Julian's reaction was lightning-fast—there and gone, smoothed over with practiced ease. But the flicker in his eyes? That lingered. A seed of cold suspicion took root deep in Elara's chest, refusing to be ignored. She watched him now, the gentle curve of his lips as he talked, the familiar warmth in his gaze… yet beneath it all, a chilling unease coiled in her stomach. Why? The question pounded against her ribs. Vivian's name hadn't even been spoken. How could a simple bracelet make him flinch like that?
Lost in the tangled mess of her thoughts, her fingers found the cool metal of the bracelet, rubbing it absently as if it might hold answers. Her gaze drifted to his profile as he navigated the city streets. Afternoon sunlight caught the dark strands of his hair, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw. He looked perfect. Devoted. The ideal fiancé. But the disquieting feeling wouldn't leave—a sense that beneath his polished, jade-like exterior lay layers she couldn't penetrate, burdens he never shared.
The black G-Wagon rumbled to a stop, jolting Elara from her thoughts. She blinked. Outside, the whimsical, slightly faded gates of the city's oldest amusement park stood sentinel. A bittersweet ache washed over her, a hundred conflicting emotions churning inside. Our first date… The memory was both a balm and a blade.
A weekday chill kept the crowds away, leaving the park hushed and strangely intimate in its emptiness. Julian's hand found hers, his fingers warm and sure as he led her unerringly towards the carousel. The painted horses stood frozen mid-gallop, silent sentinels of a happier past.
"Remember our first date?" Julian's voice was soft velvet beside her ear. A gentle smile touched his lips as he looked down, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.
A lump formed in her throat, making her voice thick. "Hmm." How could she forget? After years of grief following her parents' deaths, he had been the light. He'd brought her back here, to this place of lost childhood magic. Right on this carousel, his hand had closed firmly over hers. "The path your parents couldn't walk with you? I'll walk it with you, Elly. I won't let go. Ever. Your guardian knight, remember?" The sweetness of that vow was etched into her soul, making the goodbye clawing its way up her throat feel like a physical rending.
"How about this?" he murmured, his thumb brushing a stray tear she hadn't realised escaped. "Every year on this day. Just us. Right here." He cupped her face, his gaze impossibly tender. "And someday…" he added, a hopeful glint in his eyes, "...we bring our kids too." He lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers—a kiss deep, gentle, and loaded with promises she knew she was about to shatter.
Elara's eyes fluttered shut, hot tears blurring her vision. End it. Just say it. The words screamed silently, trapped behind the dam of her guilt and his overwhelming affection. Another tear escaped, tracing a hot path down her cheek onto his fingers.
He mistook it for joy. His arms tightened around her, pulling her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Oh, Elly," he breathed, relief softening the tension she'd sensed earlier. He held her like she was his anchor, his world. For a moment, wrapped in the familiar scent and strength of him, the ground beneath her felt almost steady again.
They lingered until the late afternoon sun streaked the sky with soft pinks and oranges. They'd ridden a few gentle rides, and a healthy flush finally bloomed on Elara's pale cheeks, momentarily chasing away the shadows under her eyes. Back in the G-Wagon, Julian started the engine, a secretive smile curving his lips. "Hop in," he said, his voice warm with anticipation. "Got a surprise for you. You're gonna love it."
"Okay," Elara murmured, offering a fragile smile. She didn't ask questions. Letting him take the lead felt strangely final, like surrendering to the inevitable current. Her mind conjured quiet bistros or maybe the city overlook, but the car navigated confidently towards an exclusive, gated enclave of brand-new villas – the kind splashed across luxury magazines. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat.
The car stopped before an elegant villa, its courtyard meticulously landscaped even in the fading light. Curiosity briefly pierced her sorrow as she stepped out, taking in the modern lines. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her firmly against Julian's solid chest. His breath was warm against her ear, sending an unwanted shiver down her spine. "Remember that happy, warm home I always promised you, Elly?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "This is it. It's yours. All yours. Do you like it?"
Elara's body turned to stone. She twisted slowly in his embrace, her eyes wide and searching his face. Confusion warred with disbelief, all drowned by a crushing wave of guilt. A house? In my name? Now? The timing felt like a cruel cosmic joke. How? Why do this NOW?
Julian's smile faltered at her expression, a flicker of worry in his eyes. He grabbed her hand, his grip almost too tight, almost pleading. "Come on, let me show you," he urged, a note of desperate hope threading his voice. "Had it done just for you. Every single detail... picked with you in mind."
And it was. Painfully, breathtakingly perfect. Climbing roses waited to burst into spring colour in the courtyard. Inside was a masterpiece – minimalist yet warm, filled with light woods, soft textures, curated art pieces she'd adore, and quirky little ornaments tucked into corners that made her heart ache. The bedroom curtains? The exact elegant floral pattern she'd sighed over in a design magazine months ago. This wasn't just a house; it was her dream home, built with terrifyingly intimate knowledge and devotion. She loved it instantly, fiercely, and the knowledge that she was about to obliterate the man who'd created it for her was a physical agony.
"This place has been ready for months," Julian continued, gaining momentum as he gestured around the sunlit living room. "Move in whenever you want. The study?" He pointed. "Soundproof. Perfect for your writing, your meditation. And downstairs, a yoga room... for when you need to unwind..." He painted a vivid picture of their shared life within these beautiful walls, a future she knew was already ash.
"Julian…" Her voice was a ragged whisper, choked with unshed tears. The weight of her secret pressed down, suffocating. Tell him. Tell him everything. End it now.
"Elly," he cut in swiftly, his eyes softening, vulnerable. "Hey, no pressure. Okay? Just... think about it. Take all the time you need." He squeezed her hand. "Stay for dinner? I had it all set up..." The raw hopefulness in his gaze was a tangible weight, unbearable.
Sharp pain. Quick and clean, Elara commanded herself. Dragging it out is torture. But the sheer magnitude of his gift, the love poured into every brick and cushion, the profound guilt of her own betrayal – it drowned her resolve. One meal, she bargained desperately with herself. Just this one last dinner. Then it ends.
She hadn't expected the candlelight. Soft music, gleaming silver, sparkling crystal – it was a scene from a romance novel. Halfway through, Julian suddenly pushed his chair back. He dropped to one knee before her. The velvet box snapped open, and a diamond ring blazed, capturing every flicker of candlelight, dazzling and cold.
"Elly," his voice was rough, intense, filled with absolute conviction. "Marry me." He held her gaze, his eyes locking onto hers. "I know I'm not perfect. Got plenty of flaws. But I'll work on every damn one. For you. I want to be the husband you deserve. To love you, spoil you rotten, cherish you... every single day for the rest of my life." He reached up, his thumb gently brushing away a traitorous tear. "Sweetheart, don't cry," he murmured, his own smile trembling slightly. "Just say yes."
Elara's vision dissolved into a hot blur. Silent sobs shook her frame. She was paralysed, trapped between the horrifying abyss of her secret and the devastating, beautiful future he offered on his knee. Julian saw only overwhelming joy in her tears. Relief flooded his face, transforming into pure, radiant triumph. He carefully took her trembling left hand, the cool band of the ring poised to slide onto her finger, sealing a promise she couldn't possibly keep…
BRRRRIIINNNGGG!
The phone's shriek tore through the romantic haze like shattering glass. Julian's face darkened instantly, a flash of pure, unadulterated fury twisting his features. He ignored it, his focus laser-sharp on her finger, on completing the act.
"Answer it," Elara urged, her voice unnaturally high and tight. She yanked her hand back, instinctively curling her fingers into a fist so tight the diamond ring bit into her palm. The sharp sting was a tiny, brutal anchor in the emotional storm tearing her apart.
Julian's jaw clenched, annoyance flashing across his face. He pulled out his phone, and the second he saw the screen, his expression shifted – anger replaced by a grim, focused intensity that sent a fresh chill down Elara's spine. He stood abruptly. "Gotta take this," he muttered, already turning away, phone pressed to his ear as he strode towards the hallway. "What is it?"
Elara sat frozen. The ring felt like a live coal in her clenched fist. She stared at the empty space where he'd knelt just moments ago. The romantic candlelight suddenly felt cold, the soft music jarring. She barely registered the low murmur of his voice from the hall, the way his knuckles whitened around the phone, or the deep shadow that fell over his face when he thought she couldn't see.
Five agonising minutes crawled by. Each tick of an unseen clock echoed in the silence. When he reappeared, frustration warred with apology on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture strained.
"Elly," he started, his voice rough. "Massive crisis at the office. System meltdown. They need me now." He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "Wait for me? Please? I swear I'll be back before you know it. An hour, tops. Just... stay here." He looked around the beautiful room he'd built for her, then back at her, willing her to agree.
The request hung in the air. Elara looked at him – the man who'd just offered her his world, now pulled away by unseen demands. Guilt twisted sharply inside her, battling a strange, hollow sense of relief. A temporary reprieve. "Okay," she whispered, the word barely audible. She managed a tiny nod. "I'll wait."
Relief washed over him, visible in the slight slump of his shoulders. He leaned down, pressing a hard, quick kiss to her forehead. "Thank you. I'll fly." He grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and was gone. The heavy thud of the front door closing seemed to seal her inside a gilded cage of silence.
Alone. The grandeur of the villa felt suffocating. The half-eaten gourmet meal, the flickering candles, the soft music – relics of a future that wouldn't happen. Slowly, numbly, she uncurled her fist. The diamond ring lay in her palm, catching the light, winking coldly. It felt foreign. Heavy. A symbol of promises already shattered by the secret she carried. She stared at it, time dissolving into the oppressive quiet.
Outside, twilight deepened into full night. The villa's courtyard lights blinked on, casting long, lonely fingers across the floor. Elara flinched as her phone suddenly chimed, the sound jarringly loud in the stillness. She fumbled for it, her heart giving a painful lurch. An hour. He wasn't back.
A message notification glowed on the screen. Vivian's name.
Her thumb tapped the screen. The message loaded:
Vivian: Elly! SOS! ELY OMG SOS!!! DYING HERE!! Vomiting + diarrhoea ALL NIGHT. Can barely stand. Completely ALONE & idk who else 2 call. PLS COME!!! Need hospital NOW!!! 38th fl, 10 Meridian Ave. Code 0714. HURRY!!!!!
Panic sliced through Elara's numbness like a knife. Vivian. Her best friend sounded terrifyingly desperate. Needed her. Now. Julian, the villa, the ring—all vanished from her mind. She shot up from the table, the diamond momentarily forgotten on the polished wood before she snatched it up and dumped it carelessly into her bag. Grabbing her down jacket, she looped Julian's soft cashmere scarf around her neck on pure instinct. His familiar scent clinging to the fabric was a confusing, painful jab to her heart.
She burst out into the cool night. The exclusive neighbourhood was a tomb—silent, barely lit. Fumbling with her phone, she stabbed at the taxi app, cursing under her breath as it crawled. Come on, come ON!
Suddenly, blinding headlights swept around the corner. Elara stumbled back, throwing up a hand against the glare.
A sleek, obsidian Rolls-Royce purred to a stop inches from the curb. The driver's window slid down, revealing Ethan's sharp features and that ever-present, slightly knowing smirk. Mr. Thorne's driver.
"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here, Miss Hayes," Ethan drawled, his eyes scanning her anxious face with unnerving focus. "Bit late for a stroll. Need a ride?"
Elara's gaze darted past him to the dark, empty back seat. "Mr. Thorne…?"
"Relax," Ethan grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Solo mission tonight. Just wrapped up nearby. Hop in." He jerked his chin towards the passenger door. "Taxis? Forget about it this hour. You'll freeze out here."
Elara hesitated for half a heartbeat. Vivian's frantic text echoed in her mind. The Rolls was right here. "Ten Meridian Avenue," she blurted, yanking open the back door and sliding in. "Please. And hurry. It's an emergency."
"Hold tight," Ethan nodded, catching her wide, worried eyes in the rearview. As the Rolls glided away, a flicker of something—pity? understanding?—crossed his face. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Poor kid. Walking straight into hell.
Twenty minutes later, the Rolls whispered to a stop at the gleaming Meridian Avenue tower. "Thanks, Ethan!" Elara gasped, already shoving the door open before the car fully settled.
"Good luck, Miss Hayes," Ethan murmured, but she was already a blur, sprinting for the entrance, the heavy glass doors swallowing her whole.
She didn't pause. Didn't breathe. The elevator ascent to the 38th floor felt like an eternity trapped in a chrome coffin. Vomiting. Diarrhoea. All day. She must be dehydrated... weak... Should I have called an ambulance first? Vivian's gate code—0714—felt like the only lifeline left. Her trembling fingers punched it in. Just get to her. Help her.
The lock clicked with a soft, final sound. Elara shoved the heavy door open, her footsteps echoing too loud on the marble foyer tile. "Viv?!" Her voice sounded thin, strained in the sudden quiet. "It's me! I'm here! Where are you—?"
The words died, choked off in her throat.
First came the sound. A low, rhythmic groan. Unmistakable. Primal. Animal.
Then, the sight.
The plush living room sofa—the same one she'd curled up on just days ago, laughing with Vivian over lattes—was now a stage for her nightmare. Julian, her Julian, was sprawled half-reclined, head thrown back, tendons corded in his neck like steel cables. His hand, fingers splayed and desperate, dug into the bare curve of a woman's waist, knuckles bone-white with the force of his grip.
The woman. Vivian.
Facing the door.
Face flushed crimson, eyes squeezed shut in raw ecstasy, lips parted on a silent cry. Her thin white silk camisole was rucked down, straps tangled around her elbows, baring her shoulders and back completely. Her body arched, moving against Julian's in a sinuous, intimate rhythm that spoke of practiced familiarity.
The sounds crashed over Elara next—Vivian's sharp, gasping cries of pleasure, Julian's guttural, ragged panting—filling the luxurious apartment, slamming into her ears with the force of a physical blow.
BOOM.
The explosion wasn't outside. It was inside her skull. Every blood vessel felt like it ruptured. Her organs seemed to twist, tear, rip free from their anchors. Her knees gave way. Only the icy bite of the door handle under her white-knuckled grip kept her from collapsing.
No. No. NO. Not real. Can't be real. The denial screamed silently through the white noise filling her head. My Julian. And Vivian. Here. Now. Like ANIMALS? The sheer, grotesque horror of it paralysed her. Every tender moment with Julian, every secret shared with Vivian… desecrated. Reduced to this sweating, grunting obscenity on the sofa she knew so well.
Disgust—viscous, burning, overwhelming—surged up her throat. Hot, sour bile flooded her mouth. She gagged violently, clapping a hand over her lips as her stomach convulsed.
In that fractured second of silence—the grotesque soundtrack momentarily paused by her retch—Vivian's eyes snapped open.
They locked onto Elara's across the room.
Wide. Startled. Then flooding with a dawning horror that was too little, too late. Vivian's mouth formed a perfect, shocked 'O'.
And then—
SCREEEEEEEEEEE—
The sound that tore through the apartment wasn't Elara's shattered sob. It was Vivian's—a raw, high-pitched shriek of pure shock that shattered the obscene silence like glass. It ripped through the air, echoing off the vaulted ceilings, a brutal, discordant knife plunged straight into the heart of Elara's world.
Elara stood frozen in the doorway, Julian's scarf a suffocating noose around her neck, the taste of vomit sharp on her tongue, staring at the naked, undeniable truth of her annihilation as Vivian's scream—