Silence stretches between us.
The waiter approaches instinctively. Julian lifts a hand, dismissing him without breaking eye contact with me.
“I am not for sale,” I continue, heart pounding now. “Not as a wife. Not as a solution. Not an unfeeling participant in having your children.”
“That’s not...”
I stand on shaky legs, trying my hardest not to make a scene, but feeling like I need to run, get out of here.
“You don’t get to decide what I can live with,” I interrupt. “Or what I should sacrifice because my life is harder than yours.”
He stands, too, but he doesn’t block me. Doesn’t reach out.
“I’m offering security.”
“You’re offering control,” I counter. “Wrapped in the illusion of kindness.”
I pick up my bag.
“You picked the wrong woman,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t stop me.
That almost hurts more.
I walk out without looking back, heart racing, lungs tight, the echo of candlelight and music following me into the cold night.
But my heart doesn’t slow down until I’m three blocks away, standing under a streetlight, breathing cold air into lungs that feel too tight.
I don’t know what scares me more.
That he thought this would work.
Or that for one terrifying second, a part of me wondered what it would feel like if it did.
Chapter 13 - Julian
The penthouse is silent when I get home.
Not peaceful. Not calm.
It reminds me of the boardroom after someone says no,and everyone is holding their breath to see how I will react.
I drop my keys on the console table, shrug out of my coat, and loosen my tie without turning on more than the ambient lights. The city stretches beyond the windows, Chicago glowing, restless, alive. Purpose everywhere.
Inside, everything is still.
I pour a drink. Scotch. Neat. I don’t sit.
Instead, I replay the evening the way I would any failed negotiation.
Chronologically. Clinically.
The restaurant had been right, a controlled neutral ground disguised as romantic. But she had clocked it, and I am beginning to think that Lucy Bennett notices everything.
Mistake one: I let the conversation breathe too long before pivoting.
I allowed comfort to settle. Familiarity. Safety.
