Chapter One Hundred And Thirteen

Chapter 113

“But what if Alan was meant to be?” The sharp voice of her sister, Ava caused Jemima to turn her head abruptly in that direction.

“How long have you been standing there and where are the kids?” Jemima asked, choosing instead to ignore the words of her sister.

“The kids are safely asleep and I’ve been standing here long enough to know that Alan is madly in love with you. I mean, he killed his father for you!” Ava pointed out as she walked over to go and meet Jemima before grunting softly as she sat down beside her.

They said nothing to each other for a moment until Ava spoke up again, “What if…”

Jemima cut her short abruptly, “There is no what if, Ava. Alan and I were never meant to be.”

Ava chuckled softly, “Then why are your cheeks all flustered? Why did you get all defensive at the mere thought of me bringing up Alan hmm?” Ava prodded, nudging Jemima a little with her elbows.

“I love Jay!” Jemima simply responded.

“Well, that’s not a crime but does Jay know that?” Ava inquired softly as she stared at Jemima who opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Truly, she had never outrightly told Jay she loved him.

“What do I do Ava? I may not hate Alan anymore but I want Jay, I can’t bear to lose him,” Jemima turned to her sister as she pleaded, grabbing Ava’s hand in hers.

“I can’t tell you what to do Jem. You’ve already been through so much. The entire incident with Jemma, what you had to endure as a child that I’m to blame, Marcus abandoning us, God Jem but you overcame all of them. And it’s just like how you used to say, what doesn’t kill you leaves you stronger…”

Jemima smiled but it did not reach her eyes. “No, what doesn’t kill you is like wood glue,” she breathed out the words that Jay had once told her. A longing feeling enveloped her.

“Huh?”

As Jemima opened her mouth to speak, Jay came into the kitchen to join them.

“Hey Ava. Hey my love,” Jay greeted, walking up to Jemima and planting a soft kiss on her head while catching a whiff of the scent of her hair. “Ready to go home?” Jay inquired and without hesitation, Jemima nodded.
She wasn’t going to stay in the safe house that no longer felt safe.

After an hour of packing, they all left the safe house. Jay and Jemima drove to his apartment while Marcus, Ava, her kids, and Alan drove to the Valerian estate.

Later that evening, the quiet hum of Jay’s house unsettled Jemima. It was deceptive, a thin veneer of calm stretched over a foundation of unease. Jemima paced the small living room, her fingers brushing against the edges of the furniture as if tethering herself to the present. The weight of Alan's words from the night before clung to her like a second skin.

“No matter how much I hate you, I can't stand the thought of losing you."

She'd replayed that moment in her mind over and over, searching for clarity. Alan's confession had been raw, stripped of the polished charm he usually wore like armor. And it had left her questioning everything.

Jay's voice broke through her thoughts. "You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up."

Jemima stopped mid-step, turning to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His dark eyes studied her, equal parts concerned and amused.

"Sorry," she muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just... I can't sit still."

Jay pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room, his steady presence grounding her. "It's understandable. These past few days have been... a lot."

She let out a humorless laugh. "That's an understatement."

He reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers. "You don't have to figure it all out today, Jem. We'll take it slow."

His words were meant to comfort, but they only made her feel more restless. Taking it slow wasn't an option when every second felt like borrowed time. Vanessa was still out there, her absence a gaping wound. Alan was unraveling before her eyes, and Jay—steady, reliable Jay—was carrying more weight than he let on.

"I need to do something," she said, pulling her hand away.

Jay frowned, his concern deepening. "Like what? There's nothing left to fight, Jem. Jon's gone. The Ross empire is crumbling. For once, you can just... breathe."

But breathing felt like a luxury she hadn't earned.

"Vanessa," she said quietly, the name heavy on her tongue. "I need to find her."

Jay's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "Jemima, we've been over this. Vanessa made her choice. She betrayed you—betrayed all of us. You can't keep chasing ghosts."

"She's not a ghost," Jemima snapped, her voice rising. "She's my best friend. Or at least, she was. And I need to know why. I need to hear it from her."

Jay stepped back, his jaw tight. "And what if you find her? What then? Are you going to forgive her? Let her back into your life like nothing happened?"

"I don't know," Jemima admitted, her voice breaking. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. I have to try."

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're going to get yourself hurt, Jem. Or worse."

"I can handle it," she said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He shook his head, his frustration giving way to resignation. "Fine. If this is what you need to do, I won't stop you. But don't expect me to sit here and wait for you to come back in one piece."

The words stung, but she nodded. "I understand."

Jay stared at her for a moment longer before turning and walking out of the room. The sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, leaving Jemima alone with her thoughts.

The morning sun was high by the time Jemima drove back to the Valerian house and found Alan in the garden. He was sitting on the low stone wall, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

"I didn't know you smoked," she said, announcing her presence.

Alan glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I don't. Just needed something to do with my hands."

She approached cautiously, the tension from the night before still lingering between them. "Can we talk?"

He exhaled a plume of smoke, the tendrils curling into the air. "About what?"

"Last night," she said, sitting on the wall beside him.

Alan chuckled darkly. "What's there to talk about? I said what I said. End of story."

"It's not that simple," Jemima argued. "You can't just drop something like that and walk away."

Alan turned to her, his dark eyes sharp. "Why not? It's what you've been doing for years. Walking away, choosing him over me. So forgive me if I finally decided to take a page out of your book."

His words were like a slap to the face, but she refused to back down. "That's not fair, Alan. You know it's not."

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his voice rising. "You've always chosen Jay. Every damn time. And yet here you are, sitting next to me, acting like you don't know why I'm angry."

Jemima opened her mouth to respond but stopped, the weight of his accusation sinking in. He wasn't wrong. She had chosen Jay—time and time again. But that didn't mean she didn't care about Alan.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, her voice soft. "For everything."

Alan laughed bitterly. "Sorry doesn't fix anything, Jemima. It doesn't bring back my father. It doesn't erase the years of hatred between our families. And it sure as hell doesn't change the fact that I'm standing here, alone, while you have him."

Her heart ached at his words, but she knew there was nothing she could say to make it better. Alan's pain was his own, and no apology could take it away.

"You're not alone," she said quietly.

He scoffed, flicking the cigarette to the ground. "Aren't I? Because it sure feels like it."

Jemima reached for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. "I'm here, Alan. And I always will be. Even if it's not in the way you want."

He stared at her hand for a long moment before pulling away. "That's not enough, Jemima. It'll never be enough."

The day stretched on, the hours blending in a haze of tension and unspoken words. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Jemima felt like she was suffocating under the weight of it all.

She found herself in the library of the Valerian house, maps and papers spread out across the desk. If she couldn't find peace, she could at least find purpose.

Her search for Vanessa was fruitless, the leads cold and scattered. But she refused to give up. Somewhere, deep in her gut, she knew Vanessa was still alive. And she wouldn't rest until she found her.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, expecting Jay or Alan.

But it wasn't either of them. Ava stood in the doorway, her expression hesitant.

"Mind if I join you?" Ava asked.

Jemima gestured to the chair across from her. "Of course."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

"I heard you're looking for Vanessa," Ava said finally.

Jemima nodded. "I have to find her. I can't just let it go."

Ava hesitated, then reached into her pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "I found this in Jon's office before... you know."

Jemima took the paper, her hands trembling as she unfolded it. The words scrawled across the page were a jumble of addresses, dates, and cryptic notes. But one thing was clear: Vanessa had been working with Jon until the very end.

Her heart sank, the betrayal cutting deeper than ever. But amidst the pain, a spark of hope ignited. This was a lead—a chance to find her friend and finally get the answers she needed.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ava reached across the desk, squeezing her hand. "Be careful, Jemima. Whatever you find out there... it might not be what you're hoping for."

Jemima nodded, her resolve hardening. She didn't know what she would find, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't done fighting.