Chapter 35 The Woman in the Room
After the negotiations with Eva, The drive back from the diner felt like a blur of gray buildings and flashing streetlights.
Elena sat in the back of the car, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her mind replaying the look on Eva’s face.
She had the money, or at least the promise of it, but the giddiness of the secret felt heavier than ever.
By the time she reached the penthouse, it was late in the evening.
She walked inside, expecting the usual silence, but instead, she found the dining table set and the smell of roasted lamb filling the air.
Julian was already there, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he looked over some documents spread out next to his plate.
He looked up when she entered, his eyes scanning her face intensely.
“You’re late,” he said. “I thought Clinton said you were just running a few errands with Mandy.”
“The spa took longer than expected,” Elena lied, sliding into her chair. Her heart was still racing from the meeting with Eva. “Mandy is thorough.”
Julian didn't comment, he simply pushed the papers aside and gestured for the maid to serve the food.
“I made some progress with the Vance Group today,” Julian said calmly. “The interest rates on the secondary loans were predatory, but I’ve managed to negotiate a stay for the next ninety days. Your father isn't happy about the oversight, but it gives us room to breathe. Elena? Are you listening?”
Elena was staring at her water glass, watching the condensation drip down the side.
She hadn't heard a word he’d said. Her mind was at the Pittman Hotel, imagining Francis’s face when she finally handed him the cash.
“Elena?” Julian’s voice was louder now.
She snapped her head up, blinking. “Sorry. Yes. Ninety days. That’s... that’s great, Julian.”
Julian leaned back, his blue eyes narrowing. He set his fork down and folded his hands on the table. “You haven't touched your food and you’ve been staring into space since you walked through the door. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” she said too quickly. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Julian said, his voice dropping an octave. “Is this about Francis again? Did he contact you today?”
The mention of the name made her skin crawl.
The guilt of lying to Julian while he worked to save her family felt like a physical weight, but the anger she’d been harboring since the night before suddenly bubbled to the surface.
She didn't want to talk about Francis. She wanted to talk about the secrets Julian was keeping.
“Why do you care?” she blurted out, her voice louder than she intended. “You spend all day managing my life and my father’s business, but you don't tell me anything about yours.”
Julian’s expression didn't change. “I tell you what you need to know to be safe, Elena.”
“Safe?” she laughed bitterly. “Is that what you call it? Then tell me this, who was that woman from the other night? The one I saw coming out of your room?”
The silence that followed was awkward.
Julian’s jaw tightened, and for a second, the calm almost changed. But he cleared his throat quietly, picked up his wine glass, taking a slow sip before answering.
“I am not ready to discuss my acquaintances with you, Elena,” he said coldly.
“Acquaintance?” Elena stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. “She wasn't just an acquaintance, Julian. She slept in your room! I was there. I overheard you two talking. Don’t stand there and act like she’s just some business partner.”
Julian looked up at her, his eyes like ice. “Cassandra Monroe is a friend and a long-time partner in several of my ventures. Her presence in this house was strictly for work. What you think you heard is irrelevant.”
“Work? In your bedroom at two in the morning?” Elena’s voice was shaking with rage. “Do you think I’m stupid? You talk about trust and being a 'perfect husband,' but you have women sneaking in and out while you treat me like a prisoner who needs a driver to go to the grocery store!”
“Elena, sit down,” Julian commanded.
“No! I’m done. If you want to sleep with her, fine. But don’t you ever come near my room again. Don’t touch me, and don’t act like last night meant anything.” She leaned over the table, her eyes burning. “Henceforth, we stick to the contract. Three years of playing house for the cameras, and then I’m gone. Stay out of my bed and stay out of my life.”
Elena expected him to roar back, to grab her arm or demand she take it back. But Julian didn't move. He just stared at her, his face going completely blank.
“If that is what you want, Elena,” he said quietly, “then that is how it will be.”
The lack of an argument felt like a slap in the face.
Elena felt a lump form in her throat, but she refused to let him see her cry. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the dining room, her heels thundering against the floor as she ran up the stairs to her bedroom.
She slammed the door and locked it, throwing herself onto the bed. She hated him. She hated Francis. She hated her father. But most of all, she hated the fact that when Julian said he wouldn't argue, a part of her felt like she’d just lost the only thing that made her feel safe.
Hours passed and Elena lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the city outside.
She couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the recording device Francis had ripped from her neck and the cold look in Julian’s eyes at dinner.
Around midnight, she heard the distant sound of tires on the gravel driveway below.
She sat up, her heart racing. Julian shouldn't be expecting anyone this late again. She crept to the window and pulled back the heavy velvet curtain just an inch.
Under the glow of the security lights, a sleek red sports car was idling near the front entrance.
The driver’s side door opened, and a woman stepped out. Even from the second story, Elena recognized the dark hair and the expensive car.
It was Cassandra. The same woman from the other night.
Elena watched, her blood beginning to boil, as the woman walked briskly toward the front door as if she owned the place.
She didn't even ring the bell; she simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The disrespect was the final straw.
Elena had spent the day being blackmailed, insulted by her sister, and ignored by her husband. She wasn't going to sit in her room like a jilted child while Julian’s mistress walked into her home in the middle of the night.
“Not tonight,” Elena hissed to herself.
She grabbed her silk bathrobe from the foot of
the bed, tying the belt with a violent jerk as she unlocked her door and stormed out into the hallway.