Chapter 53: You’re Not Leaving Tonight?

Julian didn’t spare Cora a glance. He sat down and started eating like she wasn’t there.

Unbelievable. She fumed in silence—until the roasted chicken breast on his plate caught her eye. It smelled indecently good. She nudged her fork toward the edge for a taste, and his hand shot out, stopping her cold.

“Your system’s running hot,” he said, cool as ice. “No meat.”

He actually snapped at her.

Cora dropped the fork and pushed to her feet. “I’m done. Enjoy. I’m going for a walk. The doctor said I need fresh air and movement—it’s good for the baby.”

“It’s dark,” Julian replied lazily. “No sun to soak up.”

“Then I’ll ‘soak up’ the moon.”

He set down his cutlery and looked up at her. “You really want that walk?”

“Yes.” Anywhere that wasn’t within arm’s reach of him.

“Fine.” He rinsed his mouth with the tea Austin handed over and rose. “I’ll go with you.”

You’ll what? Cora stared, speechless.

“If it’s doctor’s orders, we do it right.” He reached for her elbow.

“Wait.” She slipped free. He was acting… off. This morning he’d been perfectly normal. By noon, he was someone else.

“What?” He frowned. “Didn’t you want a walk?”

Alone, she wanted to say. But she swallowed it. Roof over your head, Cora. Smile and nod.

“It’s nothing. You’ve had a long day. Eat. I’ll just stroll.”

“Is that so?” His mouth tilted, gaze holding on her face—on her eyes—until she caved.

“Fine, fine. Let’s go,” she muttered, tugging him toward the hall.

He followed, unhurried, Austin ghosting after them without a sound. Only when they’d cleared the inpatient wing and reached the quiet curb did Cora stop short.

Julian came to stand beside her. “Why’d you stop?”

She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. “What do you actually want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—what do you want me to do?” The words came out thin and brittle.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he talked about work, voice slow and unbothered. “After you left, the chairman asked me back. We signed. Ten years. It’ll bring in significant annual profit. We’re expanding the Korea division—more headcount, more capacity. They’re also conferring a kind of ambassadorial honor on Watson’s subsidiaries there.”

Cora blinked. That’s… great. Then she remembered his earlier line—My business doesn’t need your interference—and clamped her lips shut.

“Mrs. Han asked me to thank you,” he added. “We won’t have time to see the places you mentioned this trip. Next time, she wants you as their guide.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Cora said quietly. “Once the baby’s born, our contract is over.”

He breezed past that like she hadn’t spoken. “Grandmother’s pleased. She approved your request—you can go home in three days.”

Cora’s head snapped up, eyes bright as stars. “Really? I can actually go?”

Without thinking, she grabbed his hand, all hope and heat.

Julian looked down at the small fingers wrapped around his. He liked her touching him more than he should. “Mm,” he said, letting it stretch into a promise, then—because he couldn’t help himself—added, “After you finish three days of injections. Then you go.”

Three days wasn’t long. She’d make it work. Count your cash, plan your drop. Leave enough for Mom so the old witch can’t squeeze her dry. Cora was already calculating when she realized she was still holding his hand. She yanked back, flustered.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “Really. And, um—go home early. I should rest.”

“Mm.” He didn’t move.

Cora opened her mouth to nudge him again, but Austin finally made himself known. “Mr. Watson, the room’s been re-set. You can rest.”

Re-set? Cora frowned.

“Still walking?” Julian asked.

God, no. The anger had burned off. The promise of home had cooled everything else. She spun and headed back inside, happy steps, steady breath. Julian followed, measured and quiet.

She pushed open her door—and stopped dead.

She checked the room number. Checked again.

Same room.

Completely different space.

The sterile single hospital bed was gone, replaced by a king-size with snow-white linens. The furniture had shifted; soft lamps warmed the corners. It looked less like a ward and more like a boutique suite.

Cora turned slowly to Julian.

He gave Austin a nod, and the staff flowed out, the door whispering shut behind them.

“Wait—” She planted herself in Julian’s path, arms out, staring at him in horror. “You’re not telling me you’re sleeping here tonight.”

“What else?” His mouth curved.

“This is a hospital. A patient’s room.”

“I’m aware.” He was almost patient. “The chairman and his wife are still in town.”

…Oh. Image maintenance. Stay in character. Newlyweds, inseparable. The ink on the contract was barely dry; no point handing their enemies a rumor.

“Commit to the bit,” he said simply, and walked past her toward the bathroom.

Commit to the— Fine. It made sense. Over-the-top, but sensible.

The shower came on. A minute later he emerged, hair damp, phone at his ear. “What? …Noted.” He ended the call, flipped open his laptop at the desk, then glanced back at her.

He tossed her his towel. “Dry it.”

Cora stared at the towel in her hands, then at the man who’d moved into her hospital room like it was the most natural thing in the world.

So that’s it, then, she thought, jaw tightening. He didn’t relocate to cuddle. He relocated to be… served.

She stepped behind him anyway, lifted the towel, and set to work—gentle, efficient, the way a woman does when she’s decided not to give a man the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.