Chapter 28: Learning to Be a Lady of the House
When she smiled, she was radiant.
Far more beautiful than in any photo he’d ever seen.
The photographer had missed it completely. If he had taken the picture—
Julian stopped himself. What am I thinking?
He wanted to photograph her? Ridiculous. Even Dina—his most indulged ex—had never been granted that luxury.
Cora certainly hadn’t earned it.
He crushed the thought, tightened his jaw, and walked inside.
Austin followed quietly behind.
⸻
Cora froze mid-twirl at the sound of the door.
She turned—and her smile vanished.
Julian stood in the entryway, watching her.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
He was supposed to be in Germany—an ocean away.
The watering can slipped from her hand. Water pooled across the marble floor, sparkling under the sunlight.
Julian’s gaze dropped—bare feet, pale toes against the tile—and for one brief, treacherous second, his throat went dry.
Austin set down the luggage, bowed slightly, and vanished without a word. He knew when to disappear.
Cora was still frozen.
She knew the flight distance to Germany; she’d checked it last night. At least two days round trip. So why was he back already?
Julian read the confusion on her face and felt something dark twist in his chest.
She looked… disappointed.
Was she unhappy to see him?
The idea hit harder than it should have.
“Dressed like that?” His voice turned sharp, cold. “That’s how you take care of a child?”
Cora blinked, startled. “It’s hot, and the sun felt nice. Besides, I thought I was alone—”
“I told you the new staff would arrive this morning,” he cut in. “Is this how you greet them? Half-dressed?”
The thought of anyone else—especially the male staff—seeing her like this sent a surge of anger through him. If Austin hadn’t had the decency to step out, Julian might’ve fired him on the spot.
His wife, in his shirt, singing barefoot on a balcony. The image burned itself into his mind.
He snapped, “Don’t confuse your position. You enjoy the Watson privileges—try not to behave like a tramp while you’re at it.”
The words were ice.
Cora’s fingers tightened around her towel. So this was how he saw her.
Of course.
She lowered her head and said quietly, “I understand. It won’t happen again.”
Julian stared at her back, uneasy. The anger that had flared so easily now tangled with guilt. He hadn’t meant it like that.
He’d only wanted to… what? Warn her? Protect her?
Why did every sentence twist itself into something cruel?
He yanked off his tie, frustrated. He’d refused Austin’s suggestion to rest overnight, insisting on a return flight instead.
And for what? To come home and… yell?
He didn’t even know anymore.
⸻
Upstairs, Cora forced a smile at her reflection. It looked worse than crying.
Why was it that every time she faced him, joy just… vanished?
Maybe because every humiliation in her life somehow traced back to him.
She changed into proper clothes and headed downstairs.
A small crowd was gathered in the foyer.
“Madam.”
They bowed in unison.
Cora blinked. Madam?
Julian was nowhere in sight.
A woman in her fifties stepped forward, posture perfect. “Good morning, Madam. I’m Zhang, house-manager assistant. Master Julian assigned us to your service.”
Cora looked around. There were at least a dozen people.
“All… for me?”
“Yes, Madam. This is the standard Watson household arrangement.”
Zhang listed them calmly: “One personal maid, one chef, two cleaners, four gardeners, two drivers, four bodyguards, and myself as assistant to the butler. Two nutritionists will arrive later this week for your diet plan.”
Cora’s jaw dropped. She’d spent her life serving others—now she was being served by an army.
Zhang continued, “As Watson’s lady, you have access to all family estates. Each has its own staff. This villa was personally gifted by Madam Watson Sr., hence today’s personnel handover.”
Cora nodded slowly. “I see. You may… continue your work.”
The group dispersed efficiently. She still felt like she was dreaming.
I’m really the Watson wife.
Once abandoned by the man she loved—now married into power she never imagined. Life was absurd.
⸻
Footsteps on the stairs.
Julian appeared, freshly dressed, calm as ever.
“Zhang.”
She appeared within seconds, hands clasped. “Yes, Master Julian.”
“For the next two days, teach Madam how to manage the household. Properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
He didn’t spare Cora a glance as he passed.
Her jaw tightened. Was it his indifference that stung—or the implication that she needed lessons to qualify for her own life?
“Madam,” Zhang said gently once Julian left, “we’ll begin after breakfast—table etiquette, social conduct, afternoon tea service at four, and piano in the evening. Dancing is unsuitable during pregnancy, so we’ll substitute with music training.”
Cora nearly groaned aloud. Seriously?
By noon, she was convinced that being a rich man’s wife was a full-time job.
Still, Zhang’s patience—and age—softened her resistance. Cora stuck with it.
By evening she was exhausted, but she’d learned enough not to embarrass herself next time Julian dragged her to one of those formal dinners.
When he came home, he paused in the doorway.
Cora sat at the piano, frowning in fierce concentration, stiff fingers hitting the wrong notes again and again.
Zhang sighed. “That’s enough for today, Madam. You’ve worked hard.”
Cora shook her head. “I’ll practice once more. He’s not back yet.”
“Master Julian.”
The maid at the door’s soft call made Zhang turn and bow immediately. Julian handed her his briefcase and crossed to the piano.
Cora froze. Already?
He sat beside her, close enough that she caught his cologne.
“Relax,” he murmured, taking her hands. “You’re too tense. That’s why it sounds mechanical. Watch.”
He released her fingers and played.
The notes rolled out—smooth, precise, elegant.
Cora didn’t even like him.
But watching him play, she couldn’t deny it—Julian Watson was infuriatingly, effortlessly graceful.