Chapter Eighty one

Chapter 81

The silence in Marcus's study was electric, the tension threatening to snap like a taut wire. Jemima—or Jemma—stood at the center of the room, her posture radiating confidence and cold amusement, a stark contrast to the trembling uncertainty that had consumed her moments ago.

Marcus was the first to break the silence, his voice steady but loaded with authority. "Jemma."

She tilted her head, the corner of her lips curling into a smirk that wasn't Jemima's. It was chilling how her entire demeanor had shifted—her voice, her stance, even the way she looked at Marcus with a mix of disdain and amusement.

"Big brother," she said, her voice like silk laced with venom. "You always were the one to clean up the messes, weren't you? Somewhere in Jem’s happy world, she thought you abandoned her. Well I made her think so because it was the only explanation for why you vanished and came back without a trace when she needed you the most."

Marcus narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "I don't know what game you're playing, but this stops now."

Jemma let out a low, mirthless laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. "Game? Oh, Marcus, you think this is a game? You think I'm the problem?" She leaned forward, her green eyes blazing. "You're blind if you can't see that she is the problem. She's weak. And weakness in our world gets you killed."

"Jemima isn't weak," Jay interjected, his voice trembling slightly. He stepped closer, positioning himself protectively between Jemma and Marcus. "She's been through hell, and she's still standing. That's not weakness."

Jemma's gaze snapped to Jay, and for a moment, something flickered in her expression—contempt, maybe pity. "You're sweet, Jay. Naïve, but sweet. I can see why she loves you." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But let me tell you something—love doesn't save people. Strength does. Ruthlessness does. And I'm the one keeping her alive, not you. I’m the SK that gets the job done."

Jay flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. Marcus, however, didn't falter.

"Jemma," he said sharply, his voice like steel. "If you're so convinced you're the one keeping her alive, then prove it. Tell me what you want. Why now? Why come out at this moment?"

For a moment, Jemma seemed to hesitate, her smirk faltering. But then she straightened, her expression hardening. "Because she's too afraid to do what needs to be done. You all coddle her, treat her like glass. But out there—" she gestured vaguely toward the window, where the darkness of the city stretched endlessly—"there's no room for fear. No room for mistakes."

"Fear of what?" Marcus pressed, his voice low.

"Of Jon. Of Alan. Of Damien and Diane. Of every damn person who thinks they can control her," Jemma snapped. Her voice rose, a sharp edge slicing through the room. "She's drowning in it, Marcus. And I refuse to let her go under."

Jay took a step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "But you're not helping her. You're scaring her. You're pushing her further away."

Jemma's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, her confidence wavered. "You don't understand," she whispered.

"Then make us understand," Marcus said firmly.

The room fell silent again, the weight of Jemma's presence pressing down on everyone. But before she could speak, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house.

"Marcus?" Ava's voice called out, carrying a mix of concern and curiosity.

Jemima—or Jemma—froze. Her expression shifted, her shoulders tensing, as if the sound of her sister's voice had triggered something deep within her.

Ava appeared in the doorway moments later, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid and her sharp eyes scanning the room. Her two children hovered behind her, whispering quietly to each other until Ava turned and motioned for them to wait in the hallway.

"What's going on?" Ava asked, her gaze darting between Marcus, Jay, and Jemima. Her brow furrowed as she took in her sister's rigid posture and the tension in the air.

"Ava, take the kids to their room," Marcus said quickly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ava hesitated, glancing at Jemima—her sister, her blood—before nodding. She stepped back into the hallway, her voice low as she instructed her children to go upstairs. When she returned, her expression was grim.

"Someone explain what's happening," she demanded, crossing her arms.

Jemma's smirk returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ah, the matriarch. Always so quick to take charge, aren't you, Ava?"

"Jemima?" Ava's voice softened, a note of worry creeping in.

"Wrong," Jemma said simply, her tone cutting.

Ava turned to Marcus, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "What is she talking about?"

"It's not Jemima," Marcus said, his voice heavy. "Not entirely."

Jay stepped in, his voice trembling as he explained. "She calls herself Jemma. She says she's protecting Jemima, but..." He trailed off, unable to put the rest into words.

Ava's eyes widened slightly, her face paling as she turned back to her sister—or whoever this was standing in her place. "Protecting her from what?"

"From everything," Jemma said flatly. "You wouldn't understand, Ava. You've always been the perfect one, haven't you? The one who did everything right, who made all the safe choices. But Jemima? She's lived a life you can't even begin to comprehend."

Ava flinched, but she held her ground. "I may not understand everything she's been through, but I love her. And I'll do whatever it takes to help her."

"Love," Jemma repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. "You all keep throwing that word around like it means something. Where was this love when father had his way with Jemima, molested her? Where was it? You kept quiet and never said anything. Love didn't save us when Dad turned into a shell of himself. Love didn't stop Mom from pretending everything was fine while our family fell apart."

Ava recoiled from her words, Jay and Marcus turning to look at her as bewilderment plastered across her face.

“Ava what is she talking about?” Marcus inquired, his brows knotting together perplexingly.

“Oh you didn’t know?” Jemima taunted, angry tears spilling from her eyes but she furiously wiped them off.

“We were both kids.”

"That's enough," Marcus snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

Jemma turned to him, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Is it? Or are you just afraid to admit I'm right?"

The room descended into chaos, voices overlapping as everyone tried to make sense of the situation. Jay pleaded with Jemma to let Jemima come back, while Marcus and Ava argued over what to do next.

Amid the noise, Jemma pressed her hands to her temples, her expression twisting in pain. "Enough!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the study.

Everyone froze, their eyes locked on her as she staggered backward, her breathing ragged. For a moment, she seemed to waver, as if caught between two worlds.

"Jemima?" Jay whispered, stepping closer.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "Jay?"

Relief washed over him, and he reached out to touch her arm. But before he could, her expression shifted again, hardening into something colder.

"Nice try," Jemma said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Marcus cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "This isn't sustainable. We need to figure out how to separate them—or at least control this."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Ava asked, her voice tight. "This isn't something you can fix with brute force, Marcus."

Jay turned to her, desperation in his eyes. "Then what do we do? We can't just leave her like this."

Ava sighed, her shoulders slumping. "We need help. Professional help."

Jemma laughed, the sound sharp and grating. "Oh, please. A shrink isn't going to fix this, Ava. This isn't some psychological hiccup. This is survival."

"Survival from what?" Marcus demanded again, his patience wearing thin.

Jemma hesitated, her confidence faltering for the first time. She looked away, her jaw tightening.

"From him," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell silent, her words hanging heavy in the air.

"Who?" Marcus pressed, his tone softer now.

Jemma's eyes darted to Jay, then to Ava, before settling on Marcus. "Jon," she said simply.

Jay felt his blood run cold. He'd suspected that Jon Ross had left a lasting impact on Jemima, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill through him.

Marcus clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. "What did he do?"

Jemma's smirk returned, though it lacked the usual bite. "You really want to know? Or are you afraid the truth might break your perfect little image of her?"

"Tell me," Marcus said firmly.

Jemma opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a sharp knock echoed through the house. Everyone froze, their eyes darting to the door.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Ava whispered to Marcus.

"No," he said, his voice low.

Jemma's smirk widened, and she leaned back against the desk, her posture relaxed despite the tension in the room. "Well, this should be fun."

Marcus motioned for Ava to stay put as he moved toward the door, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun holstered at his side. Jay followed closely behind, his own nerves on edge.

As they reached the front door, Marcus paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He glanced back at Jay, who nodded, before pulling the door open.

Standing on the doorstep was a figure they hadn't expected to see.

"Lucas?" Marcus said, his voice filled with equal parts surprise and relief.

Lucas stepped into the house, his expression grim. "We need to talk."

Behind him, a shadowy figure lingered, their face obscured by the dim light. Marcus narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening on his gun.

"And who's that?" he asked, his voice cold.

The figure stepped forward, their features coming into focus.

"Seth," Jemma said from the study, her voice carrying through the house like a dark omen. "Welcome to the party."