Chapter 72
Sienna's pov
Before I could respond, Elena hung up and sent me the address.
What a coincidence. It was the café I used to frequent.
I texted back with a slice of sarcasm: [I’m pregnant. I can’t drink coffee or tea. Aren’t you worried something might happen to me?]
I’d deleted and re-added Elena’s contacts so many times that our old chat history was long gone. Talking to her felt like shouting into a void that only shouted back.
[So what if something happens? Harrison wouldn’t believe you anyway. So be careful, Sienna. Don’t trip and then blame a miscarriage on me. Harrison won’t buy it.]
The favoritism hit like it always did—sharp, familiar, and ugly.
[Do you think I’m like you?] I fired back. [I wouldn’t stoop to something that low.]
Elena wasn’t brilliant, but she was a survivor. She was careful, and she never left a digital trail she couldn’t deny.
[Sienna, spare me the accusations. Harrison believes what he wants to believe. See you at the café.]
I slid my phone away and leaned into the cold hospital wall, forcing myself to breathe.
Should I just let her off the hook?
No. Not yet.
As my vision steadied, a shadow stretched across the hallway lights. For a split second, my mind twisted it into Elena—standing there, laughing at me with that soft, poisonous smile.
If I couldn’t get justice the clean way, then I’d pay any price to settle it. My reputation. My life. Whatever it took.
“Sienna, why are you standing by the door?” Julian Vane’s voice came in smooth and calm. “The tiles are cold. You need to keep warm.”
The sound of him was like cool water over raw nerves. I hated that it worked.
“I just took a call,” I said, my eyes catching the lunchbox in his hand. “What brings you here? And what’s that?”
“I brought you food.” Julian stepped toward me, his hand reaching out like it belonged there.
I pivoted without making it obvious, letting my fingers close around the door handle instead. Heat climbed my face anyway.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I said. “You’ve already helped us so much. I should be handling these small things myself.”
I had to keep the polite mask on for Agnes’s sake. Julian’s “sincere” confession had nearly convinced her he was a saint. But what we had wasn’t simple. It was a knot of favors and pressure and timing that I didn’t know how to cut.
He said he liked me, and with the money he’d spent and the strings he’d pulled, it was hard to pretend it was strictly business. Even Luna believed him.
“Have you been taking care of yourself while looking after Agnes?” Julian asked, opening the container. “You should eat. You skipped breakfast again, didn’t you?”
The scent of vegetables rose warm and clean, and my stomach—knotted with nausea for days—actually stirred.
For the baby’s sake, I had to try.
“I’m not that weak,” I said, quieter than I meant to. “I… I do have something to ask you later.”
Julian had been buried in work. He’d been a ghost lately, always out of reach. I knew Harrison’s side of the Blackwood business in Europe was in turmoil, and the New Haven rumors were relentless—Vane pressure, internal fractures, boardroom chaos. Harrison was drowning in conflict, with no time left to haunt me.
And I knew Julian had designed it that way.
“Sienna, Julian really shouldn’t come around so often,” Agnes called from the bed. “Sienna isn’t divorced yet. Keep your distance. Being impatient won’t help. Doesn’t Mr. Vane understand that?”
I choked on a mouthful of soup, the heat scraping my throat. I set the bowl down too hard, grabbed napkins, and bolted into the hallway before my eyes could betray me.
Julian followed immediately.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
He pressed a bottle of water into my hand. “I thought you couldn’t handle anything greasy, so I kept it light. Otherwise, I’d make sure you ate a proper meal.”
I took a few long gulps, the cold settling the burn, then turned to him. My voice came out flat.
“Julian, emotions are a burden. You don’t need to use ‘love’ to win me over.”
I stripped the last of the polite veneer away because I needed him to hear me.
“It’s a burden,” I said again, steadier. “Isn’t a simple exchange of interests better? I don’t like complications, and neither do you, right?”
He didn’t flinch. He reached out with a napkin, aiming for my mouth.
I stepped back.
For one heartbeat, I saw it in his eyes—something sharp and hungry that wasn’t love at all. It was the need to win.
Then the warmth slid back into place.
“What am I doing wrong?” he asked. “Tell me, and I’ll change.”
His gaze softened, glowing with a gentleness that almost felt real.
“There’s nothing wrong,” I said, and my chest tightened with frustration. “I just don’t want—”
“Can’t I like you?” he cut in.
Heat rushed into my cheeks. I hated the way my body reacted to his tone, like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
“Sienna,” Julian said, stepping closer, “I’ve seen how hard you fight. If you want a reason, it’s because you have a rare resilience. But love—love doesn’t always make sense.”
His voice dropped. “You could marry Harrison Blackwood, so tell me why I can’t like you?”
The pursuit felt like a wall closing in. But one thought stayed lodged in my mind, heavy and humiliating: if Harrison had ever spoken to me like this, even if it were a lie, I might have stayed his wife forever.
The realization turned sour in my mouth.
I still loved him.
I must still love Harrison.
“But I still love Harrison,” I said, using the truth like a shield.
If I couldn’t reject Julian cleanly, I’d force him to give up on his own.
“I know.” Julian didn’t back off. He stepped closer until my spine met the wall. “But I want to stay by your side. It’s okay if someone else is in your heart. I can wait until I gradually become part of your life…”
My back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go.
His sweet words left me cold.
“I’m carrying Harrison’s child,” I blurted. “And I’m keeping it.”
I tried to slip away, but he trapped me, his arms braced on either side of my head.
“I’ll treat the baby like mine,” Julian promised, solemn as an oath. “Even when we have our own children in the future—”
“Stop!” My voice cracked. “Harrison’s crazy, and so are you?”
I shoved him back, anger finally boiling over. “I’m still married. What do you think you’re doing?”
Things were sliding out of control, and I could feel it in the tightness of my throat, the way my hands shook when they should’ve been steady.
Julian didn’t get angry. He gave me space, though his eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was too hasty. I’ll wait until you’re divorced before I pursue you.”
Crazy.
I didn’t bother correcting him. I forced myself back to reality. I needed facts, not feelings.
“How’s the Blackwood situation in Europe?” I asked. “Harrison shouldn’t have time to deal with me now, right?”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Julian said, his confidence returning like armor. “He’s got his hands full. He won’t be back for at least a month.”
He held my gaze, steady and certain.
“That gives you more time,” he added.