When All Else Settles We Reunion Beyond The Storms Novel – It wasn’t until I was 18 that I found out I had an engagement. But my fiancé had been in a vegetative state after an accident. Then my parents adopted Sophie and arranged for her to marry him in my place later on. However, in just five years, she stole all the love everyone had for me. My brother and childhood friend pushed me down the stairs to make her happy. They carefully tried to please her, “Do you finally believe you’re the one we care about? Stop being mad, okay? Suddenly, my parents’ words were like cold water splashed on my heart. “We can’t bear to leave Sophie, so you should marry him instead.” I smiled faintly and calmly replied, “Okay.” Two weeks later, I decided to leave this city and sever all ties with them. “Fine. I’ll marry him!” When Emily Johnson said those words, a strange sense of relief washed over her. From the other end of the line came her parents’ cheerful voices.
“Emily, you’ve finally come to your senses. That fiancé of yours may be in a coma, but he’s still a looker. Plus, if he wakes up someday, he’ll inherit the family business…” Convincing their own daughter to marry a man in a vegetative state—and thinking she was getting a good deal—was probably a rarity in this world. Emily let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t worry. Since I’ve decided to marry him, I won’t back out. You don’t have to worry about having your precious Sophie take my place.” “How can you say that? You’re our real daughter! But honestly, your dad and I can’t bear to let Sophie go.” “And you know how William and Andrew feel about her. Having her marry him wouldn’t be right.” “The Miller family is already preparing the wedding. Emily, start packing. They’ll pick you up in New York in two weeks.” With that, her parents hurriedly ended the call. Emily stared at her phone as the screen dimmed, then turned her gaze to a framed photo on the desk.
Her parents, her older brother, and Andrew, her childhood friend—they surrounded the little girl in the center of the picture, dressed as a princess, with doting smiles on their faces. Back then, there was a popular saying in their social circle: “Who wouldn’t want to be Emily Johnson?” Everyone envied her—a girl cherished by loving parents, adored by an overprotective brother, and with a childhood sweetheart who only had eyes for her. Emily had believed she would always live such a blessed life. Until she turned eighteen. That’s when she learned she was bound by an arranged marriage. It was a deal her grandfather had made before he passed. But Emily, deeply in love with Andrew Davis, had always thought her family would call it off when she came of age. Then tragedy struck. James Miller, her fiancé, was in a car accident and fell into a coma. To avoid being branded as heartless or untrustworthy, the Johnsons had no choice but to uphold the agreement.
Yet sending their beloved daughter to care for a comatose husband? That was a line they weren’t willing to cross. So, they came up with a solution. They adopted Sophie Adams—a girl raised in an orphanage, who had lived on the streets—and planned for her to marry James in Emily’s place. Feeling guilty about the arrangement, they lavished Sophie with everything. Monthly allowances of hundreds of thousands of dollars, designer gifts, and endless attention from William and Andrew. Even Emily gave Sophie everything she asked for. Sophie wanted her room? Emily moved out. Sophie wanted her trophies? Emily gave them away. Sophie needed a kid//ney? Emily volunteered. But Sophie turned out to be ungrateful and manipulative. In just five years, she stole the spotlight and affection from everyone in the family. Her brother fell for Sophie.
Andrew fell for Sophie. Even her parents couldn’t stop singing Sophie’s praises, begging Emily to take the marriage instead because they “just couldn’t part with Sophie.” Emily didn’t want to break her promises or hurt her family. She’d hesitated because of her love for Andrew and her desire to stay close to her family. But now that they’d made their choice clear, she would honor the agreement. After all, the marriage had always been hers. Marking the date on her calendar, Emily circled it in red and wrote “LEAVE” beside it before heading upstairs. Just as she reached her room, the front door swung open. Standing there were her brother, William Carter, and Andrew Davis. They stormed up the stairs, and before Emily could react, they shoved her down. “Ahh!” Emily tumbled down the staircase, her head slamming into the floor.
Blood streamed down her forehead as pain shot through her entire body, leaving her in a cold sweat. Neither man moved to help her. Instead, they whipped out a phone to video call Sophie. “See, Sophie? We pushed Emily down the stairs just now. Do you finally believe you’re the one we care about? Please come home. Stop being mad, okay?” Hearing this, Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief as she lay in a pool of her own blood. They’d hurt her, not out of anger or hatred, but just to prove to Sophie she mattered more. On the screen, Sophie was crying tears of joy. “William, Andrew, I believe you now. I’ll come back. I promise.” Relieved, the men hung up and finally turned their attention to Emily. “Emily, are you okay? Sophie said she needed reassurance, so we had no choice. She’s just a kid. We couldn’t let her stay out there all alone.”
Before Emily could respond, Sophie called again, sounding as helpless as ever. “William, Andrew, I’m such a fool. I can’t even find my way home.” Worried for Sophie’s safety, the two men left without a second thought, glancing briefly at Emily. “Emily, Sophie’s lost. You can call an ambulance yourself, right?” And just like that, they left her behind. Lying on the cold floor, Emily was overwhelmed by searing pain. She barely managed to call for an ambulance. Blood from her head wound soaked into her clothes as she lost consciousness. Her last thought before everything went black? There’s no future here. In two weeks, she’d leave this city. And cut ties with everyone. When Emily opened her eyes, the room was shrouded in darkness. The emptiness of the hospital room felt heavier than her injuries. A bitter smirk tugged at her lips. A nurse stepped in, holding a clipboard. She gave Emily a quick rundown of her condition and left with a casual, “Settle the bill tomorrow and you’re good to go.” Emily nodded absently, her attention shifting to the phone buzzing incessantly on the table.
It was Sophie. Her messages were overflowing with photos—Andrew carrying her home, William in an apron cooking for her, both men showering her with affection. At Sophie’s feet sat piles of expensive gifts. “Emily, I can’t believe it! Andrew and William treat me like a princess. I’m the happiest girl in the world!” Emily stared at the screen blankly for a moment before setting the phone down. She didn’t reply to a single message. The next morning, she handled her discharge papers and went home. The scene that greeted her was nauseatingly familiar. In the living room, Sophie was perched on the couch between Andrew and William, the three of them watching a movie. Andrew handed Sophie a glass of iced tea, while William fed her fresh fruit. The floor where Emily’s blood had pooled the night before was spotless now. Not a trace of it remained. It was as if she’d never fallen. Emily clenched her fists and walked upstairs without saying a word.
Once in her room, she grabbed a cardboard box and began packing anything that held sentimental value—a lifetime’s worth of memories. When the box was full, she carried it downstairs and headed for the backyard. Minutes later, the unmistakable crackle of fire reached Andrew and William. They exchanged uneasy glances and hurried outside, stopping short when they saw Emily standing by the firepit, feeding items into the flames. “Emily!” Andrew’s voice was sharp. “What are you doing?” She ignored him. Reaching into the box, she pulled out a worn bridal veil. “Andrew,” she said, her tone icy. “you gave me this when we were kids. We were playing pretend, and you declared that I was your bride. You said this veil would be for our real wedding one day.” Before he could respond, she tossed the veil into the fire. “Emily, stop!” William shouted, but she didn’t even glance at him. She pulled out the next item: a simple wooden cross. “William, you gave me this when I was fifteen. I was sick all the time, and you were so worried. You said St. Mary’s Church was known for its blessings, so you climbed all the steps to the altar, knelt, and prayed for hours for my health.”
The cross joined the veil in the firepit. Then it was Andrew’s love letters. Then the glass slippers William had gifted her. Then the gown Andrew had bought her for a school dance. One by one, every piece of her past was consumed by the flames. Andrew couldn’t take it anymore. He stormed forward and grabbed her arm. “Emily, this has to stop! I get that you’re mad, but Sophie’s not like you. She doesn’t have the security you do.” “And soon, she’s going to have to marry James Miller in your place. Her happy days are almost over, and now you’re just making it worse for her!” William stepped closer too, his expression clouded with disappointment. “Emily, it was just a bump on the head. Sophie is about to give up her entire future for you, and this is how you repay her? She told us you were selfish, and honestly, I’m starting to believe her.”
Emily stared at them, her voice steady but hollow. “No. You’re wrong.” The firelight reflected in her cold eyes as she turned back toward the house. “I’m the one marrying James Miller. Not Sophie.” Neither man had a chance to respond before she disappeared inside, slamming the door behind her. The next morning, Emily found a stack of brightly wrapped gift boxes by the door. She didn’t need to open them to know who they were from. Andrew and William always tried to patch things up after upsetting her. William would camp outside her room, eyes red from lack of sleep, pleading for forgiveness. “Emily, if you don’t forgive me, I’ll stay here all night.” Andrew would show up with flowers and chocolates, looking utterly defeated. “Emily, please. Yell at me, punch me—just don’t keep it all bottled up.” But this time, they didn’t come.
Just the cold, lifeless gifts. Emily laughed bitterly as she carried them to the garbage bin. As she turned to head back inside, Sophie emerged from the hall, gasping in mock disbelief. “Oh no! You threw them out? You didn’t like their gifts?” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with fake concern. She placed a hand over her heart, her tone thick with self-pity. “I told Andrew and William you’d never settle for leftovers. I begged them to give you the best gifts, but they insisted I keep them.” “I mean, I’m just a poor, adopted girl, after all. You’re the real heiress, but somehow, they treat me better…” Emily smiled faintly, though her eyes were cold. “Congratulations, Sophie. The house is yours now.” Without waiting for a response, she walked back inside, leaving Sophie frozen in stunned silence. On Saturday, Emily made her way to Grace Church. She’d heard it was a place of miracles, so she decided to pray for her fiancé, James. He had once been a brilliant, accomplished man—a golden boy.
But a car accident had left him in a coma for five years. Now that she was set to marry him, their futures were tied. His joy was hers, his pain, too. Emily silently vowed to do everything in her power to help him wake up. If he didn’t… well, she’d still stand by him for the rest of her life. She climbed the stone steps toward the chapel, pausing every few feet to kneel and pray. Her determination was unshakable, each whispered plea rising like a soft hymn. “Dear Lord, please help my husband wake up. Let him be healthy and happy for the rest of his life. Please, Lord, hear my prayer.” Again and again, she repeated the words with heartfelt sincerity as she climbed higher. Halfway up, she spotted some familiar faces. Andrew and William were there too, their knees red and raw, blood soaking through their jeans. They were flanking Sophie, holding her steady as if she might topple at any moment. The three of them froze when they saw her, surprise flickering across their faces. Sophie clutched the two red strings around her neck, her eyes misty with tears. “Emily,” she said, her voice trembling. ” “Andrew and William heard this church was special, so they brought me here to pray. Look at their knees… they’ve been kneeling the whole way for me.” Emily didn’t even glance at her. She turned her focus back to the chapel, bowing her head once more before resuming her climb. “Please, Lord, let my husband wake.
Let his life be full of peace and joy. Please, Lord, hear me.” Her unwavering devotion left the trio stunned. William broke the silence first, grabbing her arm. “Emily, what are you doing? You’ve been pampered your whole life, and now you’re here, kneeling on stone steps like a martyr?” “Do you even realize how many steps there are to the top? Unless someone saved your life, no one is worth this kind of effort!” Emily looked at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “So, did Sophie save yours?” Andrew bristled, immediately snapping, “Sophie is different. She’s the most important person to me.” The words hit her like a blow. Years ago, at seventeen, Andrew had sworn she was the only one he’d ever love. Now that devotion was gone, replaced by a new “most important” person. Emily’s smile grew brittle, her voice trembling.
“I see. And that’s why the one I’m praying for… is the most important person to me.” She pulled her arm free, stepping away from them and continuing her journey upward. Andrew and William watched her, conflicted, before exchanging uncertain glances. For the first time, they ignored Sophie’s protests and followed Emily, staying a few paces behind. By the time they reached the top, the sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. Emily’s knees were raw and bleeding, the fabric of her dress stained dark. Yet she pressed forward, dragging herself to the altar. There, she picked up a ribbon and carefully wrote three letters on it: J.M. Andrew and William stared at the initials, their ch//ests tightening. J.M. Not William. Not Andrew. “Who is this?” Andrew demanded, his voice strained. Emily tucked the ribbon into a small leather pouch, only for Andrew to grab her wrist, his grip like iron. His face was a mask of fury. “I can deal with you praying for William, but who is this?!”