Chapter 3
After a while, the sound of running water stopped.
Soon after, the bathroom door opened.
The mattress dipped on one side.
The lights went out.
The room fell into darkness.
I closed my eyes, making my breathing steady, pretending to be fast asleep.
But Julian could always see right through me.
He knew for sure I wasn't really asleep.
A long silence stretched out.
So long that I thought he'd fallen asleep.
Then, in the dark, his voice came slowly. "I know you're awake."
His voice was deep, scratchy from the alcohol.
I didn't move.
"Don't you have anything you want to ask me?" he continued.
I was quiet for a few seconds, then opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.
There were too many questions on my mind.
I wanted to ask him how life had treated him these past five years.
I wanted to ask him who that kid was outside the mall.
I wanted to ask him why he goes by Julian Winter.
I wanted to ask him if you still hate me.
But when the words reached my lips, I swallowed them all back.
When I finally spoke, my voice was calmer than I expected. "Congratulations on becoming the heir to Winter Group."
In the darkness, Julian let out a cold laugh.
"Yeah," he said. "Ms. Sumner, now that we're finally a good match, do I finally have the right to be your husband?"
I had no words for that.
I didn't want to explain because now he has a child, and mentioning what I gave up would seem like I'm seeking sympathy.
So I kept quiet.
Maybe my silence got under his skin.
Just as I was lost in thought, the covers were suddenly pulled back.
Julian moved right over me, bracing himself above, his presence overwhelming.
Before I could even react, he pressed down and kissed me hard.
His kiss tasted of alcohol and was forceful—nothing like the gentle ones from before.
Back then, his kisses were always soft and tender.
This time, though, his kiss was meant to punish me.
His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, breath burning my skin, hands tightening around me.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
In the stillness of the night, the ringtone sounded piercing and out of place.
He paused for a moment, but ignored it and kept going.
The phone rang for about ten seconds before finally stopping.
Not even three seconds later, it started ringing again.
Whoever was calling was really persistent.
Finally, he stopped and reached over to grab his phone from the nightstand.
I turned my head and saw the caller ID—Rosalie Ryan.
He glanced at the screen, got off me, and answered the call.
"Julian!"
It was a woman's voice, trembling with tears and urgency.
In the quiet room, her words rang out clearly.
"Natalie has a fever—103.6°F. I can't get a cab. Can you come help me?"
My heart skipped a beat.
Natalie, the little girl he carried in his arms that day.
Julian's voice softened.
I knew that softness too well. He used to talk to me that way.
"Don't panic," he comforted. "Try to cool her down—wipe her forehead and neck with a damp cloth. Just wait for me."
He sat at the edge of the bed, his tone gentle and reassuring, like he was coaxing a child.
I lay in the dark and slowly pulled the blanket up, straightening the clothes he'd rumpled.
When he finished, he ended the call.
He started getting dressed with hurried movements.
After that, he reached down for his shoes.
I spoke up. "If you're going to see other women, just be careful. Don't get caught on camera."
He froze.
"We're a strategic partnership," I continued. "At least on the surface, we need to keep up appearances."
He didn't say a word.
I couldn't see his face in the dark, but I could feel the air between us grow cold.
After a long silence, Julian let out a cold laugh.
"Right. Between us, there's nothing but mutual benefit."
He practically spat out the word "nothing."
Then he picked up his phone and dialed a number.
"Leo, take my car to Bayview Gardens and get Natalie and Rosalie to the hospital."
After hanging up, he lingered for a moment.
I thought he was about to leave.
He turned back and walked over to the bed.
The mattress dipped again.
He pulled back the covers and moved over me again.
I tried to push him off, but there was no way I could compete with his strength.
I shoved twice and didn't move him an inch. He caught both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head.
"Mutual interests," he whispered, his lips right against my ear, his voice rough. "We need something to bind our partnership together."
He loosened the belt of my bathrobe.
He leaned in, again and again.
There was none of his gentle touch or cautious foreplay from before.
All that was left was raw instinct and hunger.