Chapter 4
453words
Given a choice, he'd never have chosen me as his bride.
But his startup was being crushed in my father's hostile takeover, teetering on bankruptcy. I convinced Daddy to convert the takeover into a "strategic investment"—on the condition that Julian marry me and stay on as CEO.
Our marriage was purchased with his pride.
After the wedding, I leveraged every family resource and connection to help Julian rebuild. With his brilliance and drive, he became the business world's golden boy in just five years.
By then, my father's empire was crumbling.
Terrified he'd ditch me once he had options, I became pathetically accommodating. I didn't even protest when he insisted on "helping" Isabelle after her divorce from her allegedly abusive husband.
Even though each time he abandoned me for them, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
I remember my 25th birthday with crystal clarity. I'd just cut the cake and handed Julian a slice when Isabelle's call lit up his phone.
"Julian, my daughter won't stop crying. She only calms down for you. Please, can you come over?"
"Of course." Julian agreed without missing a beat.
"Do you have to go?" It was the first time I'd ever asked him to stay. "You promised we'd celebrate my birthday…"
He frowned, looking at me like I was some petulant brat. "Clara, don't be difficult. You're a grown woman. Why are you competing with a toddler?"
He walked out without a backward glance.
I sat alone, choking down birthday cake through my tears.
I was so blindly in love back then. Any thought of divorce would quickly morph into fantasies of having our own baby—surely then Julian would pay attention to our family.
But every time we were intimate, he was meticulously careful. After weeks of internal debate, I made a desperate decision: I'd poke a hole in the condom and beg forgiveness later.
My plan failed spectacularly. That night, my nervous excitement must have been obvious. Julian, ever perceptive, immediately checked the condom afterward and discovered my handiwork. His face turned to stone.
Terrified of his rage, I stammered: "I'm sorry! I just… I wanted so badly for us to have a baby together…"
His expression remained glacial. "We'll discuss children later. Isabelle's daughter needs attention right now, and she's struggling as a single mother. I don't have time for another child."
Then he pulled out emergency contraception from the nightstand, placed it on my tongue, and watched me swallow it.
I cried bitter tears but couldn't bring myself to ask if he still loved Isabelle. As long as I never heard the answer, I could keep living in my fantasy world.
