Chapter21 I'm going to figure out what it is
Chloe
The open office hummed with Monday morning chaos—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, the espresso machine hissing.
I settled into my cubicle, grateful for the familiar rhythm of spreadsheets and financial models.
"Chloe." David appeared with a woman trailing behind. "This is Madison, VP of our M&A division. You'll be collaborating frequently."
Madison's handshake was limp, dismissive. "I hear Mr. Astor personally approved your hire. How lucky."
Around us, heads turned. I kept my face neutral. "I passed three rounds of technical interviews and case analysis."
"Of course." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sure your qualifications speak for themselves."
The whispers started immediately.
By lunch, I was exhausted from maintaining my poker face. Madison slid into the seat across from me in the cafeteria.
"Just between us girls—you know Mr. Astor is married, right? Some mysterious woman no one's ever seen. Rumor has it, it's just a business arrangement."
My heart hammered. I was that mysterious woman. But I kept stabbing at my chicken. "I only care about work."
Before she could respond, Ryan crashed into our table. "Hey Chloe, this seat taken?" He launched into an overly detailed project explanation, clearly trying to impress me while completely ignoring Madison.
I was trapped between Madison's hostility and Ryan's unwanted attention, exactly what I'd feared—being seen as the woman who slept her way to the top.
My phone buzzed. Julian: How's your day?
Fine. Just work.
If anyone bothers you, tell me.
I can handle it.
But as the afternoon dragged on, Madison found excuses to walk past my desk with that knowing smirk.
At three o'clock, I escaped to the floor-to-ceiling windows, needing a moment away from my screen.
Then I saw her. Mia stood in the plaza below in a white Dior suit, scanning the building's windows like she was searching for someone.
My coffee cup nearly slipped. What was she doing here? She thought I was home with my crippled husband.
"Something interesting out there?" Madison appeared behind me, arms crossed.
"Just taking a break." I forced myself to turn away, but Mia's presence felt like a physical weight.
My phone was already out: Mia's downstairs. She's looking for someone. What do I do?
Julian's response was immediate: B2 parking garage, side exit. Driver will meet you there. Don't worry.
Madison's eyes sharpened. "You got really tense all of a sudden. Almost like you saw someone you know."
"I don't know what you mean." But she followed me back to my desk, perching on the edge.
"Just seems odd. New hire, personally approved by the CEO, and now you're acting jumpy. Makes a girl wonder what secrets you're hiding."
At six o'clock, I packed up quickly. "Leaving already?" Madison materialized at my elbow. "I'm heading to the parking garage too. We can walk together."
My stomach dropped, but she was already pressing the elevator button. The ride to B2 felt endless, her casual questions feeling anything but.
When the doors opened, I bolted toward the side exit where Julian's Rolls-Royce idled.
"Fancy ride," Madison said, her tone sharp. "Uber Black?"
"Something like that." I slid in, but before the door closed, Madison leaned in with a smile that was all teeth. "You know what I think, Chloe? There's a lot more to your story than you're letting on. And I'm going to figure out what it is."
Through the tinted windows, I watched her pull out her phone. Then I craned my neck—Mia was still there, pacing. That was too close.
Julian texted: Are you okay?
Yes. But Madison suspects something. And Mia's still down there.
I know. I'm watching the security feeds. We'll talk when you get home.
Home. When had his house become home in my mind?
The butler greeted me at the door. "Mrs. Astor, Mr. Astor is in the wine cellar."
I followed him down a stone staircase into an enormous temperature-controlled space lined with hundreds of bottles. Julian stood before a row of 1982 Château Margaux, gray cashmere sleeves rolled up, collar open.
He set everything aside the moment he saw me, pulling me into his arms. "You scared me."
"Mia was right there. If I'd left through the front entrance—" My hands shook.
"But you didn't." His thumb stroked my neck soothingly. "And Madison?"
"She knows something's off. She's going to keep digging."
"Then we'll deal with it. But right now, you're safe." His certainty steadied me. He led me deeper into the cellar, gesturing to a climate-controlled cabinet. "From Burgundy to Bordeaux. 1961 to 2015. This whole section is yours."
I stared at the collection worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. "Julian—"
"I know you love wine. I know you used to steal sips at the Sterlings', that you spent two years at The Abyss serving bottles you could never afford to drink."
He pulled out a 1982 Château Margaux. "Now you can have whatever you want. This is your home. These are your wines."
Something cracked open in my chest. He guided me to a black leather sofa, pouring two glasses. The wine was perfect—rich, complex, warming.
"Better?"
"Yeah. Today was just... a lot."
"Madison's jealous. Ryan's interested. Mia's circling. But you handled it perfectly." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "You didn't panic. You texted me for help. That's trust, Chloe."
Trust. The word settled over me like a blanket.
My phone rang. Tiffany's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey Tiff—"
"Oh my god, finally! Where have you been? I thought maybe Richard killed you!"
"I'm fine. Just busy with the new job."
"The new job at Astor Capital you didn't tell me about?" There was hurt beneath her accusation. "We tell each other everything, Chloe."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. Tiffany was the only one who knew about Richard, about The Abyss, about how close I'd come to breaking. "I'm sorry. Things have been crazy."
"Crazy how? Did you see Julian Astor yet? Everyone's talking about how he destroyed Richard's career. Richard's been blacklisted from every major firm in LA." She paused. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with that."
I glanced at Julian. "I... might have had something to do with it."
"WHAT? How did you—wait. Did you sleep with Julian Astor?"
"Tiff—"
"Oh my god, you did! Please tell me you used protection because if you get pregnant—"
"We didn't use anything," I blurted out.
"WHAT?! Do you know how brutal finance is to pregnant women? Astor Capital is going to—"
"My boss is my husband."
Silence. Then: "Your husband is THE Julian Astor? The Julian Astor who everyone thought was a crippled recluse?"
"It's a contract marriage," I said quietly. "For my mom's medical bills."
"Honey." Tiffany's voice softened. "But if the baby daddy is a billionaire CEO, pregnancy is a blessing! I'm going to Nordstrom right now—Hermès baby blankets have a six-month waitlist!" The line went dead.
I stared at my phone, then at Julian, who was trying not to laugh. "Your friend is enthusiastic."
"She's insane." But I was smiling.
Julian tilted his head. "Tiffany. I don't think you've mentioned her before."
"We met when I was fourteen—at some charity gala. She's been there through everything. The car accident, East LA, all of it." My throat tightened. "She knows everything about Richard, about The Abyss. She's seen me at my absolute worst."
Julian's hand found mine. "Then I owe her a debt."
"She's going to show up here with a truckload of baby stuff," I warned.
"Let her." He pulled me closer. "Anyone who's been in your corner for ten years has earned that right."
Julian's expression turned serious, his thumb tracing circles on my hand. "My grandmother mentioned it at dinner. The whole 'continuing the family line' thing. She's been dropping hints about wanting great-grandchildren."
I remembered the endless parade of fertility-boosting dishes, Matilda's pointed comments. My face heated. "She wasn't exactly subtle."
His hand moved to my stomach with unexpected tenderness. "But I want you to know—I don't care about her timeline. This is your body, your choice. If you never want children, that's fine. If you want to wait ten years, that's fine too."
His eyes met mine. "I'm not going to pressure you."
The careful respect in his voice made my chest tight. "And what do you want?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Honestly? The idea of a child with you—someone with your stubbornness and my... well, hopefully they'd get your personality." A slight smile. "But only if you want it. Only if you're ready. There's no rush."
I thought about Tiffany's excitement, about Matilda's expectations, about a child with his amber eyes growing up in this house, loved and protected. "I don't know what I want yet. Everything's happening so fast."
"Then we wait until you do know." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We have time."
But did we? With Mia circling and Madison suspicious and this whole precarious house of cards threatening to collapse?
I took another sip of wine, letting it warm me, and tried not to think about how quickly everything was changing.