Emmett Loses Alanna's Heart

The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow over our formal dining room, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. Father had arranged this family dinner to discuss wedding preparations, but I could feel the tension crackling beneath the polite conversation. Kendrick had been unable to attend due to a business emergency, leaving me to face the evening alone.

I took a sip of my wine, trying to focus on Father's discussion of venue options rather than the way Bailey's eyes kept darting toward me from across the table. She sat beside Emmett, her hand resting possessively on his arm. The diamond on her finger caught the light—a smaller stone than the one I'd once worn.

"More wine, Alanna?" Elena, Bailey's mother, offered the bottle with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"No, thank you," I replied, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my stomach.

Bailey's lips curved into a smile as she leaned forward. "Emmett was just telling me about your little tradition of exchanging gifts," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "How romantic."

I met her gaze evenly. "Some traditions are meant to be kept between those who share them."

"Oh, but I know all about your traditions now." Bailey's smile widened as she glanced at Emmett. "Don't I, darling?"

Emmett shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes avoiding mine. "Bailey, perhaps this isn't the time—"

"Why not?" She turned to face me fully, her eyes glittering with malice. "I think Alanna should know how thoroughly I've been initiated into your special little world."

I felt Father tense beside me, but I placed a hand on his arm, silently requesting he allow me to handle this.

"Tell me, Alanna," Bailey continued, leaning closer, "did Emmett ever make you feel the way he made me feel that night? The way he called out my name when he—"

"Enough." My voice cut through the room like ice.

But Bailey wasn't finished. "He was so passionate," she continued, her voice dropping to a deliberate whisper that everyone could still hear. "The things he whispered to me, the way he held me... I can see why you waited five years. He's quite... talented."

The room fell silent. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, waiting for my reaction. Emmett's face had gone pale, his hands gripping his water glass so tightly I feared it might shatter.

I rose slowly from my seat, reaching for my wine glass with deliberate calm. The conversation around the table died as I walked toward Bailey, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

"You want to know something, Bailey?" I asked softly.

She smirked, clearly believing she'd won this round. "I already know everything that matters."

I stopped directly in front of her, my posture perfect despite the storm raging inside me. Then, with one fluid motion, I tipped my glass and poured the deep red wine directly onto her face.

The liquid cascaded down her features, staining her blonde hair and dripping onto her cream-colored dress. She gasped, her hands flying to her face in shock.

"Remember your place in this family, Bailey," I said, my voice cold and controlled as I placed the empty glass on the table beside her. "Some things should never be yours to claim."

For a moment, Bailey sat frozen, wine dripping from her chin onto her plate. Then she let out a shriek that pierced the air.

"You psychotic bitch!" She jumped to her feet, wine splattering across the tablecloth. "How dare you!"

Before anyone could react, Emmett was on his feet, pulling Bailey away from the table. "It's okay," he murmured, grabbing a napkin to dab at her face. "Let me help you clean up."

I stood perfectly still as he guided her toward the kitchen, his arm protectively around her shoulders. The tenderness in his movements was unmistakable—the same tenderness he'd once shown me.

"Alanna!" Father's voice was sharp with concern. "What has gotten into you?"

I turned to face him, my composure still intact despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I believe I've made my point quite clear."

From the doorway, I could see Emmett gently cleaning wine from Bailey's hair, his touch careful and considerate. The sight sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest.

"She doesn't deserve your defense," I said quietly, knowing he could hear me.

Emmett looked up, his eyes meeting mine across the room. "She needs me," he replied simply.

Three words. Three simple words that confirmed what I'd feared all along—he had chosen Bailey not out of love, but out of some misguided sense of honor.

As Bailey leaned into his touch, her eyes found mine over his shoulder. Despite the wine staining her face, her expression held triumph.

She had won this battle, but the war was far from over.