Chapter 86: Does It Make You Happy to Hurt Me?

Cora opened her mouth to speak, but Julian didn’t give her the chance.

His hand pinned her wrists, his leg trapped her lower body, and the heat of his breath crashed against her skin.

“Julian—”

He didn’t stop. His touch was rough, demanding—everywhere at once, setting fire to every inch of her. Desperation twisted through her chest. Just yesterday everything had been fine. How had it come to this the moment they returned to Lindon City?

She hadn’t known Julian could touch like this—cold fury disguised as seduction. His kiss stole her air, his rhythm deliberate and merciless.

“See?” His voice was low, cruel. “Your body tells the truth even when your mouth lies.”

Go to hell, she wanted to scream, but her voice caught in her throat.

Her body trembled under his, helpless to the storm he unleashed. Julian looked down at her flushed face—her skin still pink from the bath—and something in his eyes shifted, softened.

She’s mine, he thought. She’s only ever going to be mine.

The air was heavy, charged, the kind of silence that follows thunder.

When it was finally over, Cora lay still, trembling, her throat raw from words she never said. Shame and confusion tangled inside her. He’d been careful—painfully careful, afraid to hurt her or the baby. And somehow that made it worse.

Her mind flashed back to the night she’d gone into the wrong room—the night everything between them had started. He had been gentle then too. And now, even when he was angry, that same gentleness slipped through, uninvited.

A strange ache pulsed in her chest.

When her assistant came in quietly, Cora grabbed her wrist. “Call the doctor.”

“The doctor’s already here, Mrs. Watson.”

Cora hesitated. “Where’s Julian?”

The assistant looked down. “Mr. Watson… he’s in the study.”

Cora’s jaw tightened. That bastard. He could leave right after what he’d done—as if nothing had happened?

She dressed quickly and stormed down the hall. The door to the study wasn’t even closed.

Inside, a woman’s voice, bright and flirtatious, spilled out:

“Jule, you finally remembered me? Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”

Julian’s reply was low and unreadable. “Mm.”

Cora froze. Her heart stopped for a beat.

That voice—soft, teasing, intimate.

And he didn’t stop her.

Julian, what are you doing?

You just left my bed. And now this?

Her hand fell away from the door. The numbness spread from her chest outward until her whole body felt hollow.

Her throat burned. Her eyes stung.

It’s just because he forced you. That’s why you’re upset, she told herself.

But the lie didn’t hold. The pain was too real.

Her assistant appeared again, hesitant. “Mrs. Watson—”

Cora quickly wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll see the doctor.”

She turned and walked away before her voice could crack.

The doctor examined her carefully and smiled. “You and the baby are both perfectly healthy, Mrs. Watson. Moderate intimacy during mid-pregnancy can actually be beneficial.”

Cora let out a short, humorless laugh. Beneficial?

Was it still called “intimacy” when he walked away right after?

Footsteps approached. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Julian stopped at the doorway. His tone was clipped, impersonal.

“I won’t be back tonight. Go to bed early.”

And just like that, he was gone again.

Cora stared after him, her chest tightening until she could barely breathe.

What is this between us?

He forces himself on her, then walks out like she’s a stranger.

She didn’t answer him. Maybe he didn’t expect her to.

At the door, Julian paused, waiting—hoping for something, anything. Her silence pressed against his back like a slap.

So she hated even touching him now?

His jaw set. The door slammed behind him.

Cora flinched at the sound. Then slowly, she went back upstairs.

The bed had been stripped and remade. The scent of detergent and clean linen filled the room. She lay down, staring at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.

Or worse—the woman’s voice in his study.

She gave up, reached for her phone to distract herself.

A notification lit up the screen.

A photo. Blurry, grainy—but unmistakable.

Julian, sitting at a bar, a woman beside him. Their heads bent close over drinks.

Cora’s breath hitched. Her eyes burned again, hot and furious.

She tossed the phone aside and pressed her arm over her face, but the tears came anyway.

—

Across the city, Julian sat at a dimly lit bar, the glow of neon cutting across his face. His patience was razor-thin.

“Alright,” he snapped. “I’m here. Tell me what you know. What’s going on between Cora and Liam?”

The woman beside him turned slowly, smiling like a cat that had cornered its prey.

“Dina,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing.

“Jule,” she purred, her voice syrup-sweet. “You came.”

He stood immediately, disgust clear in his expression.

But her next words stopped him mid-step.

“Don’t you want to know what they talked about tonight?”

Julian’s hands clenched.

“Sit,” she said softly, sliding a glass toward him. “One drink. That’s all I ask. After that, I’ll tell you everything. You know Liam—he’s not an easy man to get close to. If they shared secrets tonight, you’ll never find out otherwise.”

Julian hesitated. Fury warred with curiosity—then curiosity won.

He took the glass. Their eyes met as the rims clinked.

From the corner of the room, a hidden phone camera flashed—one perfect shot of them together.

“Jule,” Dina whispered, voice trembling with practiced emotion, “do you really care about Cora that much? Isn’t she just supposed to give the Watsons an heir? Once the baby’s born, let her go. Then you and I… we can start over. I can’t live without you.”

She reached for his face.

Julian caught her wrist and flung it aside. His voice was ice.

“Careful, Dina. My patience has limits.”

If she wanted to play games, he would end them himself.

Her face twisted with fury. “Fine,” she hissed. “You want to know the truth? Then I’ll tell you everything.”