When Emma heard what her father just said, something inside her snapped. Her jaw clenched so tight it ached. Her fingers curled into a fist by her side, and her entire body went still—stiff with fury. The moment his words rang through the phone — "I'll destroy every photo of your mother" — it was like a knife to her chest.
Her mother's photos… the only tangible memories she had left of the one person who ever truly made her feel safe.
She didn't even shout. She just whispered into the phone, voice trembling with cold restraint, "Okay. I'm coming."
That was all she could say. Her heart was racing, her throat tight with unshed tears, but she refused to let her father hear that weakness.
"Ten minutes," he repeated sternly. "Ten."
The call ended. Emma didn't move. Her phone dropped to her side, screen still glowing. Her breathing was short and sharp, but her face was calm in the most terrifying way—like the calm before a storm that wipes everything out.
She wanted to scream.
