Chapter VIII – Hateful cow.

I know I only posted chapter 7 last night, but I hope you'll thank me for this one. Enjoy :)


Her third month living with Killian and Lydia goes off without a hitch, aside from the sickness, but she blames that on the stress and the bug that the entire Jones family was taken down by. In the weeks past, she goes to Lydia's ballet recitals and shares romantic meals with Killian. All the while, she desperately tries to convince herself, to no avail, that falling for Killian will only make the situation worse, that loving him as she now does is foolish. After their evening with the Jones, Killian started acting strangely around her, as though something in him had changed. It wasn't a highly noticeable difference, but the way he glanced at her, it was as if he was seeing the real her, not the falsified version.

They've felt normal for so long; Emma almost fell for their version of reality. In her heart, she knew that if there were such things as soulmate, Killian was it for her. So it was a horrible twist of fate which had seen her sister marry him, and she'd been forced to live in her footsteps for the monster that was Ava Jones. Emma wanted him to say her name when they made love, to know that she was the one who made him happy and not Ava. But not under these circumstances.

"How do I even know the baby is mine?" his voice is cold, anger raging in Killian's eyes. "This was by far your cruellest game. You made me fall in love with you, more than I ever did before. And then this, I can't forgive you for having an affair! This marriage is a farce."

Emma swallows deeply, eyes clenched shut as she presses a hand to her stomach, "I never had an affair with Daniel."

Killian scoffs, walking forward to wave his phone in her face. "I've seen the pictures, Ava. Or have you forgotten?"

She thinks of Neal, the threat to both Killian and Lydia, but they're endangered either way now. "We haven't been married for years you and I, we only met three months ago. I was different, I know you felt it. Deep down, you've always know, I know it. This is real, you and me are the most real thing that I've ever felt in my entire life."

"What are you talking about?"

She walks forward to press a hand to his features, "Your wife, Ava, that's not me. It's never been me, and it's killed me all this time. The past three months have been a lie, and all I wanted was for it to be real."

She knows he won't say the words, he won't believe them. "Ava is living somewhere that I do not know, with Daniel. Meanwhile, to protect me, or so she said at the time, I was supposed to take her place here. I was going to tell you the night you found out that I existed, but Daniel threatened me, said he'd tell the Gold's where I was and then we'd all be in danger. I couldn't risk you and Lydia."

Her hands clench the fabric of her dress, tears streaming down her features, "I love you Killian and all I ever wanted was for you to call me Emma."

"I do love you. I thought I knew what love was, but these past three months have been the greatest moments of my life. You bonding with Lydia, loving me, being genuinely interested. There were no games, no lies, and all along I've been fooled once again. I love you, Emma. But I can't forgive you." The pang is deep in her heart; she knows what it's like to have trust broken constantly.

"I know," she whispers, eyes full of both sadness and love. "I'm grateful for every moment that I was loved by you. But now, you and Lydia need to go because Ava will already know what's happened here."

Killian nodded his head, giving her a saddened look, "Run, Emma, and don't look back."

Lydia, who'd been listening from outside the door, rushed around, head shaking manically. "Daddy, she can't leave," she begged, fingers reaching out to grab Emma's arm. "I hated Ava, she was horrible and laughed when mother was cruel. I love Emma, she's my mom."

Emma bent down, eyes meeting Lydia's. "I love you, Kid. I wish things could have stayed as they were, but I've been lying for too long now. Your daddy will take good care of you."

Lydia frowns, not letting go of Emma's arm, "Have both of you lost your minds? You love each other. You can't go, Emma. If you leave, I'll run away too."

"I'm sure we'll meet again, kid. But don't run away from your daddy, he's already been hurt too much." Emma kisses Lydia's head, and walks away from the bedroom, only to hear the young girl shout, "Daddy, say something!"

She's pulled back, a forehead pressed against her own. "There isn't a day I won't think of you."

"Good," she whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

When she wakes it's not with a start, but with tears in her eyes. Emma realises that the entire thing was a dream which had felt all too real. How could the outcome be anything different? Perhaps Killian would shout more, perhaps he wouldn't admit to loving her. But in the end, she would be without him.

Now, they're dressing for an event which even Lydia is allowed to attend. The Annual fundraiser hosted by Jones Enterprises for the Orphaned and at risk children of New York, is said to be a grandeur event than the smaller one she'd attended two months prior. It occurred to Emma, just how much Killian gave a damn. If only there had been someone like him to look out for her when she was a child.

For a change, she straightens her hair, blonde locks matching the sleekness of her white dress. The front is straight across her breasts, revealing just a slight swell beneath the expensive fabric, it's low at the back with a sleek slit in the side to expose her toned legs. The accessories are silver and bold in appearance, from the thick cuff on her arm to the earrings which drop in a link of chains to the small tear shaped stone.

Killian enters, wrapping his arms around her.

"It's a fine dress you've got on. In fact, you look ravishing," he breathes into her ear.

When Lydia enters, Emma gasps and leaps from Killian's arms, rushing over to her, "Lydia don't you look a picture!" The girl is a week away from turning thirteen and Emma can hardly believe it. In the short time that she's known Lydia, Emma has found her to be wise beyond her years.

"Do you think Flynn will be there?" Lydia whispers, a small sparkle in her eye. Emma smiles fondly, heart swelling with the memory of her perched on the end of Lydia's bed, listening as the twelve-year-old talks about the boy she likes.

"I think so, kid. But don't worry yourself too much, don't be anyone but your lovely self." Killian is stood back watching them, although Emma knows that he hasn't grasped the conversation. She thinks Killian will be very entertained when Henry grows up and starts having crushes, him he'll tease whilst Regina will likely question the poor boy. But his little Lydia, the very pearl of his world, the finest treasure in his chest, no he would skin Flynn alive if he knew.

"What are you two conspiring about?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. The signature Killian Jones look which Emma imagines once had the women swooning.

"Nothing, love," she teases, moving away from the young girl to pat Killian on the shoulder. Lydia clears her throat, bringing Emma's attention back to her.

Can you braid the front of my hair into a headband?" she asks, and suddenly Emma is motioning for her to sit at the vanity whilst Killian throws up his eyes muttering something about time.

"Fishtail, French or dutch?" she queries, running her fingers through Lydia's curled hair. Hours before, a stylist had come round to do both Lydia and Emma's hair, whilst she'd requested smooth and sleek, the younger girl had gone for loose romantic waves, but had forgotten to ask for a braid, Emma thought it might have been on purpose.

If Emma isn't helping Lydia with her homework, or braiding her hair, then Lydia is trying to teach her how to successfully make a batch of cupcakes. Each time she's attempted the mission solo, it's ended in disaster…the worst was the time she had the oven on the grill setting instead of baking.

"Fishtail," Lydia responds, and Emma sets her hands into fishtailing the bang section of Lydia's hair until Killian is looking at her and then tapping his watch.

It's such a mother-daughter moment, one that neither thought would ever happen. Emma thinks sadly about the upcoming inevitability of breaking Killian's heart. She hasn't mentioned the pregnancy, and surprisingly neither has he. The only one who does is Elsa, and Killian is quick to divert the conversation away. His excitement has disappeared, and Emma wonders if he already knows.

The week before, to Emma's delight, August had finally shown his face in Manhattan. He said he couldn't stay for too long, that he needed to watch Neal with the eye of a hawk. But it she'd happily embraced him, unburdened all of her secrets to the man she fondly thought of as brother, and wished him farewell as he returned to Las Vegas.

"Right are my girls ready to go?" Killian asks, and Emma's heart all but melts. Marriage with Killian, false as it is, feels natural. Emma thinks it would have been a glorious thing to fall in love, get the proposal, the wedding and the honeymoon, to celebrate the love as it should be and not as it is.

She wonders about Ava, where is she? It must be somewhere that Ava had always hoped to go, but there were plenty of places that her twin had once wrote down on a list. Now that Regina's divorce is now public knowledge, and Daniel has dropped off the face of the earth, readily signing the divorce papers, Emma knows that they must be together, somewhere. The thought makes her sick, she'd helped to enable their treachery.

Emma is no less overwhelmed than the last time she attended a big event with Killian, which was only two weeks prior. She wants to grasp the glass of champagne, but knows she can't. Hell, she'd give anything for a cold beer and a burger, proper diner food.

Killian had worked wonders only two days ago when she'd longed for grilled cheese and onion rings and then later on that day it had been placed at the table for her. Apparently even sophisticated Upper East Siders can enjoy the occasional greasy food.

"What is she doing here?" Emma questions, narrowing her eyes towards the woman who walks forward, a false smile painting the woman's botox'd features. Instinctively, her hand falls to lock into place with Lydia, who takes a step back to shield part of her face behind Emma's arms. How horrid, she thinks sadly. Her grip is firm, but supportive and she will certainly not leave Lydia alone.

Her other hand holds the glass of water steadily, although she's desperate to throw it over the bitch and watch her burn. "Milah, I didn't think you'd be here. Seems too charitable for you."

"Image is everything, darling," the woman announced, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Milah has styled herself in a gown of scarlet red, a generous plunge gracing her neckline, a statement from the woman to say 'I've still got it".

"And you're just starting to care about your image?" Emma asks rhetorically, eyes set in harsh lines as she gazes over at Killian's ex-wife. She doesn't know enough about Milah to judge her on a personal level, although Lydia has told her stories, and that's enough for her.

"Lydia, I almost didn't see you there. Come out and give you're a mother a hug," Milah urges, the fake smile getting progressively wider as she takes a step forward. Lydia makes no attempt to move, and at no point does Emma let go of the girl's hand. "She's not an accessory to use every time you want to look good in a picture," Emma growls, the hand not grasped in Lydia's begins to furiously clench the glass in anger, she loathes this woman.

"No amount of lipgloss can make you look any less of a boy, Lydia. That colour is awful, who picked out that dress for you? Was it Ava?"

"That's enough, Milah. You're not wanted here." Her eyes are flaming with rage, and suddenly glass is being removed from her hand.

"Any tighter and you may smash the thing, love," Killian announces, making his presence known. Emma had not wanted to make a scene, in fact she's happy to see that everyone else in the room has found their own conversations.

They stand, a united force and then a sinister smile creeps onto Milah's features.

"Poor Killian, will any of your wives ever truly love you? She's got you fooled, poor poor boy. Do you notice your bed is cold at night when she sneaks off to be with Daniel Stabler? How long is it now, Ava, two years?" Milah's voice is full of amusement. Annoyance stretches across Emma's face and then realisation, this is her fall down…right here.

"Killian," she begins, the blood in her face draining. Lydia frowns but doesn't let go,

Killian grits his teeth, eyes clenching momentarily before he turns on the balls of his feet, swiftly grabbing Lydia's hand to pull her away from the situation.

"You can't stand anyone else being happy can you?" Emma spits, her hand flies up to connect with the woman's cheek. "You deserve that slap, you hateful cow."

Gasps fill the air, but the socialites love the drama and Killian Jones's current wife slapping his ex is far too exciting for them. She's not embarrassed by the attention; she's grown a thicker skin than that.

Emma goes in search for Killian, but to no avail.

She doesn't want to ruin the night any more, this is for charity and the children of New York deserve it. So she leaves, throat thick and threatening, she wants to sob, to scream at him. He should've loved her from the very beginning, he should have met her and not Ava. It shouldn't be like this!

The driver takes her back to penthouse, although many things now sit in boxes. Regina's work on the new place is complete, and they are supposed to be moving there in three days. She nods to the doorman, although she knows this will be her last night there, maybe she won't even stay the night.

The wait is agonising, but eventually she hears the sounds two pairs of footsteps, Lydia's and Killian's making their way through the house. Emma has changed out of her dress and into the comfiest jeans she can find and throws on a cosy jumper for good measure, but now she feels inadequate when Killian walks in still wearing his designer suit. He's always been more refined than her, she'd shown her rough edges when she raised her hand to Milah.

He looks at her, arms crossed over his chest. She can't stand the silence.

"Please talk to me," she begs, standing up from where she'd sat on the end of their bed.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Swan."

"I never slept with Daniel," Emma exclaimed, tears falling from her eyes rapidly. "I wouldn't cheat on you. I wouldn't do that," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She'd learnt as a child that the only way to comfort was to hug her body, because no one would do it for her. It took her many years to trust that Ingrid would be there when she needed hugs, and that trust died with Ingrid.

He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it once more. "I would never want to hurt you Killian, and I'm tormented by the lies I've told to you."

"All I wanted was your honesty, Swan!" he exclaimed, turning his back to her. Her hand instinctively reaches out, fingers clutching the seams of his jacked.

"Killian, please-" she begins, and then he turns, a smirk lifting onto his features.

"I also just wanted to give you the time to tell me, Emma."

Note: And there it is! As most have you have been guessing along the way, Killian is not stupid. Ava is pretty much the exact opposite of Emma, which you'll see in the next chapter! Ava/Killian flashback

Chapter 9 will be with you mid-week, so throw me your feedback because I do love it!