"The art of reading between the lines is as old as manipulated information." – Serge Schmemann

"Daniel, there's something I need to tell you." His wife's voice was nervous and, for the first time, vulnerable.

He pressed pause on the Scotch he prepared to pour himself and, instead, drank in her appearance. Her eyes were wide, her skin pale... the months of scandal after scandal had taken its toll, and he hadn't been nearly as supportive of his wife as he should have been. "What is it?"

"I'm -" Emily Thorne never struggled to find the words but, apparently, Emily Grayson did. "I'm -" Her hand dove into her purse and passed the white stick to him.

"Pregnant," Daniel completed her confession, and Emily nodded. It was incredible how two purple lines changed his entire perspective. "You're sure?"

"Ninety-nine percent," Emily lightened the moment, referencing the statistic on the box. "How do you feel?"

Genuine laughter filled the room, as Daniel processed the new information. "I feel like the luckiest man on earth!" He looked like it, too. Since the downfall of the Grayson family, Daniel hadn't much reason to smile. Now, he smiled the same way he did on the day she bet against Bill Harmon at their first ever polo match. "How do you feel?" Daniel became more serious in his approach, aware that Emily did not foresee children in their marriage so early on.

"I feel..." Emily paused, "Like the luckiest woman in the world."

Flashforward

"I'm home."

The meek female echo from the foyer of Grayson Manor went unanswered. "... absolutely not. I'm sorry but that is completely unacceptable." Emily clicked her heels on every step of the stairs, clearly oblivious to the individual who had walked into her home. "Then, I suggest you contact Mr. Ross with the details and I will personally discuss it with him." She bluntly ended the phone call, rolled her eyes and muttered, "Idiot."

"Ever the businesswoman, huh?"

Emily spun abruptly on her heels and her heart skipped a beat. "Charlie, you're here!" The brunette dropped her suitcase to the floor and fell into her mother's warm embrace. "How are you, sweetheart?" Emily squeezed, hard. "You should have called. We would have collected you from the airport. Your father's still at work, and your sister -" her mother paused, mid-sentence. "Well, I'm not sure where Sophia is but Jacob and Hannah are with Nolan." Emily enveloped Charlotte in her arms a second time and guided her into the kitchen. "Tell me all about college. How's Andrew?"

Charlotte smiled, "Great! My lecturer's are all so wonderful. Andrew's okay." She spoke so softly of her childhood sweetheart, who she had known since her formative years of childhood, and loved even back then. "He wanted to fly home with me but his Grandmother's sick."

"I'm sorry," Emily offered mere condolence.

"Mom, if you're the only one home..." Charlotte surveyed and assessed the privacy of the environment. "Then, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"What is it, honey?" Emily brushed the strands of her away from her daughter's face.

"I received letters whilst I was at college. Letters from Rikers Island," Charlotte confessed, her lips pursed, as if she were unsure whether to continue. "Conrad..." she stumbled over the name because it tasted so bitter. "...says he loves me. He says he wishes he had the chance to know me. He says he's ill," she added. "The letters were so honest." Perhaps, Emily's expression said all she needed to, because Charlotte rambled more to rationalise her response. "I know he's a reprehensible man but he's paid his due. He's sorry." Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat, "I didn't want to mention it to dad because I didn't want to upset him. Mom, I don't know what to do. Do you think I should see him?"

The question opened Emily up into a world of conflict. "I think... your loyalty to your family never leaves you, or your conscience."

"He is my Grandfather," Charlotte defensively noted.

"You've met him once before." It was at Charlotte's personal request that Emily had driven her and Sophia to Rikers Island where they were introduced to Conrad. Charlotte was thirteen, Sophia only eleven, and Emily could still remember Daniel's fury at her act of betrayal. She simply couldn't deny her daughter; nor herself the pleasure of rubbing salt in the wound of a man that destroyed her father.

"Dad was furious," Charlotte recalled, as if she could read her mother's mind. Her parents had been on rocky ground for weeks after that. It was at that age that Charlotte truly realised what a source of conflict her father's family had once been for her parents. "You don't think I should see him, do you?"

"Your father saw him recently." Emily ducked the question, upset at how easy-to-read she had become.

Charlotte twirled her brunette curls around her fingers and lightly shook her head, "I won't see him."

More relieved than she cared to admit, Emily maintained the blankest expression possible and searched for an acceptable escape route. "Sweetheart, I need to call Nolan. The issue with the NolCorp account needs to be rectified. Why don't you unpack? I'll be finished in a couple hours and your father should be home by then."

Charlotte dutifully nodded her head and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. Alone, she retrieved the piece of paper neatly folded in her pocket, which was the most recent letter from Conrad. The lines from her Grandfather's hand had been written in unique purple-inked pen. Against her own better judgement, Charlotte had been purposely vague, when she confided the contents of the letter. Yes, he had apologised for his behaviour. Yes, he had claimed some kind of kinship toward her and requested that she visit him. But, between the purple lines, there was an insinuation of something more. Charlotte was convinced there was a whole other world of existence and all she had to do was read between the purple lines for the key to that discovery.