Chapter 11
559words
Initially, he felt nothing but relief. His feelings for Clara were barely budding—forgetting her would be easy.
But then the dreams started. Night after night, she haunted his sleep.
In these dreams, she'd call his name with that soft smile, nestle against his neck, and ramble about her day in that animated way of hers.
She'd paint stories with her words, and he'd find himself genuinely laughing—something he rarely did anymore.
Then he'd wake to cold sheets and an emptiness that seemed to swallow him whole.
After countless nights of this torture, the truth finally hit him: he'd fallen in love with Clara.
Isabelle? Those feelings had died long ago. His kindness to her was nothing but guilt payments on an old debt.
He set his best people on finding Clara, but she'd disappeared like smoke.
Until fate threw her in his path in Chicago.
The sight of Clara sent a jolt of joy through him. But then he remembered how she'd demanded that divorce, and bitterness flooded back. When she smiled professionally and said, "Mr. Vance, let me escort you and your family to the hotel," something inside him cracked.
Had she truly erased him from her heart? How could she so casually refer to him and Isabelle as a "family"?
If she wouldn't acknowledge their past, he'd make damn sure she couldn't ignore him now. He deliberately cut her down, and even knowing Isabelle had caused the wine spill, he publicly humiliated Clara anyway.
Before, whenever he'd chosen Isabelle, Clara's pain had been written all over her face. Now she looked at him with professional detachment—like he was just another client. Her indifference terrified him.
He was petrified that Clara had completely excised him from her heart.
So when he heard Sophie call Clara "Godmother," his heart leapt. If she'd kept their child, didn't that mean she still loved him?
But anger quickly followed. How dare she hide his daughter from him? Didn't she know children needed both parents?
He confronted her directly. Clara denied everything.
Julian couldn't—wouldn't—accept her denial. He needed that child to be the bridge back to Clara, the excuse to rebuild what they'd lost.
But Clara's logic was irrefutable. He'd pushed her down those stairs. He'd rushed her to the hospital. If she'd been pregnant, the doctors would have told him.
He'd been wrong. There was no child.
His heart plummeted. Without a child connecting them, what reason did he have to be in her life?
How could he possibly win her back?
While he floundered for a plan, reality delivered a knockout punch.
Clara was pregnant.
She had a fiancé.
And she was clearly head over heels for the guy.
Julian burned with jealousy—of this Ethan character, and of his own past self.
He'd once had Clara's complete, unconditional love, and he'd treated it like garbage. She'd desperately wanted his child, and he'd forced contraception down her throat. If he'd said yes back then, they might now be a happy family of three. How could he have been so blind?
Regret consumed Julian like a cancer.
He knew he owed Clara a mountain of debt. Winning her back would be nearly impossible.
But he had to try. If she'd give him even the slimmest chance, he'd walk through fire for her.
