate something for me.”

“Of course,” he says carefully. He turns, surprised by the sudden urgency in my tone. “What is it?”

I lift the locket in my hand, the metal glinting in the hospital light.

“My father and Hannah,” I begin, choosing each word with precision. “There are…schemes. Money being moved, contingency funds being hidden. I need you to look into it and confirm for me if it’s true. And if it is…” My words hang, unfinished but heavy with implication.

“I’ll get on it right away,” Tony nods slowly, understanding the gravity of what I’m asking. “Whatever you need, Emily.”

I feel a shiver run through me, a mixture of fear and anticipation. The hospital room is quiet again, the monitors ticking softly, Peter cooing in his sleep, Logan still absorbed in his work. But I know that nothing here is the same as it was before. I hold the locket to my chest again, feeling the pulse of power that connected me to that younger version of myself, to the hidden truths I never could have faced as a child.

The knowledge is intoxicating, terrifying, and freeing all at once. I realize that the family I once feared, the people whose decisions dictated so much of my life, are no longer untouchable. I have leverage now. I have insight. I have the ability to take control.

My eyes meet Logan’s briefly, and he looks up from his paperwork, catching the intensity in my gaze. I smile softly, small but full of conviction.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, feeling the first spark of real confidence in years.

Tony gives me a reassuring nod, and I know the investigation will begin immediately. The sense of possibility fills me, steadies me, and I allow myself to lean back against the pillow, letting the weight of the locket and its revelations sink in fully. I feel powerful in a way I never have before—not just because of what I’ve seen, but because of what I’m capable of doing with it.

Peter stirs again, tiny fingers curling around the soft blanket in his bassinet, and I watch him carefully, marveling at the fragility and strength of life all at once. This newfound knowledge is not just a weapon—it’s a shield for him, for Logan, for myself. I will protect them, and I now have the tools to ensure that our future is secure, no matter what my father or Hannah might attempt.

I close my eyes for a moment, imagining the young Emily of eight, sitting frozen, terrified, powerless as Hannah’s words cut through her innocence. The contrast is staggering. Then I open my eyes again and smile, faint but resolute. That little girl doesn’t have to be me anymore. She never will be.

The power of the vision lingers, a thread weaving through the present, connecting past, present, and future. And I know, with unshakable certainty, that the first steps toward freeing myself from my family’s control begin now. I may be postpartum, exhausted, and still adjusting to a new life as a mother, but I am no longer the small, silent child who could only watch and endure. I am Emily—awake, aware, and ready.

Tony leans slightly closer, asking if I’m certain of what I want him to do. I nod, feeling the locket’s weight in my hand, a symbol of power, knowledge, and agency.

“Investigate,” I repeat. “Confirm everything. And keep me informed. I want to know the truth.”

“It’ll be done,” he promises. He nods, firm and unwavering.

I glance toward Logan, who is still absorbed in his papers, and I feel a deep sense of calm wash over me. For the first time in a long while, I feel like I have a foothold, a sense of control. The hospital room, the monitors, the faint scent of antiseptic—all of it grounds me in reality even as the vision’s power courses through me.

I tuck the locket beneath my hand again, feeling its reassuring weight, and I allow myself a small, private smile. Whatever comes next, I will face it head-on. I have the knowledge, I have the strength, and now, finally, I have the courage to act.

And with that, the first step toward reclaiming my life — and protecting the people I love — has begun.