Emma’s POV:

“Oh! You’re… you’re Daniel Prescott,” Olivia stammered, clearly thrown off balance.

Her gaze darted between him and me, confusion written across her features.

“I thought—I mean, I was expecting Nicholas would be the one bringing her back.”

I fumbled with the door handle, my fingers still clumsy from the alcohol.

Daniel leaned across me and gently pushed the door open, his arm briefly brushing against mine.

He explained to Olivia. “I happened to run into Emma. She’s had a bit too much to drink,” he explained to Olivia, his voice calm and professional. “I thought she could use some assistance getting home safely.”

Olivia clearly processed the unexpected scene before her.

“Thank you for bringing her back,” she said finally, extending her arm to help me from the car. “I can take it from here.”

As I stumbled out, Daniel reached into the backseat and retrieved a small paper bag.

“Make sure she drinks plenty of water,” he instructed, handing the bag to Olivia. “And there’s some ginger tea and electrolyte tablets in here. They should help with the after-effects.”

My head lolled against Olivia’s shoulder, my hair falling across my face. I tried to stand straighter, but only succeeded in making us both wobble dangerously.

“I will,” Olivia promised, supporting my weight against her side. “Come on, Em. Let’s get you upstairs.”

As Olivia guided me toward the building entrance, I heard the quiet purr of his BMW pulling away.

“So,” Olivia began once we were safely in the elevator, “that was Daniel Prescott? The cold, heartless brother Nicholas is always complaining with?”

She looked genuinely confused. “Not exactly matching the villain description.”

I gripped the elevator railing, focusing all my concentration on remaining upright as the small space seemed to sway around me. The floor numbers blurred together as we ascended.

“Mmm,” I managed, closing my eyes briefly to combat the spinning sensation.

“Thank god I only had… what, one drinks? ” I swallowed hard, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to rise. “Could’ve been worse.”

Olivia looked at me expectantly, waiting for some explanation about Daniel that I was in no condition to provide. I stared at the ceiling, counting the panels to distract myself from the uncomfortable churning in my stomach.

“Em?” she prompted. “You’re not making sense.”

“Later,” I mumbled, the word slurring slightly at the edges. “Can’t… thoughts… not working right now.”

The elevator dinged, and I jolted at the sharp sound.

Olivia sighed, clearly realizing she wouldn’t get coherent answers from me tonight, and tightened her supportive grip around my waist as the doors slid open.

By the time we reached our room, exhaustion had claimed every cell in my body. I collapsed onto my bed fully dressed, including Daniel’s jacket that I still wore.

“At least you’re a dignified drunk,” I heard Olivia comment as she placed a glass of water on my nightstand. “No crying or singing or throwing up. Points for that.”

I wanted to respond, but darkness was already pulling me under, the events of the night fading into blessed unconsciousness.

Morning arrived with brutal efficiency.

Sunlight streamed through our half-closed blinds, landing directly across my face.

“If you say so.” Olivia’s tone made it clear she wasn’t convinced. “But for what it’s worth, I think you got the wrong Prescott brother. That man radiates reliability. Nicholas, on the other hand…” She trailed off with a dismissive wave.

I sighed, unable to deny the truth in her words.

“You’ve always been better at reading people than me.”

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at my admission. She set her laptop aside, giving me her full attention.

“Speaking of unusual behavior,” she said, studying me carefully, “why were you drinking alone at The Crimson Lounge? I’ve been trying to get you to come out for drinks all semester, and you always have some excuse about studying or early classes.”

I stared into my mug of ginger tea, watching the liquid swirl as I considered how much to reveal.

The events of last night felt both raw and distant, like a wound I wasn’t ready to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore.

“I…” I began, then faltered. The words stuck in my throat. “I needed to clear my head.”

“At the bottom of a cocktail glass?” Olivia pressed, her expression softening. “That’s not like you, Em.”

After a long moment, I took a deep breath.

“Nicholas is cheating on me,” I said flatly.

Olivia had just taken a sip of her coffee. At my words, her eyes went wide, and she sprayed liquid across her desk, coughing violently.

“He WHAT?” she sputtered, frantically grabbing tissues to mop up the mess. “That absolute idiot! He has YOU, and he’s cheating? Is his brain screwed up?”