CHAPTER THREE:
Nicole checked the time again and it was 7:59 p.m.
She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the blue satin dress—the one Julian used to say made her look like she belonged in a mansion full of secrets and champagne. She hadn't worn it in a long time. Not since the silence between them had grown wider than their conversations.
Her hand brushed across her stomach, almost absently.
The test still sat in her drawer, tucked beneath scarves and perfume boxes.
At 8:04, the front door creaked open.
Julian stepped in, haloed by porch light, tie loosened, hair windblown like he'd rushed to get home—but not too rushed. He always moved like someone who believed the world bent to his will. And for a long time, it had.
He smiled when he saw her. A careful, practiced smile. "Wow. You didn't tell me we were dressing up tonight."
She returned it. "Felt like pretending for a bit for you after such a long time".
He laughed and leaned in to kiss her cheek. His lips barely lingered, unsure if he still had the right to stay too long. She kissed his jaw, then turned back toward the kitchen without waiting.
"Dinner smells amazing," he called behind her.
"Baked salmon. Lemon-thyme butter. Your favorite. You still like salmon, right?" "Of course," he chuckled, setting his briefcase down.
The wine was already poured. She slid his glass across the table when he sat.
His phone buzzed once, then again. Face-down on the table, but the screen lit up twice in the linen glow and he didn't touch it.
"You're quiet," she said casually.
"Long day."
She nodded. "New York beat you up?"
"Meetings back to back. Barely had time to breathe."
He said it the way he always did—just enough fatigue to sound convincing, just enough charm to be excused for anything. She twirled her fork between her fingers.
"Funny," she said. "Camille was asking about you. Wanted to know how the trip went." Julian raised a brow. "Camille's asking about me now?"
"She likes to stay updated," Nicole murmured. "And maybe she misses Kendra. It's been months since she's heard from her."
He looked up at that—just a flicker, a shift behind the eyes—before taking a long sip of wine. "Kendra's been busy. I'm sure she'll reach out."
"Hmm," Nicole said softly. "So... you didn't see her while you were away?" "Who?"
"Kendra."
He blinked. "Why would I?"
She smiled. "No reason."
He didn't ask again. And she didn't press. That was their rhythm now—two people pretending they still stood on the same side of the glass, even as the cracks deepened.
They ate quietly for a while. She watched him not obviously, but closely. He seemed a little off tonight. Like his body was here, but his mind was miles away.
"Julian," she said gently, "I've been thinking."
He looked up. "Yeah?" "I want to go back to work."
There it was, not a test, Just a truth.
He froze,—not dramatically, just the kind of stillness only people skilled at staying composed could manage. His jaw tightened once, but his expression didn't change.
"I thought we agreed you needed more time."
"I did," she said calmly. "Now I want to start again."
He picked up his glass, swirling it once. "What kind of work?"
"My kind."
He gave a tight smile. "You know it's not that simple. You left the firm. You can't just walk back in."
She leaned back in her chair. "Good thing I'm not asking for permission."
His smile stretched a little wider, cooler. "Of course not. I just want what's best for you."
Nicole tilted her head. "Do you?"
The question hovered around so sharp enough to draw blood and he didn't answer.
Later, when he excused himself to take a call—"Sorry, it's Marcus. Can't ignore the investors."—she waited until the door clicked shut behind him.
Then she rose, slow and silent, her pulse racing,she crossed to his study and saw that the password hadn't changed she noticed one new folder.
MERGER: N
Floor plans. Transaction history. Escrow schedules.
A property listed in his name only. A suburb she'd never heard of.
Not a shared purchase nor was it discussed..he did not even mentioned in passing.
The home was stunning and precised.
It didn't look like anything they'd ever talked about.
Her hands moved before her thoughts did.
She printed one page. Just one. Enough to hold something real when the truth finally shattered the surface.
She folded it and tucked it into a random book on the shelf and closed the laptop, fixed her hair in the hallway mirror and slid quietly back into her chair just as the study door creaked open again.
Julian stepped in, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Everything okay?" she asked.
He smiled. "Just work."
She smiled back. "Of course."
Across town, in the shadowed parking lot of a luxury apartment building, Julian leaned against his car and redialed.
The line rang once, then connected.
"Kendra," he said quietly. "She's starting to suspect."
"Did you tell her anything?"
"No," he said flatly. "She's smart, but she's emotional. She won't move without certainty."
"Don't underestimate her, Julian."
"I'm not. That's why we need to move up the timeline. I've got the documents ready. Just keep playing your part."
"And what if she finds out?"
His jaw clenched.
"Then I make sure she regrets it.