Chapter 34: The Man Who Could Rival Julian

When Julian didn’t smile, he was already dangerously handsome.

When he did—it was a biological weapon.

The ripple effect was instant: gasps, fluttered lashes, one or two women nearly walking into each other. Julian’s expression iced over immediately. One cold glance, and the flock scattered.

Cora, oblivious, continued eating.

The buffet was heaven.

Finally—no one hovering, no one forcing her to “try this.”

No Julian reminding her of nutrition balance or some imported soup that made her gag.

Tonight, she could eat like a free woman.

Halfway through demolishing her plate, noise surged from the entrance. People were flooding toward the door, whispering, adjusting ties, smiles sharpening. Someone important.

Cora glanced once, then shrugged. Whoever it was, it wasn’t her problem. She still had salmon skewers and tiny éclairs to finish.

When she finally set her fork down, she realized her stomach had risen into a small hill. She rubbed it, wincing. Did I just eat for three? Pregnancy hunger was real.

Before guilt could set in, she decided to “walk it off.”

Everyone else was crowded near the main hall. Perfect. She could sneak outside.

The garden smelled of jasmine and something expensive she couldn’t name. She strolled slowly, one hand on her full belly. The night air was cool, clean. Better than air conditioning, she thought, inhaling deeply.

A vine arched above her—tiny white blossoms glowing under the lights. Cora tiptoed, stretching to touch one, but it stayed just out of reach.

“Jasmine,” a male voice said behind her. “Unpretentious, but radiant. It suits you.”

She froze, startled. Someone else had escaped the ballroom?

When she turned, her eyes met a tall man with striking green irises—the kind of color you only saw in photographs. His aura was warm, almost disarming, the opposite of Julian’s sharp-edged intensity. For a moment she squinted, puzzled. He looked familiar.

“Qara…?” The man blinked, correcting himself quickly. “No—sorry. It’s you.”

Cora tilted her head. Do I know him? That voice…

“Do you… know me?” she asked carefully.

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. “We met this morning. You don’t remember? You were in the car I rear-ended. I left my card—Liam. Liam Mayer.”

Recognition hit. “You!” Her eyes widened. “So you did come to pay for the damage!”

Liam stared at her, caught between laughter and disbelief.

Most women who learned his name either swooned or started performing charm calculus in real time.

This one? Demanding compensation.

“You really are something,” he murmured, smiling. “And you are…?”

Cora opened her mouth, about to reply—then her phone rang. Julian’s name flashed on screen. Her blood chilled.

“Sorry!” She fumbled her clutch. “I have to go—work thing—uh, don’t forget to pay for the car!” She was already halfway down the path before he could respond.

Liam stood where she’d left him, watching her retreating figure with a look that mixed confusion and intrigue. “Extraordinary,” he muttered. “She even sounds like her.” His voice dropped, darker now. “Qara or not, I’ll find out. And if fate’s replaying itself… I won’t lose her twice.”

—

Inside, Julian spotted her instantly the moment she returned. He’d been scanning the room for ten solid minutes, irritation growing by the second. Seeing her pop up again—cheeks flushed, hair slightly mussed—made something in his chest unclench and tighten all at once.

“Where were you?” His tone dropped several degrees.

“Uh… ate too much,” she admitted honestly. “Went for a walk.”

His gaze slid to her stomach, as if verifying. Little mole really can eat.

“Fine. We’re done here,” he said curtly, already turning toward the exit.

“Done?” Her eyes lit up. “We can leave?”

He didn’t answer, but she didn’t wait for permission—she scurried up beside him, looping her arm through his. If she was smart, she’d stay attached; being left behind in this social jungle was death.

The sudden cling made him pause, glance down. His annoyance evaporated. A smile—rare, genuine—pulled at his lips.

She didn’t notice; she was busy calculating how quickly she could get out of her heels once they were home.

At the door, their car was already waiting. Julian opened the passenger side. Cora slipped in first, relieved. The moment the doors shut, the world outside dimmed.

He started the engine, and the car glided through the city lights. In the passenger seat, Cora’s head slowly tilted toward the window, breath evening out.

Julian saw it in the mirror—her face slack with sleep, soft and peaceful.

His foot eased off the gas. The speedometer needle fell.

He used to love fast driving.

Now, with her beside him, even silence and slow felt… right.