Chapter 653 Returning to the Stuart Villa
Michael instinctively reached out to hold Emma, but froze the moment he touched her. In the moonlight, Emma's peaceful sleeping face overlapped with the weary face of Celeste from his memories. He quickly withdrew his hand and fled the bedroom as if escaping. Standing in the hallway, he breathed heavily, as if he had just survived a life-and-death struggle.
The next morning, Emma found Michael staring blankly in front of a baby store. His eyes were vacant, as if he was looking through the window into a distant place. Inside, the store was filled with neatly arranged baby clothes, toys, and bottles, exuding a warm and cozy atmosphere.
"Do you want to go in and take a look?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with hesitation.
Michael snapped out of his daze, his face darkening instantly. "No." He grabbed her hand roughly. "Let's go home." His tone was commanding, but his grip subconsciously softened, as if afraid of hurting her.
Emma stumbled slightly from his pull, feeling a faint pain in her abdomen. She bit her lip and stayed silent.
Back home, Michael locked himself in the study and didn't come out until late at night. Emma stood at the door with a cup of hot milk, hearing the sound of glass shattering and Michael's suppressed growls. The sound was like the mournful cry of a trapped beast, filled with pain and struggle. She gently set down the milk and left quietly.
She couldn't understand why the men of the Russell family always pushed away the women who loved them, while giving their greatest tenderness to those they didn't love.
In the dead of night, Michael stood in front of the room where Celeste once lived, his fingers trembling as he pushed the door open. The room was spotless, as if its owner had only temporarily left. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a hazy glow over everything.
His gaze fell on the photo frame on the bedside table, the only photo Celeste had left behind. In the picture, she smiled sweetly, her eyes full of hope for the future. Michael picked up the frame, his thumb gently caressing Celeste's face. A tear suddenly fell onto the glass.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, but the person he was apologizing to would never hear it. His voice was hoarse and broken, echoing in the empty room, making it all the more desolate.
Outside, Emma stood quietly, listening to the muffled sobs inside. She slowly crouched down, hugging her knees tightly. Silent tears fell, soaking her clothes.
If Michael's heart was with Celeste, why wouldn't he let her go?
In the hospital corridor late at night, Michael carefully escorted Emma out, a scene captured by a hidden entertainment reporter.
The flash of the camera went unnoticed in the darkness. The next morning, the explosive news dominated the headlines of all major entertainment media: "Russell Group CEO takes wife to hospital late at night, suspected pregnancy!" The accompanying photo showed Michael holding Emma's shoulder, looking tense as they hurried towards the hospital entrance.
The news caused a sensation throughout the city. For a time, it was the talk of the town.
To avoid the media frenzy, Emma returned to the Stuart Villa under the guise of needing rest. When she pushed open the familiar door, Sophia and Henry were in the living room, enjoying their coffee. Seeing Emma suddenly return, they were so surprised they nearly spilled their cups.
"Emma!" Sophia rushed forward, pulling Emma into a tight embrace, her voice choked with emotion. "Why did you come back so suddenly? You didn't even give us a heads-up."
Emma leaned against Sophia's shoulder, the familiar scent of her perfume bringing tears to her eyes. "I missed you both, so I came back to visit."
Henry stood nearby, looking at Emma with loving eyes, but he keenly noticed the exhaustion and restraint in her eyes. He gently patted his wife's shoulder. "Alright, let the child rest for a bit. Emma, are you hungry? I'll have the kitchen prepare something for you."
Emma shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, Dad. I just want to stay here for a few days."
As the family of three enjoyed their reunion, the butler hurried in, looking somewhat troubled. "Mr. Stuart, Mrs. Stuart, George is here."
Emma's body stiffened, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes. Her heart raced, her mind flooded with thoughts. Was he here for her? Did he know about the news? Would he misunderstand?
Before she could sort out her thoughts, George had already walked in. Dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, he looked tall and imposing, his handsome face carrying a cold aloofness.
Emma instinctively stood up, her lips trembling slightly. "You..."
George's gaze swept over her briefly before turning to Henry, his tone businesslike. "Mr. Stuart, sorry to intrude. I wanted to discuss the jewelry project we talked about last time in more detail."
Emma's face turned pale. She stood there, feeling as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, leaving her shivering.
"So that's it." She forced a cold smile. "Mr. Russell is truly dedicated, discussing business even on the weekend."
George finally looked at her, his eyes indifferent as if looking at a stranger. "Ms. Stuart, you're overthinking it. Business matters need to be addressed promptly." He paused, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "But Ms. Stuart, running around while pregnant, aren't you worried about the baby?"
His words were like a sharp knife, stabbing into Emma's heart. She bit her lower lip hard, her nails digging into her palms to keep from losing her composure.
"No need to worry, Mr. Russell." She lifted her chin, her voice deliberately light. "My husband takes very good care of me."
George's eyes turned cold for a moment, but he quickly regained his nonchalant demeanor. "That's good. Congratulations."
The tension between them was palpable, the air seeming to freeze. Sophia and Henry exchanged a glance, wisely choosing not to intervene. They knew Emma well enough to understand that her current toughness hid untold suffering.
"Since Mr. Russell is here for business, please proceed to the study." Henry broke the silence, gesturing politely.
George nodded slightly and followed Henry upstairs. As he passed by Emma, his steps faltered almost imperceptibly, but he didn't stop.
Emma stood there, watching his figure disappear around the corner of the stairs. She finally couldn't hold on any longer, stumbling back a step. Sophia quickly supported her, holding her cold hand with concern. "Emma."
"Mom, I'm fine." Emma forced a smile, her voice barely audible. "I'm just a bit tired. I want to rest in my room."
In the study, George listened absentmindedly to Henry's project details, his pen unconsciously drawing chaotic lines on the paper. His mind was filled with the image of Emma from earlier—her pale face, trembling lips, and the words, "My husband takes very good care of me."
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