Rejected Heiress, Reigning Queen novel Chapter 289

Emma's heart was a chaotic mess of guilt and residual terror. If Carter had been killed tonight because he stepped into a trap meant for her...

She would never have forgiven herself.

Consumed by the sheer gravity of that near-miss, she didn't even realize how dangerously cold her glare had become.

Carter froze, his jaw tightening as he scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't sound like a betrayal of her trust.

"Boss, Emma, the paramedics just loaded Phoebe into the ambulance."

Sensing the sudden, icy drop in temperature, Jeff quickly interjected to change the subject.

Carter gently placed Emma into the back of her car. "I need to stay and manage the fallout with the authorities. Go back to the hotel. I'll see you there."

He closed the door before she could argue. A heavy, hollow ache settled in Emma's chest.

He didn't even want to attempt an explanation.

"Ms. Lockwood, I really believe Carter was just trying to protect you. If you had walked into that warehouse alone tonight, the outcome..."

Chase tried to offer a gentle defense from the front seat. Emma bit her lip. "I'm not mad at him."

She just wanted to understand why he refused to let her carry her own burdens. Why did he insist on taking the bullet for a war that belonged to her?

"Don't go to the hotel. Find a bar."

Her thoughts were completely spiraling, and she honestly couldn't tell if her panic was from the explosion or the terrifying realization of how much Carter's safety meant to her.

When they arrived at an upscale lounge, Emma ordered round after round. Aside from the increasingly hazy look in her eyes, her stoic expression gave absolutely nothing away.

"Emma."

A harsh voice cut through the ambient music. Before she could even lift her head, someone clamped a hand around her wrist.

Tristan yanked her roughly off the barstool. "How the hell can you sit here drinking and having a good time?"

Seeing the aggression, Chase immediately moved in to flank him.

Tristan's eyes were bloodshot as he glared at her. "Mom is lying in a hospital bed in a coma, and you're out partying?"

Emma narrowed her eyes. She pushed Chase out of the way and took a slow, deliberate step toward Tristan.

She stopped inches from his face and jammed a finger hard into his chest.

"I want to know who put her in that bed more than anyone else in the world. I lived in the Lockwood house for seventeen years. I was raised by the exact same parents you were. So tell me, Tristan... are you questioning my basic human decency, or are you questioning our parents' ability to raise a decent human being?"

She stared him down, her eyes radiating nothing but pure, unadulterated contempt for his willful ignorance.

"You haven't been 'Emma Lockwood' for a long time." Tristan swatted her hand away. "Since the day you got back, you've targeted Gillian at every turn. Mom begged you to let it go over and over, and you never showed an ounce of mercy."

Tristan took two steps back, putting physical distance between them. "You are entirely cold-blooded and selfish now. Honestly, there isn't a single depraved thing you could do that would surprise me anymore."

The sheer absurdity of the accusation forced a dark, humorless laugh from Emma's throat. She turned her back to him, taking a deep breath, chanting an internal mantra that he was her brother and not worth the escalation.

She reached out, grabbed her half-finished glass of whiskey, and downed it in a single swallow. She set the glass down with a sharp clack and looked at Chase.

"Throw him out."