The house in Maine was exactly what Emma needed—a sprawling coastal cottage on a private island accessible only by boat, surrounded by pine trees and the sound of waves. No paparazzi, no media, no one except Alexander and the caretaker who came twice a week to deliver groceries.
For the first three days, Emma slept. Eighteen, twenty hours a day, her body finally releasing the tension it had been holding for weeks. Alexander stayed close, working remotely from the study, checking on her constantly.
On the fourth day, Emma woke feeling almost human.
She found Alexander on the deck, coffee in hand, staring out at the Atlantic. The morning sun painted everything gold, and for a moment, Emma could almost forget the chaos they'd left behind.
"How are you feeling?" Alexander asked, pulling her into his lap.
"Better. Rested." Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Have you heard anything from New York?"
