Chapter 160 The Woman Who Wasn't Her
Julian：POV
The cab pulled up to the hospital entrance, and I paid the driver, barely registering the amount.
Nancy followed me out, cradling her bandaged hand against her chest, her face pale under the harsh streetlights.
"This way," I said, guiding her through the automatic doors.
The emergency room was quieter than I expected for a Friday night. A few people scattered across the waiting area—a man with a bloody towel pressed to his forehead, a mother rocking a feverish toddler, an elderly couple speaking in hushed tones. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow.
I walked Nancy to the reception desk, gave the nurse her information, and then stepped back, scanning the room out of habit.
That's when I saw her.
Elena.
She was sitting in the corner, her back to me, her brown hair falling over her shoulders.
Alexander was beside her, leaning in close, holding a small plastic fork. He said something I couldn't hear, and she laughed—soft, musical, the sound cutting through me like a blade.
He was feeding her cake.
Strawberry cake, from the looks of it. The kind with too much frosting and little pink sprinkles. The kind Lila had asked for.
My feet moved before my brain caught up.
I crossed the waiting room in long strides, my pulse hammering in my ears. Nancy called after me—"Julian?"—but I didn't stop. I didn't even slow down.
Alexander saw me first. His expression shifted from easy affection to cold wariness in an instant. He straightened, pulling the fork back, but it was too late.
I knocked it out of his hand.
The cake splattered onto the floor, frosting smearing across the tile in a sticky pink mess. The fork clattered somewhere under a chair.
Elena's head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. Then they narrowed.
"Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice sharp and brittle. "What the hell are you doing here?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Because she was staring at me like I was a stranger. Like I was some lunatic who'd just assaulted her dessert.
And maybe I was.
"Julian." Alexander stood, placing himself between us. "You need to leave."
"I need to—" I let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through my hair. "You're the one who needs to leave. You're the one who's been lying to her for four years."
"I saved her life," Alexander said, his voice low and dangerous. "Where were you when she was drowning? Where were you when she woke up in a hospital bed with no memory of who she was?"
"I was looking for her!" I shouted, my control snapping. "I was tearing this city apart trying to find her while you were playing house with my wife!"
"Your ex-wife," Alexander corrected. "You signed the papers. You let her go."
"I didn't let her go," I said, my voice breaking. "She left. And I've spent every day since then trying to get her back."
Elena stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Stop it. Both of you, just—stop."
I looked at her, and my chest tightened. She was holding herself like she was bracing for impact, her arms wrapped around her middle, her jaw set.
"Elena—"
"Don't," she said, cutting me off. "I don't know what's going on between you two, but I don't want any part of it."
"Elena, please—"
"Mom?"
The small voice came from behind her. I looked past Elena and saw Lila sitting in the chair, her eyes half-open, her flushed cheek pressed against the armrest. She blinked up at us, confused and drowsy.
Elena turned immediately, her whole body softening. "I'm here, baby. Go back to sleep."
But Lila didn't. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and then she saw me.
"Sad man?" she said, her voice thick with sleep.
I froze.
Elena glanced at me, her expression unreadable. Then she looked back at Lila, smoothing her hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. He's just leaving."
"I'm not leaving," I said.
"Yes, you are." Alexander stepped forward, his hand on Elena's shoulder. "Julian, if you care about her at all, you'll walk away. Right now."
I stared at him. At the way he touched her. At the way she leaned into him, just slightly, like he was the only solid thing in the room.
And I wanted to kill him.
But then I heard footsteps behind me.
"Julian?"
I turned. Nancy was standing a few feet away, her good hand clutching the strap of her purse, her eyes darting between me and Elena.
Elena's gaze shifted to her. I saw the exact moment she registered Nancy's face—the way her eyes widened, the way her breath caught.
Because Nancy looked like her. Not exactly, but close enough. The same brown hair. The same delicate bone structure. The same eyes and brows—that familiar arch, the way her lashes cast shadows when she looked down.
Elena's expression hardened as Nancy approached and grabbed my sleeve.
"Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice cold. "Is this your girlfriend?"
I didn't answer.
She took a step closer, her eyes flicking between me and Nancy. "Why does she look like me?"
"She doesn't—" I started, but Elena cut me off.
"Don't lie to me," she snapped. "I'm not an idiot. She looks like me. So which is it? Did you use me as a replacement for her? Or are you using her as a replacement for me?"
I felt my jaw tighten. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like?" Elena demanded. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty disgusting."
Nancy flinched, and I hated myself for putting her in this position.
"Elena," I said, my voice low. "You don't understand—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly," she said, her tone dripping with contempt. "Alexander told me everything. How you treated me like a dirty little secret for three years. How you had another woman—Victoria, was it?—who you actually cared about. How you made me feel like I was nothing."
"That's not—"
"And now you show up here with someone who looks like me?" She laughed, bitter and sharp. "God, you're pathetic. If you cared about me so much, why didn't you treat me better when you had the chance?"
Her words hit me like a physical blow.
"I was an idiot," I said hoarsely. "I know that. I was cruel and selfish and I took you for granted. But I love you, Elena. I've always loved you."
"Too late," she said. "Your love means nothing to me now. It's cheaper than dirt. So do us both a favor and be fair to the woman standing next to you. Let her go before you ruin her life too."
"Elena—"
"Please leave," she said, her voice breaking. "You're going to wake my daughter."
I looked at Lila, who was stirring in the chair, her small face scrunched in discomfort. Then I looked at Elena, who was staring at me with something that looked like pity.
"Julian," Alexander said quietly. "If you have any decency left, you'll go."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to grab Elena and make her listen, make her remember, make her see me.
But then Lila shifted, curling into Elena's side, and Elena's hand came up to cradle her head, her touch so gentle it made my throat ache.
She looked like a mother. Like someone who had built a life without me.
And I had no right to destroy that.
"Fine," I said, my voice rough. "I'll go. But this isn't over, Elena. I'm not giving up on you."
She didn't respond. She just turned away, pulling Lila into her lap, whispering something soft and soothing into her hair.
Alexander watched me, his expression unreadable. "Don't come back," he said.
I didn't answer. I just turned and walked toward the exit, my chest tight, my hands clenched into fists.
Nancy caught up to me near the door. "Julian," she said softly. "Are you okay?"
I stopped, looking down at her. At her bandaged hand. At the worry in her eyes.
"No," I said. "But I will be."
She tugged gently on my sleeve. "You said you'd take me to get this treated."