Chapter 93: Cora, Give Jule Back to Me

Julian didn’t think—he dove.

A woman’s body was sinking fast, limbs slack, hair fanning like dark ink. Dina had been practicing breath holds under the surface, oblivious to the two men racing above her. She’d broken for air at the worst possible second—and a powerful body had slammed into her from behind.

Can’t… move… flashed through her head as water rushed in.

Then a silvered shape knifed down: Julian.

Bubbles frothed from her lips—an accidental signal—and he surged, arms locking around her. He pivoted and drove them both up. Liam cut across and helped haul her onto the tile.

Julian’s gaze hit her face and stalled. “Dina?” He patted her cheek hard. “Hey. Wake up.”

“You know her?” Liam’s eyes narrowed, a quick glint passing through the blue. Instinct said this wasn’t some casual acquaintance.

Julian didn’t answer. He tilted Dina, pressing sharp compressions until a gush of chlorinated water spilled from her mouth. Dina coughed, shuddered—and collapsed forward into his arms.

Outside, Cora and Riley were mid-conversation when a staffer sprinted up, breathless. “Mrs. Watson—there was an accident at the pool. Mr. Watson—someone got hit. Do you want to—”

Cora’s blood went cold. “Is he—”

A wet, hacking sound echoed through the corridor. Then a voice she knew down to the bone broke into sobs.

Dina.

Cora shoved the door open.

She had one foot inside when Dina sat up and flung her arms around Julian’s neck. “Jule, I was so scared,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I thought I was going to die. Jule… you punished me already, okay? Don’t be angry anymore. Please—just forgive me.”

Cora froze as if someone had pulled a trigger inside her chest.

Riley stepped in behind her, took in the tableau, and said nothing.

Julian went rigid at the sound of Dina’s voice. The instant he registered who he held, rejection flashed across his face. He started to pry her off.

Dina clung tighter. “I know you never forgot me,” she cried. “You only married Cora because she’s carrying your child. It’s a sham, isn’t it? I was wrong before—I know that now. I can’t live without you.”

Liam looked up and saw Cora in the doorway—saw the hurt hollowing her eyes—and felt something in his chest twist.

“Jule, I saw it,” Dina rushed on. “When you dove for me—how you held me—you still care. You’re just keeping your distance because of your position and her pregnancy, right? I don’t blame you. I’ll be your woman even without a name. I love you. I always have.”

Julian’s expression didn’t flicker.

“And I know the truth,” Dina pressed, lifting her face toward his. “You and Cora are a contract, a performance for the crowd. Look at me, Jule. I’m the one who actually loves you.” She tipped up to kiss him.

He didn’t move. He didn’t push her away either.

Color drained from Cora’s face.

Dina had clocked her the moment the door opened. Every word since had been aimed like a knife.

Cora turned and stumbled out, vision swimming. Riley shot one long, assessing glance at the pair by the water, then went after her.

Liam rose too and left without a sound. Whatever this was, it was Julian’s mess.

Julian’s mouth curved—not with warmth but with contempt. “So that was the plan? Lurk here and ambush me? Who let you in?”

Feeling the temperature drop, Dina only clung harder, mouth seeking his again.

He stripped her hands from his neck and stood. An attendant rushed over with a robe; Julian shrugged into it and belted once, movements precise.

“Go back the way you came,” he said flatly. He turned.

Dina lunged and wrapped him from behind. “Jule, just hear me out. Then I’ll go.” Her arms locked around his waist. “How did I get in? I came with Cora. This is Watson property—I couldn’t step foot in Zone One without her clearance.”

Julian stopped. Very slowly, he turned and seized her wrist. “Say that again.”

Dina’s lashes spiked with water as she blinked up, all wounded innocence. “She told me you two are only temporary. She’s leaving after the baby’s born. She knows we love each other—she said she’d return you to me. Why wait? We can come back to each other now. I can give you a child too—”

A vein stood out sharp at Julian’s temple.

“Cora… said that?” His voice was a blade.

“I don’t know why she came to me with it,” Dina hurried on, tears tracking. “Maybe she pitied me, maybe she’s ashamed. I don’t care. I love you. I’ll take the humiliation if it means I get you back. I’ll even stay in the shadows until you divorce. I’ll love your child like my own. She’s entrusted you—and the baby—to me.”

Julian shoved her off and walked out.

—

Cora reeled down the hall, Riley catching her by the wrist. “Hey, hey—slow down.”

“I—” Cora’s throat closed. Why does this hurt? She’d signed a contract. She would leave. She knew all of that. So why did the sight of Dina wrapped around Julian burn like acid?

“It looked bad,” Riley said, then stopped, because there wasn’t a gentler way to name what they’d both seen. “I thought he… liked you.”

“We’re a contract,” Cora said, eyes lowered, voice steady by force. “You can judge me if you want. I traded myself for stability.”

“Stop,” Riley said. “You don’t make choices like that without a reason.”

The dam broke. “What do I do?” Cora whispered, shaking. “Tell me what to do. Dina and Julian—”

She couldn’t finish. The words dissolved in her mouth.

Riley just held her and let her cry.

When Cora could finally breathe, she told Riley everything—the room switch, the betrayals, the apology, the diagnosis, all of it in one halting thread. By the time she reached the part where Dina had begged to be near her “for one last month,” Riley’s face had gone from disbelief to fury to a brittle, icy calm.

“Some ‘best friend,’” Riley muttered. “I’ve seen hostile takeovers with more honor.”

“Dina has a brain tumor,” Cora said, wiping her face. “Time’s short. Morally… shouldn’t I step aside? But, Riley—I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Riley’s hand traced a slow circle at her back. “You don’t owe anyone your life, Cora. Especially not someone using you as a ladder.”

Around the corner, Liam leaned against cool stone, listening to the quiet wreckage in Cora’s voice. He’d read the reports, pieced together a narrative. Hearing it from her own mouth was different.

His pulse stuttered, then steadied into something he didn’t want to name. Was it because she mirrored a face he’d lost—or because it was her?

He couldn’t tell. Not yet.