Chapter 24 Porcelain
Julian stood beside his car in the quiet of the early morning, one hand braced flat against the roof, the other gripping a small encrypted phone.
From the expression on his face, it was a shitty morning and the day had barely even begun.
“I told you,” he said into the receiver, his voice low and commanding, “I can’t leave my wife, not now.”
There was a pause and the muscle in his jaw tightened.
“She needs me more than ever,” he continued. “This isn’t negotiable.”
The voice on the other end said something that made Julian’s expression change instantly.
His shoulders stiffened and his eyes became even more cold.
“…Tonight?” he repeated. “That’s not ideal.”
There was another pause before he exhaled slowly through his nose. “Fine. Three a.m. Bring her in tonight.”
He ended the call before the other person could say another word.
For a moment, he stayed where he was, staring at the dark screen of the phone as if it might argue back.
Then he slid it into his pocket and turned toward the house, but then he froze at the sight before him.
Elena was standing a few feet away.
Barefoot with arms folded tightly across her chest.
She was wearing nothing but a thin, short negligee that did absolutely nothing to shield her from the cold or cover up her luscious curves.
Her eyes were locked on him and she looked pissed.
He straightened immediately. “Elena. I didn’t know you were out here.”
She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course you didn’t. That was the point, wasn’t it?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You're sneaking out of the house like a little petty burglar,” she snapped. “Running to the garage so I wouldn’t hear your stupid little phone calls.”
“Elena—”
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare Elena me!”
Her voice trembled, but she still looked ready to fight him with her tiny delicate fists. “Aren’t you shameless?”
“I should be ashamed of picking a call?"
"Outside the house at 5 o'clock in the morning?”
His brows drew together. “You misunderstood—”
“Of course, I didn't expect something else from a pathetic liar like you," she cut in before he could finish, then turned sharply on her heel and stormed back toward the house.
“Elena, wait.”
She didn’t.
“Elena!” He took a step after her, eyes dropping to her feet. “You’re not wearing shoes.”
She was already at the steps, stomping like a furious, barefoot kitten up the porch.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he called out.
“Good,” she shot back without turning. “Maybe then I’ll actually feel something real in this freaking dull house.”
She placed her foot on the first step and the wetness of the morning dew that settled made her slip. Just like Julian feared.
Her body pitched backward Julian was there in an instant.
“Elena!”
She barely had time to gasp before her head struck the pillar hard.
A clay pot toppled from its stand, shattering loudly as it hit the floor. She cried out, collapsing awkwardly, and as she tried to push herself up, a sharp shard of glass pierced the sole of her foot.
Pain exploded through her and she screamed.
Julian grabbed her head and helped her sit up.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Elena, don’t move.”
“Get away from me!” she cried, trying to scramble back, panic flooding her voice. “Don’t touch me!”
She struggled, but before she could protest further, his arms were already around her, lifting her cleanly off the floor.
“Put me down!” she shouted, fists pounding weakly against his chest. “Let go of me!”
“No,” he said firmly, clutching her close. “You’re bleeding.”
She kicked and thrashed as he carried her inside. “I said let go!”
“Enough,” he snapped, not raising his voice but still authoritative enough to make her stop struggling. “You’re hurt.”
That stopped her just enough for him to move faster.
“Bring water and the first aid box. Now,” he barked at the nearest maid he found inside the living area without slowing down
He carried Elena straight to her room, ignoring her protests, and laid her gently on the bed.
The moment she saw the blood smeared across her foot and staining the sheets, her breath hitched.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, panic setting in. “Julian, it’s deep.”
She clutched at the sheets. “I’m hurt.”
“I know,” he said calmly. “Look at me.”
She did, tears gathering in her eyes.
“I’ve got this,” he said. “You’re fine, it's a flesh wound.”
The maid arrived soon with the kit and Julian pulled on gloves quickly, his movements efficient and almost practiced.
He examined her foot and quickly spotted the embedded glass.
“This will hurt a little,” he warned.
“Just do it,” she said shakily. “This is all your fault anyway.”
Before she could finish the sentence, he pulled out the glass abruptly and the disinfectant touched the wound.
She cried out sharply, grabbing his arm instinctively, nails digging into his sleeve.
He didn’t pull away.
When it was done, she realized she was clutching him and released him quickly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s fine,” he said, wrapping her foot carefully in clean bandages.
“Sorry if I hurt you," He looked at the blood soaking into the sheet. “It would’ve gotten infected if I hadn’t cleaned it properly.”
“I said I was fine,” she insisted weakly.
He lifted her gently and placed her on the chair nearby. “Sit.”
Then he stripped the bed at once, folding the bloodied sheets.
“Why don’t you let the maids do that?” she asked quietly.
He paused and looked at her. “Because you're my wife and I’m here to take care of you. Not them.”
He called for the laundry to be taken away, then turned back to her.
She folded her arms again. “So,” she said, voice tight. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear the call?”
He stiffened slightly. “What call?”
She scoffed. “Don’t insult me. I hear everything and I see everything.”
“You don’t need to involve yourself in every detail of my life,” he said carefully. “I’m here with you.”
“That’s the problem,” she shot back. “You say you’re here with me, but you don’t share anything with me.”
“There are things that aren’t important.”
She laughed bitterly. “I get hurt every single time I'm close to you, Julian.”
“You slipped because you weren’t wearing shoes.”
“And I was out there in the first place because you were sneaking around,” she snapped.
He didn't say a word as he turned to the door.
“I’ll have visitors later this evening,” he said. “You should be dressed for the occasion.”
She blinked. “Visitor?”
But he was already at the door.