A/N: Please pleas please review! I know y'all read it, so review, even if its criticism, as long as its constructive!

"Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten."

- Buddha

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! Emily's mind screamed at her, this was bad. Nodding at passerby he put his arm around her neck, squeezing tightly as he leaned in to whisper angrily in her ear as he dragged them outside to the waiting town car. "You really I would let you fool me this time, Love? You're fucking with the wrong man Darling, and you know it." He said pushing her head down into the car after Declan had hastily climbed in. He knew the look on Doyle's face was not a good one.

Emily rubbed her sore neck idly watching Ian closely. This wasn't over, she could tell. He was barely controlling his rage. I should have known, dammit! A tear rolled down her cheek in frustration. Quickly she wiped it away before either Declan, or is father saw. She didn't want Declan to be anymore frightened than necessary, and she refused to give Doyle the satisfaction of seeing her frustration.

Eventually the town car pulled up in front of a 20 foot guarded gate, before entering and pulling up in front of the largest grandest house Emily had ever seen. The price tag on this piece of real estate was likely astronomical, she was sure. From what she could see, it had private beachfront access, and an infinity pool and hot tub. Along the side of house was a massive garden, overflowing with Freesia's and exotic orchids. The house was two stories tall, wide as can be, with giant pillars out front and a wrap-around balcony. The entire house was made of brick and adobe, with Terra Cotta roofing. Absolutely magnificent, for all of his faults, Ian Doyle was a man of impeccable taste, and knowing him meant nothing was ever done small scale. Extravagance expected…

Grabbing her already sore neck once more, Doyle led them into the massive foyer, immediately an older woman with white hair wearing a gray maids uniform rushed forward.

"Monsieur Doyle, so good to see you," she said taking their coats from them.

"Dorota, this is my son, Declan. I'd like you to take him to get a decent meal and show him to his room, he's had a long day." Ian said briskly.

"Yes sir. Can I get you and the missus anything?"

"No. We'll be in the study. Do not let anyone disturb us. We'll be back to check on Declan once he's in bed." Ian answered, looking pointedly at Emily. Biting her lip, she bent down in front of Declan.

"Dec, it's okay sweetie. Go eat dinner and I'll be back to tuck you in, kay?" She said reassuringly.

"Ok-kkk…" He said nervously. "You promise?"

"Promise." She said firmly. "I just need to talk to your father alone for a while, you know just boring grown up stuff, kay?"

"Okay." He said waving at her as Dorota put her arm around his shoulders, starting to chat with him about his hobbies as they walked away from them towards the kitchens. Standing up, she looked at Ian, where for a brief second she thought she saw a moment of warmth cross his features, before they once more resembled his icy blue glare.

Making no effort to hide it, he grabbed her by the hair dragging her off to a set of double doors behind the grand staircase. Wincing, her hands instinctively reached for her head, digging her nails into his hands, well trying to, seeing as how she had none. Doyle laughed cruelly and intensified his grip. Opening the doors he threw her inside, tripping on the rug she fell, where she felt a burning sensation across her knees. Rug burn, son of a bitch! She thought angrily. Trying to stand up and fight back, she cried out as she felt a foot collide with her ribcage. She collapsed to the floor with an audible thud and a scream. Her ribs were still sensitive, being less than a year since the last time he'd broken them.

"You stupid bitch! You think after all you've done, all the times you tricked me, I wouldn't catch onto your little games?" Ian bellowed, kneeling down, knee in her chest plate, while she tried to catch her breath, as her wind got knocked out of her.

"Ian you don't know what you're doing to him," she breathed. "He had a future there, friends, a normal life!"

Screaming in rage Ian yanked her up by her hair, Emily yelled in pain turning her head to bite, chomping down when she felt skin. She let go as she felt herself being flung backwards over a giant mahogany desk in the middle of the room. Toppling over the desk, she hit her head on the wall behind it before laying still. She couldn't overpower him, her body tired and barely healed from their last tango together.

As she opened her eyes she saw the barrel of his gun aimed between her eyes.

"Go ahead, kill me," she chuckled bitterly. "He'll hate you forever," she said breathing harder. She knew she was on a treacherous slope but she didn't care. "He doesn't even remember the bad things you've done to him. Like when you backhanded him off his tricycle, or made him sick by eating a whole bar of soap for using a swear word when he was 4 years old!" She spat at him. His eyes widened in recognition of her words.

"How do you know that? You weren't even there? Who told you that?" He said slowly.

"It doesn't matter how I know, because it's true, isn't it? I wasn't there for him, to protect him from you, but I am now." She said defiantly. "And if you kill me, your son will never love you like you want him to so desperately. You have to control your temper!" Emily said slowly and firmly. Slowly, Ian lowered the gun breathing heavily, getting up off the floor, he took the clip out of the gun and threw it across the room, smashing a bottle of brandy on a shelf. He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went, leaving her alone, sobbing on the study floor.

When Ian did not return, Emily slowly used the desk to hoist herself up. She moaned and winced in pain, gasping short of breath. Peeking her head out of the door, she saw a maid walking down the hall.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where Declan's room is?" She asked attempting to stand up straight. She didn't want anyone seeing her weak, especially Declan.

"Third door on the left, in the North Wing hallway to your right," she said briskly.

"Thank you." Emily said rolling her eyes, still grimacing as she held herself up against the wall before limping down the hallway. She could feel her knee bleeding through her pants. She was just glad he'd left no marks on her face to make it obvious he'd beaten her. She just wanted to check on Declan and find an empty bed to crawl up and die on.

After what seemed like a mile of walking she found Declan's room. Knocking quietly she peeped her head in, "Declan? Are you awake?" Silence greeted her, so she took that as a sign that he was passed out cold. Quietly she shut the door behind her, and walked down the hallway until she saw another set of double doors with ornate carving on them. This, she assumed was the master bedroom, which she knew from experience Ian would demand she sleep in.

Opening the doors, she walked in without even turning on a light, found the big empty bed, and laid her head on the pillow. What the hell is going to happen now? She thought before the whole world went black.