The world closed in around Hannah, suffocating, crushing, the air thick and heavy, pressing down on her tiny frame like an unbearable weight.

Her heart pounded violently, a sharp, painful rhythm slamming against her ribs, the panic coursing through her veins like ice, like fire, like a vice around her throat.

And then—

She saw them.

The overalls.

Teddy bear overalls.

The very same ones.

The ones she never forgot.

These were the ones that had burned into her memory, stitched into her nightmares, and woven into her deepest fears.

The ones he had worn when they had taken him away.

The ones he had worn when she and Emily had lost everything.

The ones that meant only one thing.

SHE was coming.

She felt her stomach drop, felt the cold, creeping terror slither up her spine, wrapping around her like a snake, squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter—

She tore her eyes away from him, frantically searching the crowd.

Where is she?!

Where is she hiding?!

She could feel her.

She could feel her eyes watching, waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to strike, ready to take them, ready to steal them away again.

She’s here.

She’s coming for us.

She’s coming for me.

The panic clawed its way up her throat, her vision blurring, darkening around the edges, the world shrinking into a narrow, suffocating pinprick.

She squirmed in her stroller seat, struggling desperately, her mittened hands pawing weakly at the restraints, trying to escape, trying to run, trying to get away.

Get out, get out, GET OUT!

Her breathing was ragged, shallow, too fast, too much, not enough.

The edges of her vision faded, tunneling, crushing her in.

Her body locked up, her fingers trembling, her limbs numb, distant, unreachable.

The world was closing in, the panic swallowing her whole, dragging her into the abyss—

And then—

Daddy was there.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her free from the suffocating grasp of terror, lifting her effortlessly from the stroller. Warmth. Familiarity. Safety.

She was in his arms.

Not hers.

Not that woman’s.

Not Mommy’s.

No.

Daddy.

Hannah buried her face into his shoulder, her entire tiny frame trembling, the sobs wrenching out of her uncontrollably, her body wracked with fear and grief and something she couldn’t even name.

She was safe.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

She clung to him, her mittens useless, her small hands pressing desperately against his chest as if trying to ground herself, trying to reassure herself that he was real.

Her breathing was shaky uneven, sharp hiccups breaking through her cries as she fought to escape the nightmares clawing at the edges of her mind.

The memories flashed before her.

The cold, sterile rooms.

The giant hands pinning her down.

The baby talk, the pacifiers, the cribs, the bottles.

The woman who had stolen her body, her mind, her life.

She shuddered violently, curling tighter against Daddy’s chest.

And then—

Emily was there, too.

Pressed into Daddy’s other arm, her expression pale, her eyes wide, her brows furrowed with concern.

She was scared.

But she wasn’t breaking.

Not like Hannah was.

She was handling it better.

Hannah didn’t understand.

Didn’t know what was happening, why Daddy was wearing those overalls, why he looked so stiff, so…wrong.

Her breath hitched again, her entire body still trembling, still raw from the panic attack that had nearly swallowed her whole.

She sniffled, pressing herself deeper into Daddy’s warmth, desperately seeking comfort, answers, and stability.

But nothing made sense.

Nothing at all.

Daddy’s voice was soft, steady, familiar, grounding her, tethering her back to the present, pulling her from the spiral of terror that had nearly swallowed her whole.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

His arms tightened around her, and his voice was soothing and warm, as it always was when he reassured her.

“I promise.”

Hannah sniffled, her body still trembling, but the steady rhythm of his voice, the firm, the protective grip of his arms, and the quiet certainty in his words helped the panic loosen its claws just a little.

She could still feel it lurking beneath the surface, but Daddy was here.

Not her.

Not that woman.

Not Mommy.

Daddy.

She took a slow, shaky breath, pressing deeper into his warmth, her tiny mittened fingers gripping his shirt as if trying to hold onto him tighter to make sure he didn’t slip away.

And then—

Emily spoke.

“What’s going on?”

Her voice was sharp direct, the tension in her words cutting through the fragile air around them.

She was still scared.

But she was thinking, questioning, pushing for answers.

Hannah wasn’t sure if she was strong enough for that.

Daddy took a long, slow breath, his chest rising and falling beneath Hannah’s cheek, his grip on both of them just a little firmer before he answered.

“…Miranda isn’t happy with our progress.”

The words came out low, measured, and careful, but Hannah could hear the weight behind them.

The anger, the exhaustion, the humiliation.

Daddy wasn’t just explaining.

He was confessing.

He was admitting to them the truth.

Miranda was angry.

Miranda felt that Hannah and Emily still had too much autonomy.

That they were still being treated as too mature for their true ages.

And so now—

She was taking it out on him.

Controlling him.

Breaking him.

And this outfit—these teddy bear overalls, this humiliating, infantile ensemble—

It was just her latest attempt at breaking him.

A warning.

A reminder.

That she could go further.

That she could take more.

That she could reduce him even further if she chose.

Hannah sucked in a sharp breath, her body going still, her fingers gripping Daddy’s shirt even tighter as another quiet sob escaped her lips.

She didn’t know what to do with this.

She didn’t know how to process the idea that Miranda wasn’t just coming for her and Emily.

She was coming for Daddy, too.

She nuzzled deeper into his shoulder, her tiny frame curling inward, wanting to disappear, wanting to pretend none of this was real.

But Emily—

Emily wasn’t done.

“Really?”

Her voice was flat, disbelieving, tinged with something bitter.

She gestured to Hannah.

“I mean, look at her, Daddy.”

Hannah felt her cheeks heat, but Emily’s words weren’t mocking.

They were furious.

“She’s basically been reduced to a newborn.”

Emily’s voice was sharp, cutting, and relentless.

“What more does Miranda want?”

She glared up at Daddy, the frustration breaking free now, bubbling to the surface.

“Complete, mindless babyhood?”

She gestured wildly, her hands shaking.

“No thoughts? No thinking? Just—”

Her voice cracked, and then—

“A zombie of a person?”

Her hands clenched into tight fists.

“A shell? A freaking doll?!”

Her voice rose, her words brimming with raw, unfiltered anger, fear, devastation.

And Hannah—

Hannah couldn’t deny it.

Because that’s exactly what she felt like.

A shell of who she used to be.

A doll for Miranda’s amusement.

Daddy sat quietly, his face a mix of concern and confusion. His mind spun, and he searched for answers but found none.

Emily’s words lingered in the air, thick with anger, fear, and frustration—raw and unfiltered.

For a long moment, Daddy just stared at nothing, his expression far away, lost in thought, his arms still securely wrapped around both of them.

Then—

Softly, almost too softly, he spoke.

“…I don’t know.”

His voice was heavy, edged with something dark, bitter, exhausted.

“I don’t know what Miranda’s end game is,” he admitted, his tone measured, careful, cautious.

His gaze flickered toward Emily and then toward Hannah. He exhaled slowly, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

“All we can do is play by her rules.”

The words felt like a surrender, but Hannah knew better.

This wasn’t defeat.

It was strategy.

He wasn’t giving in.

He was surviving.

But then—

He hesitated.

His chest rose and fell with a slow, shaky breath. His arms tightened around them both, and his fingers gripped them just a little firmer.

And then, he said it.

“I’m not about to let her—”

His voice caught, his breath hitching, his eyes growing distant, haunted, lost.

A flicker of something dark flashed across his face, something deep, wounded, broken.

Then—

Resolve.

Determination.

No—

Fury.

He sucked in a breath, blinked once, and whatever had been there—that fear, that hesitation, that moment of doubt—

It was gone.

His voice, when it came next, was strong. Unshakable.

“No. I’m NOT about to let her take away my girls.”

Hannah felt his arm tighten around her, protectively, fiercely, possessively.

Her breath hitched.

This man—

This man would go to the ends of Amazonia to protect her and Emily.

She knew it.

She felt it in his every breath, in his every word, in the way he held her as if she was the most important thing in the world.

It made her heart swell, warmth flooding her chest, even as her mind spun with the terrifying realization of how much Miranda had already taken from them.

Hannah swallowed, her fingers clutching at his shirt, searching for comfort, grounding herself in his presence.

But then—

A new fear crawled into her mind.

What about Miranda’s control?

What about the humiliating outfits, the degrading commands, the suffocating leash she had already wrapped around Daddy’s life?

What about the fact that she could, at any moment, force him into anything she wanted?

Daddy smiled at them, his voice warm, steady, reassuring as he said, “I’m okay. I promise.”

But Hannah knew better.

The smile never touched his eyes.

It was forced, a fragile facade, a thin mask that barely covered the cracks forming beneath.

And just beyond those cracks—

She could feel it.

The clawing, unrelenting dread.

The fear.

The same fear she felt.

The same terror sank deep into her bones, refusing to let go.

She felt bad for him.

Felt horrible, heartbroken, aching inside.

But she was terrified, too.

At least Daddy was an Amazon.

At least he had some form of protection, some level of authority that Miranda had to work to strip away.

But her?

Emily?

They were just Littles.

They could be shipped off at any moment.

Sent away. Disappeared. Forgotten.

Doomed to a life they didn’t want to live.

Hannah’s tiny hands clutched Daddy’s shirt. Her mittened fingers grasped the fabric tightly, holding on as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

She didn’t want to be taken away.

She didn’t want to be sent somewhere else, locked away, trapped forever.

She wanted to stay with Daddy.

She wanted to be safe.

She wanted to feel normal again.

But that—that was gone, wasn’t it?

Daddy let Emily down and helped her climb back into the stroller next to Lucas, who looked concerned but didn’t understand.

Lucas wasn’t panicking the way they were.

He wasn’t breaking apart from the inside out.

He didn’t understand the depths of why Hannah and Emily felt the way they did.

Maybe he would, someday.

Maybe—if Miranda had her way—he would soon.

But for now—he was lucky.

Hannah, thankfully, remained in Daddy’s arms as he stood, still holding her close, keeping her against his chest.

She could feel his heartbeat, strong but uneven, the only thing betraying his fraying composure.

Still, he forced the smile again, his voice cheerful, encouraging.

“Come on, let’s focus on the vacation.”

He bounced Hannah gently, his arms secure around her.

“Let’s relax. Let’s have fun!”

But Hannah—

Hannah didn’t feel like having fun.

She couldn’t.

And as they continued walking through the park, Daddy’s gentle bounces rocking her slightly, his hand patting the thick padding of her diaper, she wondered—

Would she ever feel normal again?

*

The engines roared as their car launched forward, screaming around the track. The wind whipped against Emily’s face, and her heart pounded in her chest with an exhilarating mix of fear and thrill.

This was—WAY more intense than she ever could have imagined.

She had ridden rides before—plenty of them. But this?

This felt faster. More violent. More terrifying.

Likely because of her size.

Everything was bigger now.

She was smaller. Weaker.

The world wasn’t built for Littles like her.

Which meant that even something as simple as a racing ride felt like a high-speed death trap.

She was strapped in tightly, the five-point harness snug across her chest and thighs, pinning her down securely in the specially designed Little seat.

Hannah sat between her and Lucas, the three of them packed tightly together, their voices a cacophony of squeals and screams as they hurtled around the bends.

Emily felt her stomach drop as they went into a sharply banked turn, the car tilting at an angle, the g-forces pressing her deep into the seat.

And then—

The realization hit her like a freight train.

She had needed to go potty before the ride.

She had meant to tell Daddy.

But—she hadn’t.

And now, fear and excitement coursing through her veins, the sheer intensity of the ride shaking her body from all angles—

She couldn’t stop the flood.

A warm, sudden rush filled her diaper, soaking into the already thick padding, spreading instantly, the absorbent material wicking away the wetness effortlessly.

Emily gasped, her cheeks burning. The ride was too fast and intense, keeping her locked in place and completely powerless to stop what was happening.

The harness dug tightly into the sodden bulk between her legs, pressing the now-warm squish firmly against her.

And then—

The vibrations.

The constant rumbling beneath her, the rapid jolts of the vehicle, the way the motion sent new, unrelenting pressure against her most sensitive places.

A tingling sensation began traveling up her spine, radiating through her core, pooling in her stomach, in her hips, in the heat between her legs.

Her breathing hitched, her fingers clenching against the harness as her body betrayed her.

It felt—

It felt good.

Too good.

The warmth, the friction, the steady motion, the way her body reacted without her permission.

And then—

The words.

Naomi’s words.

Slithering into her mind like a snake, like a ghostly whisper that had never truly left her.

“Good girls wet their diapers.”

“It’s okay to enjoy it.”

“Doesn’t it feel nice, Emily?”

Her hips twitched, moving instinctively, her body melting into the motion, the pleasure building, swelling, breaking apart inside her.

A moan escaped her lips, soft and breathy, before she even realized it was happening.

And finally, a gasp, her head lulling back, her hips pressing her sodden diaper into the strap between her legs, grinding into it as the car’s vibrations sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her sensitive clit.

Her vision swam, stars dancing at the edges, her mind floating in bliss.

And then—

She went completely slack in her seat.

Breathless.

Spent.

Dizzy with pleasure, confusion, humiliation, and something else she couldn’t name.

The car sped onward, her body trapped in the harness, trapped in her pleasure, trapped in the sickening truth that she had felt so good, so warm, so right in something so, so wrong.

The ride slowed, the high-speed thrill giving way to a smooth, gliding motion, the car gently rolling into the disembarkment area—

And then—

She was there.

Naomi.

Her voice was honeyed silk, wrapping around Emily’s already dazed, pleasure-clouded mind, each word a caress, a whisper of encouragement, a push deeper into the abyss.

“Such a good girl, Emmy…”

Emily shivered.

Her body was still slack in her seat, her muscles loose, her breathing shallow, her heart still pounding from what had just happened.

“This is exactly where you’re meant to be, sweetheart.”

Emily’s stomach twisted, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t react, couldn’t resist.

Her diaper was soaked, warm, thick, pressed against her in ways that made her pulse quicken again, the aftershocks of pleasure still tingling through her core.

And Naomi—Naomi was there, stroking her mind with that perfect, lilting voice.

“Enjoying yourself. Enjoying your diapers. That’s what a good girl does.”

Emily’s lips parted slightly, her vision swimming, her body melting into Naomi’s words, her reality-bending beneath the weight of her conditioning.

She had enjoyed it.

She had felt good.

She had reacted.

And that realization sent a fresh wave of humiliation washing over her, but she was too dazed, too slow, too far gone to fight it.

The ride came to a complete stop, but Emily still couldn’t move.

Her limbs felt too heavy, her mind too distant, her body betraying her completely.

She barely registered Welby and Evelyn stepping off the ride, but she noticed them moving toward the strollers and unbuckling Hannah and Lucas.

And then—

Warm hands.

Not Daddy’s.

Evelyn’s.

Evelyn scooped her up, lifting her effortlessly from the seat cradling her against her chest.

Emily didn’t resist.

She couldn’t.

She wasn’t even sure she could walk if she wanted to.

Her head lolled weakly against Evelyn’s shoulder, her body limp, docile, obedient—

Exactly as Naomi had said, she would be.

Exactly as Naomi wanted.

And Emily—

Emily had no idea how to stop it.

Evelyn held her close, cradling her with care, her strong arms keeping Emily securely nestled against her.

There was concern on her face, her brows furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line as they stepped away from the ride.

The world around them was bright, loud, and bustling. Still, to Emily, everything felt distant, hazy, and muffled—like she was trapped behind a layer of thick glass, unable to engage fully with or comprehend what had just happened to her.

Evelyn’s voice cut through the haze, quiet, soft, gentle, meant only for Emily’s ears.

“Are you okay?”

Emily’s cheeks burned.

A deep, overwhelming humiliation surged through her as awareness crept back into her mind.

They had seen.

Daddy.

Evelyn.

Lucas.

Hannah.

They had seen her reaction.

Had watched her fall apart.

Had seen the way her body had betrayed her.

Her fingers twitched, her throat tightening as she leaned in, whispering back, her voice barely more than a breath.

“I’m fine…”

A lie.

It's a desperate, pathetic lie.

But what else could she say?

She swallowed, then continued.

“…I had an accident on the ride.”

That part was true.

But the next words—

The next words were the hardest to say.

“…And Naomi spoke to me.”

Her voice shook, her breath hitched, but she forced herself to admit the last part.

“I… I lost control.”

Evelyn pursed her lips, her expression darkening for just a moment. A flicker of anger, frustration, and helplessness flashed in her eyes.

Then—

She nodded.

Her grip on Emily tightened ever so slightly, a silent, protective gesture.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Evelyn murmured, her voice full of warmth, full of quiet reassurance.

“I’m sorry Naomi is doing this to you.”

Emily squeezed her eyes shut, hating how small, helpless, and utterly controlled she felt at that moment.

But Evelyn just held her closer.

“Daddy and I will take care of you, okay?”

Her voice was firm, steady, strong.

“You’re in good hands.”

Emily let out a shaky breath, unsure if she truly believed that, but right now—

Right now, it was all she had.

She wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Wasn’t supposed to catch the whispered conversation between Daddy and Evelyn as they walked, as Evelyn carried her securely in her arms.

But she did.

And the second she did—

Her face went crimson.

Burning, humiliating, unbearable heat flooded her cheeks, her ears, and her entire body.

She had barely registered Daddy leaning in, his voice low, careful, concerned as he spoke to Evelyn, but then—

One word.

A single, horrifying, earth-shattering word.

“Naomi.”

And then—

“Cummies.”

Emily felt like she had been slapped.

Like every ounce of dignity she had left had been yanked away in an instant.

Her stomach twisted painfully; her breathing hitched, and her entire body sank into itself in shame.

They knew.

Daddy knew.

He knew what had happened to her on that ride.

He knew what Naomi had done to her.

The shame was overwhelming, suffocating, unbearable.

She wanted to disappear.

Wanted to curl up and never be seen again.

But then—

Daddy nodded.

His hand ruffled her hair gently, his voice soft, warm, reassuring.

And when she finally forced herself to look at him, he was smiling.

Not a mocking smile.

Not an I-know-what-you-did smile.

Just—Daddy.

His expression was full of warmth, full of understanding, full of acceptance.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

His words were gentle, full of love, full of something she couldn’t quite name.

And somehow, despite the deep, horrible shame consuming her, Emily felt—

Safe.

By the time they reached the strollers, Emily was grateful to be put back in her seat, the familiar, cradling security of the five-point harness grounding her, centering her.

This time, she was sitting next to Lucas, his presence soothing, comforting, and solid.

Hannah was strapped into the single-rider stroller, her tiny frame nestled in securely, her pacifier bobbing in slow, sleepy motions.

And then—

Lucas’s fingers found hers.

Emily’s heart fluttered at the contact, her breath catching for just a moment, her fingers instinctively curling around his.

She glanced at him, eyes wide, and he met her gaze with a grin.

A boyish, sweet, carefree grin.

The kind of grin that made her heart skip, that made her stomach twist in something that wasn’t fear, wasn’t shame, wasn’t dread.

Something light. Something warm. Something good.

And as the stroller rolled onward, carrying them deeper into the park, deeper into whatever fate Miranda had in store for them next—

For just a moment, Emily let herself breathe.

Her heart fluttered uncontrollably, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t name, something unfamiliar, something thrilling.

Lucas’s fingers were still wrapped around hers, warm and steady, their hands resting between them in the stroller, his thumb lightly brushing against her skin.

She felt the heat of his thigh touching hers, the soft crinkle of their diapers shifting beneath them, a reminder of everything that had happened, everything that still defined them—and yet, at this moment, none of that mattered.

It was just Lucas.

Just his warmth, his presence, the way he made her feel safe and nervous all at once.

And then—

He spoke.

“So… how’d you like the ride?”

Emily’s stomach dropped, a fresh wave of heat rushing to her cheeks, burning her ears, her neck, and every inch of her face as the memory came slamming back into her mind.

The thrill. The vibrations. The warmth. The betrayal of her own body.

She forced a small, shaky smile, her fingers tensing in his grasp as she muttered, “It was… good. It was… more than I expected.”

Lucas chuckled.

A soft, amused, knowing chuckle.

“Yeah, I saw that.”

Emily’s breath caught.

Her fingers twitched, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she could barely think.

He saw.

He knew.

Her stomach twisted in a mix of shame, horror, and something else—something unfamiliar, something dangerous, something that made her entire body tingle.

And then—

He leaned in.

His breath was warm against her ear, his voice low, playful, teasing.

“I thought you were really cute.”

Emily froze.

Her face burned, her chest tightened, her pulse hammering in a way that sent shivers all the way to her toes.

Lucas’s grin was smug, mischievous, utterly confident.

And then—

He winked.

“Hope you get more of the unexpected.”

Emily wanted to die.

Wanted to curl into a ball, disappear into the stroller, and vanish from existence entirely.

But—

But the way he said it.

The way he looked at her.

The way his voice dipped lower, the way his fingers squeezed hers just slightly, the way his thigh pressed more firmly against hers.

It didn’t make her pull away.

It made her flush with renewed excitement.

A fluttering, school-girl heart hammering in her chest, her breathing quick and shallow, her entire body warm and buzzing in ways she didn’t understand.

She had never—

Never felt this way before.

She bit her lip, trying to control her emotions, trying to ignore the way her body reacted, trying not to think about what he had just said, about what he had seen, about what he had liked.

But her mind was a traitor.

And now—

She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Lucas’s hand shifted in hers, and before she could even process what was happening, his palm was resting against her thigh.

A sharp, electric jolt shot through her, her breath hitching, her entire body tensing as a fresh wave of nervous excitement rushed over her.

She forced herself to breathe, staring straight ahead, trying desperately to focus on anything but the way his hand felt on her leg.

The warmth.

The weight of it.

The way it made her entire body buzz with a confusing mixture of emotions.

They were entering San Fransokyo now, the vibrant Big Hero 6-themed area sprawling before them, filled with bright red banners, futuristic tech displays, and the towering silhouette of the Golden Gate-inspired bridge.

Emily tried to focus on that.

On the world around her.

On the distraction.

But all she could feel was Lucas’s touch.

His fingers rested casually on her leg, his body so close. The lingering sensation of his words remained whispering in her head.

And then—

“Who wants ice cream?!”

Daddy’s voice boomed over the crowd's noise. It was full of enthusiasm, bright, and playful, effortlessly bringing them back into the present.

Lucas immediately lit up, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. The confident, teasing boy from seconds ago melted back into the excited, carefree kid she knew.

“Me! Me!” he squealed, bouncing slightly in his seat, his hand disappearing from her leg as he eagerly shot both arms into the air.

Emily felt her breath escape in a quiet, shaky exhale, but before she could process what had just happened, she was grinning, laughing softly, joining in.

“Me too!”

Daddy chuckled, guiding them toward Ghirardelli, and just like that—

The moment was gone.

The tension, the teasing, and the lingering weight of Lucas’s hand were erased in an instant.

But Emily—

Emily still felt it.

She still felt the warmth in her chest, the butterflies in her stomach, the nervous, fluttering feeling that hadn’t quite left her.

And as they rolled into the cool, chocolate-scented air of Ghirardelli, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

About what it meant.

Minutes later, Emily found herself seated in a booster seat outside Ghirardelli. A massive chocolate sundae was placed in front of her, and the cool sweetness was already melting slightly under the warm California sun.

Lucas sat beside her, his sundae in hand. The two of them dug in enthusiastically, their spoons clinking against the glass dishes as they devoured their treats.

With a grin, Emily plucked the bright red cherry off the top of her sundae, popping it into her mouth with satisfaction. She savored the burst of sweet, syrupy flavor.

This was nice.

This was normal.

But even as she focused on the cold, rich ice cream, she couldn’t help but notice something odd.

Despite the countless times they had given Hannah food and snacks that she clearly couldn’t handle, they had also ordered her a Small sundae.

And sure enough—

Hannah’s face went pale, her expression mortified as she took a single bite, only to gag immediately, her tiny body trembling with discomfort.

Emily watched as Welby sighed heavily, rubbing his temple before reluctantly taking the sundae for himself.

What was up with that?

Why did they keep giving her things she couldn’t eat?

Why did Welby always have to take them instead?

It wasn’t just bad luck.

It was deliberate.

Emily’s mind spun, her spoon hovering over her sundae as she tried to piece together what that meant—

And then—

Evelyn moved.

And Emily nearly choked on her ice cream.

To her absolute shock, Evelyn gently lifted Hannah from her high chair, adjusting her shirt slightly before tucking the girl beneath it.

As if—

As if she were feeding Hannah under her shirt.

Emily’s face went beet red, her heart hammering wildly, her entire body flushing with secondhand embarrassment as she immediately snapped her gaze back down to her ice cream, shoveling a bite into her mouth in an attempt to ignore what was happening.

She did not need to see that.

She did not need to think about that.

Her mind was already reeling from everything else today, from Lucas, from Naomi, from the ride, from Daddy’s outfit, from Miranda’s control.

This?

This was too much.

She stared intensely at her sundae, her spoon moving mechanically as she focused on literally anything else.

But no matter how much she tried to ignore it, to block it out, to pretend she wasn’t seeing what was happening right in front of her—

She couldn’t shake the lingering thought.

The realization.

This wasn’t just about Hannah struggling to eat normal food.

This wasn’t just about Miranda controlling them.

Something else was happening.

Something bigger.

And Emily was starting to wonder just how deep it went.