Chapter 104 The Weight of What's Lost
Julian's POV
The email notification pinged on my phone at 11:47 p.m.
NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital - Test Results Available
I stared at the screen for a long moment before opening it.
My hands were shaking.
I'd requested the amniocentesis results weeks ago—back when Elena was still in the hospital, still pregnant, still mine. The hospital had said it would take time to process. That they'd email when the results were ready.
I'd forgotten about it. Or maybe I'd forced myself to forget.
Now, sitting alone in the dark penthouse, I clicked the link.
It took me to a patient portal. Medical jargon I barely understood. Numbers and percentages and chromosome sequences.
And at the bottom, in clear, unambiguous language:
No evidence of chromosomal abnormalities. Trisomy 21 (Down syndrome): NEGATIVE.
The phone slipped from my hand.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
The baby was fine. Our baby was fine.
And I'd—
"Maybe we should consider our options."
"I'm talking about being realistic."
"We need to think about what's best."
I'd made her think I didn't want it. That I'd rather... that I'd prefer...
"Fuck." The word came out strangled. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"
I grabbed the phone and pulled up my contacts.
My fingers were shaking so badly I could barely type.
Julian: Club. Now.
Julian: Both of you.
Blake responded first: It's midnight.
Julian: I don't give a fuck. Now.
Lucas: This better be good.
Julian: Manhattan Private Club. 30 minutes.
I didn't wait for their responses.
---
Lucas was already at the bar when I arrived, looking like he'd been drinking for hours.
"There he is," he said, raising his glass. "The man who sends cryptic texts at midnight like some kind of dramatic asshole."
"Fuck you," I said without heat.
Blake showed up five minutes later, still in his suit. "This better be important."
I didn't answer. Just grabbed the bottle of Macallan the bartender had poured and filled three glasses.
"Julian?" Blake's voice sharpened. "What's going on?"
I slid my phone across the bar. The email was still open.
Blake read it. His expression shifted.
"Shit," he said quietly.
"What?" Lucas leaned over. Squinted at the screen. "Wait—is this... the baby? Your baby?"
"Was," I said. My voice sounded hollow. "Was my baby."
"The results came back negative," Blake said. "The baby was healthy."
Lucas stared at me. "And you told her to terminate."
I drained my glass. Poured another.
"I didn't—" I stopped. "I suggested we consider our options. That we should be realistic."
"Jesus Christ."
"She was terrified," I continued. My hands were shaking again. "She wanted to fight for him. She would have fought for him no matter what. And I made her think I'd want her to kill our child if it wasn't perfect."
Blake poured himself a drink.
Lucas just stared.
"I killed him," I said. "For nothing. For a statistical anomaly that never even existed."
"You didn't know," Blake said.
"I should have trusted her." I looked up at them. "I should have fucking trusted her."
We drank in silence for a while.
"She left you," Lucas said eventually. "Your wife. The one you pretended didn't exist."
"She divorced me."
Lucas seemed to say out of spite, "Women are just being dramatic; don't bother looking for her, she'll come back on her own."
I thought, 'How is that even possible?'
Blake patted my shoulder, "He's been having some tension with Sophia lately; don't listen to him."
Sophia——Elena's Friend——Blake was executing his revenge on her.
We drank more.
At some point, Lucas passed out in the corner booth. Blake was scrolling through his phone, muttering about some deal that was falling apart.
And I sat there, staring at nothing, thinking about Elena.
About the way she'd looked at me in the hospital. The way she'd whispered "You killed my baby" and meant it.
The way she'd slashed her wrists in my bathtub because staying with me was worse than dying.
"You love her," Blake said suddenly.
I didn't deny it. Couldn't.
"Yeah," I said. "I think I do."
"I know." I looked at him. "I've probably loved her for years. I was just too fucking blind and stubborn and—"
"Stupid."
"Yeah. Stupid."
Blake studied me for a long moment. "So what are you going to do about it?"
"Get her back."
"She divorced you. Ran to Florida to get away from you. Cut all contact." He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think she'll want you back?"
"She won't," I said. "Not at first. Maybe not ever."
"Then why—"
"Because I have to try." I met his eyes. "Because I spent three years treating her like she was nothing. And I need to spend however long it takes proving that she's everything."
Blake's expression was unreadable. "That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard, or the most delusional."
"Probably both."
---
The mansion was dark when I stumbled in around three a.m.
Empty. Silent.
Exactly how I deserved it.
I walked past the living room where I'd fucked her on the couch. Past the kitchen where I'd watched her make coffee at five a.m., dark circles under her eyes because she'd been up working on designs.
Past the bedroom where I'd held her and hurt her and failed her in every possible way.
The nursery door was closed.
I stood outside it for a long time before I pushed it open.
The room was exactly as we'd left it. Crib in the corner. Rocking chair by the window. Little mobile with stars and moons that Elena had picked out, her face glowing with shy happiness as she showed it to me.
I'd barely looked at it. Had muttered something about it being "fine" and gone back to my phone.
Now I walked to the crib and gripped the railing.
Our son would have been fine, I thought. Healthy. Perfect.
And I'd made his mother think I didn't want him.
The grief hit me like a physical blow. I doubled over, gasping, my knuckles white against the wood.
Then I straightened up.
Wiped my eyes.
And pulled out my phone.
I didn't have Elena's number anymore—she'd blocked me—but I had other resources.
I opened my email and started typing.
[Adrian—I need you to find someone for me. Elena Vance. Last known location: Florida. I don't care what it costs. Find her.]
I hit send.
Then I looked around the empty nursery one more time.
"I'm coming for you," I said to the silence. "Both of you. I'm coming, and I'm not giving up."