Chapter 12 Attacked
Julian sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the screen as numbers and emails blurred together. He was deep in thought about the next move, how to push the divorce faster, and how to keep Adeline from pulling away when the door flew open with a loud bang.
Edward Hale stormed in like a bull let loose. His face was red, veins standing out on his neck. Lisa hurried behind him, hands raised like she could somehow hold him back. She looked small next to Edward’s bulk, her face pale with worry.
Julian knew right away that his father had heard. The headlines, the photos, the kiss. All of it had reached him on the flight back from Canada.
Julian lifted one hand toward Lisa, giving her a quick signal to go now before his father took his anger out on her.
Lisa hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Edward, then back to Julian. She looked scared for him, but she nodded once, stepped back, and pulled the door shut behind her. The click of the latch sounded final.
Edward didn’t wait. He charged across the room, and Julian stood up fast, ready to speak, ready to explain, but he never got the chance.
Edward’s fist came hard and fast. It connected with Julian’s jaw like a hammer, and pain exploded across his face. He staggered back two steps, the chair scraping behind him.
Julian blinked once, tasting metal. He straightened, hands loose at his sides.
Edward didn’t pause. He swung again, and this punch landed square on Julian’s cheekbone. Skin split at the corner of his mouth, and warm blood trickled down his chin. He felt the sting, sharp and bright, but he didn’t flinch.
“Dad,” Julian started, his voice low.
Edward roared. “Don’t you dare call me that, you worthless piece of shit!”
He grabbed Julian by the collar and shoved. Julian’s back hit the edge of the desk, and papers scattered to the floor. Edward’s knee came up fast, driving into Julian’s thigh. Pain shot through his leg, but he stayed on his feet.
Edward kept coming. Fists flew, left, right, left. One caught Julian in the ribs, another grazed his temple, and Julian tasted more blood. His lip was swelling fast.
He knew this pattern. He had known it for thirty years. Edward’s rage always burned hot and fast, and the only way through it was to take it. Fight back, and it got worse, argue, and it lasted longer. So Julian stood still with his arms at his sides and face forward. Let the storm pass.
Edward grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved down hard. Julian’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor. The impact jarred his bones.
Edward towered over him. “Bastard,” he spat. A kick landed on Julian's side, and air rushed out of his lungs. “Useless fucker.” Another kick, this one to the ribs. Pain bloomed sharp and hot. “Scum. Traitor.”
The names kept coming. The same ones Julian had heard since he was a boy. Bastard, worthless, disappointment. Every time Edward lost a deal, every time Jonathan Carter won something, the words flew like stones.
Julian stayed on his knees. He didn’t curl up, didn’t cover his head. He just breathed through it, in and out, slow and steady. Blood dripped from his lip to the floor in small red spots.
Edward kicked again, a little harder, and Julian’s body rocked sideways. He caught himself on one hand, and the room tilted for a second, then steadied.
“You think you can sleep with that Carter whore?” Edward snarled. “You think you can parade around with her like some lovesick idiot? In front of the world? In front of me?”
Julian wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s not what you think.”
Edward laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Not what I think? I saw the photo, and I read the headlines. You kissed her, and you announced it. You’re fucking the daughter of the man who’s tried to bury us for decades!”
Julian looked up. His left eye was starting to swell. “I know who she is.”
“Then why?” Edward roared as he kicked again. Julian grunted as the blow landed on his shoulder. “Why would you do this to me? To the family? To everything I built?”
Julian stayed quiet. He let the question hang as Edward’s chest heaved and sweat stood out on his forehead. The rage was still there, but it was starting to settle. The first wave always did.
Edward stepped back. His hands shook, and he ran one through his gray hair. “You were supposed to be better than this,” he said, quieter now.
Julian pushed himself up slowly. His ribs ached with every breath, but he stood straight anyway. Blood smeared across his chin, and his shirt was torn at the collar.
“I am,” he said.
Edward stared at him, his eyes narrow and searching. “Then explain it. Tell me why my son is throwing away his name for a Carter.”
Julian met his father’s gaze, steady and calm. “Because it’s the only way to end them.”
Edward blinked. “What?”
Julian wiped more blood from his lip. “Adeline is the heart of Carter Global, and if I manage to get her to trust me and marry her, I get inside. Once I’m in, I get close, and then I break her. That way, the whole family falls, and there'll be no more fights and no more losses. We’ll finally win this war for good.”
“You think Adeline Carter is that dumb?” Edward asked, his voice coming out rough and low. “You think she’ll just let her enemy walk right in and use her?”
Julian wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. His lip stung. He kept his back straight even though his ribs hurt with every breath.
Edward stepped closer. “Or are you using this whole thing as an excuse? An excuse to finally get close to her? Because I remember a time when you were obsessed with that Carter girl. You couldn’t keep your eyes off her.”
Julian felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He hated when his father brought up the past and hated the memory more than the fresh bruises.
Edward kept going. “One school year, and that’s all it took for you to become weak for that girl. You got caught staring at her like some lovesick fool, and I had to beat the lesson into you. Do you remember how you couldn’t hear straight for days after that?”
Julian remembered it clear as day. Almost twenty years ago they had been in the same class for a full year. Adeline sat two rows ahead, quiet, smart, and always one step ahead in every discussion. At the end-of-year party he had stared a little too long at her, and Edward had seen it from across the room and dragged him home. The belt came out first, then fists. Julian had curled on the floor, ears ringing, blood in his mouth, while his father shouted that no Hale would ever touch a Carter. Not ever.
The shame still burned worse than any punch.
Julian met his father’s eyes. “That was a long time ago, and I was a kid. I don’t feel anything for her now. Nothing at all.”
Edward raised one eyebrow. “Nothing?”
“Nothing,” Julian said again. He kept his voice even. “She kissed me first in front of cameras and everyone who mattered, and she called me her lover. She handed me this opening on a plate, and I’m taking it. I’m going to marry her, get inside their world, and break her down from the inside.”
Edward went quiet. He walked slow circles around the desk while Julian stood still and waited. His face throbbed, and his side ached where the kicks had landed, but he didn’t move and didn’t speak. He knew the silence could turn back into fists at any second.
Edward stopped in front of him, close enough that Julian could smell the whiskey from the plane still on his breath.
“Words,” Edward said finally. “You’ve always been good with words.”
Julian didn’t answer.
Edward leaned in. “You have six months.”
Julian blinked once. “Six months?”
“Six months to prove this is real and to prove you’re using her, not falling for her. Show me Carter Global bleeding in six months. If you don’t, and if I see even one sign that you’re soft, that old feelings are creeping back, I’m done with you. You won’t be my son anymore. You won’t have this company. You won’t have anything.”
The words landed heavy like another kick to the ribs. Julian felt them sink in, but he didn’t flinch. He nodded once. “Understood father.”
Edward studied his face for a long time, looking for the boy who had once stared too long at a Carter girl.
He found nothing. Julian kept his eyes steady and empty.
Edward stepped back. “Clean yourself up. You look like roadkill.”
He walked to the door, paused with his hand on the knob, and looked back one last time.
“If you fail, don’t come begging. I won’t hear it.”