The Fake Marriage, the Real Mistress, and the Baby He Wants Me to Abort Chapter 9
Julian’s voice kept rising, filling the whole shop. I looked at him all that desperate regret pooling in his eyes – and almost laughed.
“Julian, after half a decade of lies – what part of you actually believes I’d forgive you?”
“You think a few apologies and some tears fix this?”
“What are you going to do about my ear, Julian? Can you make it grow back?”
“You sent me to a back-alley butcher to rip out our baby, and I nearly bled to death on the table. How do you make up for that?”
“You think you can just open your mouth and make it all disappear? Say the right thing and wipe the slate clean?”
“I will never forgive you. Not in this lifetime.”
“Stop tracking me down. Stop sending people after me. Just looking at you makes me sick.”
I said it all without raising my voice. Then I tried to pull free. His grip only tightened.
Something snapped. I grabbed the fruit I was holding and slammed it into his chest.
Mango, papaya, guava – bouncing off his head, his shoulders, bursting against the pressed black fabric of his suit. He looked pathetic.
“Julian, stop performing.”
“You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone. You never did.”
“The only person you’ve ever loved is you.”
I didn’t let him answer. I slapped him across the face.
I put every bit of strength I had into it. His head whipped sideways. He didn’t move. Didn’t lift a hand. Just took it.
I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard his knees hit the ground.
“Claire – one more chance. Please.”
“You told me once- remember? – that if you ever screwed up, you should get on your knees and beg.”
“I’m on my knees, Claire. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Forgive him? I almost smiled. I kept walking – across the shop, across the street – and I didn’t look back once.
Julian dragged himself to his feet and started after me. He made it three steps before his legs buckled. He went down on the pavement.
He fell into the road. The car didn’t have time to stop.
The car hit him head-on and dragged his body several yards down the asphalt.
“Oh my God – somebody help!”
“Call an ambulance!”
People swarmed around him, phones already in their hands, voices overlapping in panic.
“Sir, can you hear me?”
“Who should we call?”
Julian was flat on his back, blood bubbling from his mouth. He couldn’t hear them – couldn’t make sense of the words. His hand just kept lifting, pointing in the direction I’d gone.
“My wife…”
“My wife…”
A local who spoke English crouched beside him. “Your wife – she went that way?”
“What’s her name? How do we reach her?”
Julian’s lips moved, but nothing came out. His eyes rolled back, and he slipped under.
His fingers were clenched around something against his chest, shielding it even as consciousness left him – the marriage certificate. The fake one. The one he’d paid someone to forge.
The next time Julian came back into my life, I wasn’t looking for him. I was passing through Riverton on a layover, and his face was on every screen in the terminal – a live interview, playing across the entire airport.
He was in a wheelchair. Gaunt, hollowed out – half the man I remembered. The reporter wasn’t pulling her punches.
That was how I found out what had happened. Vance Enterprises was drowning – scandal after scandal, the whole empire splitting at the seams.
Julian’s father had a new mistress. Then a second. Then a third.
And his mother – once her cover was blown at the wedding, she stopped pretending entirely. She turned on Julian with everything she had.
She moved her lover and the twins into the Vance family mansion and started demanding that Julian carve up his inheritance to give her boys their share.
Julian was trying to use the interview to publicly cut ties with both his parents – a last-ditch move by a man with no cards left to play.
Then, near the end of the broadcast, someone delivered a box to the reporter’s desk.
She opened it on camera. Her expression froze.
“Mr. Vance, these were sent by a woman named Chloe.”
“She’s demanding compensation – and says if you don’t pay, these photos go public.”
The broadcast instantly went viral – clips flooding social media in seconds as millions tuned in, hungry for scandal.
Julian stared at the photos in his hands. Every trace of color drained from his face.
He shouted for someone to cut the feed. The screen went black.
I watched it go dark and felt – nothing. Like I’d just watched a stranger’s car crash on the evening news.
None of it was mine anymore.
I had a long life ahead of me, and it was full of doors I hadn’t opened yet. Julian and everyone circling his wreckage – they could have each other. I was done.