Chapter 17: The Real Her
Laura’s jealousy burned so fiercely she could hardly breathe.
Cora had ruined her engagement, stolen her spotlight, and somehow ended up with a man straight out of a fantasy. If not for the guests still present, Laura might have clawed that “perfect man” away just to see if she could.
Inside, Madam Yoon and Ravi were already deep in discussion about wedding logistics.
When they finally finished, Madam Yoon turned to Cora’s mother.
“Does the bride’s mother have anything she’d like to add?”
Before her mother could open her mouth, Ravi cut in sharply.
“She? What can she possibly add? I’m the head of this family. I’ll speak for her.”
Cora’s mother stood there, silent, small, and invisible—as though her opinions had never mattered.
Cora glanced at her and saw the shimmer of unshed tears in her mother’s eyes.
Her chest tightened.
In this house, they had always been the ones with no voice, no weight, no right to decide their own fate.
Julian must have noticed something in her expression. His gaze shifted toward her, softer for a moment.
She looked pale, strained—too quiet for someone about to become a bride.
He didn’t know why that sight bothered him.
Taking a breath, Cora forced herself to smile. “Jule, it’s your first time in town, isn’t it? Let me show you around a bit.”
Julian stood at once. “All right.”
“Yes, good idea,” Madam Yoon said approvingly. “Go with her. We can handle the rest here.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
Cora rose, bowed politely, and gestured toward the door.
They stepped out together—one tall, one slender—followed by a small procession of assistants and servants who trailed like shadows.
Julian spoke first, without turning. “If you have something to say, say it here.”
Cora glanced at the line of people behind them and lowered her voice. “Come inside for a minute. It’s easier to talk privately.”
To her, it was just practical. But in Julian’s ears, it sounded almost like an invitation.
His lips twitched upward. “As you wish.”
⸻
Cora pushed open the door to her room.
Julian paused on the threshold, momentarily caught off guard.
The space was small, worn, and old—but spotless.
The faint scent of soap and sun-dried cotton lingered in the air.
On the desk stood a cheap picture frame with a photo of a younger Cora—smiling brightly, arms wrapped around a stuffed toy, eyes full of light.
Julian’s gaze lingered there far longer than he meant to.
When Cora noticed, she rushed forward and flipped the frame face down, voice tight with embarrassment.
“The Watson family doesn’t have to give me so much money. Even if you do, I’ll never see a cent of it.”
Julian chuckled. “The money isn’t so easy to take. It goes to you only after the wedding and the birth. After that, what you do with it is up to you.”
Relief washed over her features.
At least the money would land in her hands first—before her grandmother could sink her claws into it.
Julian’s attention drifted to a small wooden shelf by the wall. On it were her university graduation photo and certificate, both framed with care.
The girl in the picture—laughing under the sunlight, cap slightly askew—was radiant.
He reached out, almost absently, to take the photo down.
Cora moved fast. She snatched it from his fingers and clutched it to her chest, glaring up at him.
“Don’t touch that!”
Julian looked down at her, momentarily stunned.
It was the first time he’d seen her like this—angry, flustered, alive.
Her brows knitted, nose scrunched, lips pressed tight—like a cornered cat puffing up to look fierce.
Unexpectedly, he smiled.
So she does have fire.
He’d only ever seen her cry, smile faintly, or remain expressionless.
But this—this spark—was something else entirely.
Dina had always smiled the same polished, practiced smile no matter the situation.
Cora’s face, in contrast, was alive with emotion—unguarded, human.
Julian’s curiosity deepened. “That photo means a lot to you?” he asked, voice casual. “It’s just a graduation picture, isn’t it? Everyone has one. Or… was the photographer someone special?”