Chapter 188
Chapter 188
Andrew's POV
Her loyalty irritated me more than I expected. "I don't understand your devotion to her, Julie. What has Grace Wilson ever really done for you? Given you a job? Please. Gratitude doesn't pay for your mother's medical bills or guarantee your brother's future."
"She's been good to me."
"Good to you?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Come on. You're too smart to believe that kindness trumps reality. I could offer you opportunities Grace never could—real power, real money."
I watched her jaw tighten.
"And what about you?" Julie shot back. "Following Elizabeth around, doing whatever she asks—is that really worth it?"
The question hit closer to home than I was willing to admit. "Elizabeth is my mother. She raised me when no one else wanted me. There's such a thing as family loyalty, family responsibility."
"Even when that family asks you to destroy innocent people?"
"Innocent?" My voice rose before I could control it. "Grace stole everything from me. She waltzed in with a DNA test and took what Elizabeth and I spent years building. What should have been mine by right."
"Julie, you have to understand—Robert's will was a betrayal. Elizabeth and I dedicated our lives to Wilson Holdings. We made it what it is today. Then some stranger appears and suddenly she owns everything?"
Her dark eyes blazed with fury. "Grace didn't steal anything. She's Robert's daughter. Blood doesn't lie, Andrew."
"Blood." I spat the word. "What about years of work? Sacrifice? Does biology really trump everything else?"
"Grace didn't ask to be abandoned as a baby. She didn't choose any of this."
Her words stirred something uncomfortable in my chest—a recognition I didn't want to acknowledge. I pushed it aside and shrugged off my jacket.
"I need to shower."
I couldn't expose more vulnerability than I intended.
I headed for the bathroom, trying to shake the feeling that I was missing something important.
---
Julie's POV
I waited until I heard the shower running before I moved. My heart hammered against my ribs as I crept to the coffee table, where Andrew's iPhone lay like a gift from the universe.
Three feet. Just three feet between me and everything Grace needs to know.
The 24-hour phone repair shop was right near my place, and I rushed there with the phone. The owner barely looked up when I walked in.
"I need this unlocked," I said, placing Andrew's phone on the counter. "Emergency situation."
He examined the device, then raised his eyebrows. "This isn't your phone."
"It's my boyfriend's. He's passed out drunk and I need to check if his ex is harassing him again." The lie came easily. "I'll pay extra for speed."
Twenty minutes and two hundred dollars later, I was scrolling through Andrew's phone with shaking hands. Most of it was predictable—work emails, calendar appointments.
But the NaturaLuxe folder was a goldmine.
I quickly forwarded everything to Grace—contract terms, financial projections, timeline details. Everything she needed to know.
I scrolled through his photos. This is too easy—
I stopped breathing.
There, buried between photos of expensive watches and business dinners, was a picture of a handwritten note. The handwriting was messy, rushed, but I'd recognize it anywhere.
"Thank you for walking with me through this part of the journey, Andrew. - Molly"
My hands trembled as I stared at the screen. He kept it. After everything—after isolating her, controlling her, driving her to suicide—he kept her farewell note.
Rage flooded through me, white-hot and consuming. You bastard.
I stumbled back home, up the stairs, Andrew's phone clutched in my trembling hands.
---
Andrew's POV
I was toweling off when I heard the front door open. I wrapped the towel around my waist.
Julie appeared in the bathroom doorway, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Her face was pale, her eyes too bright, like she was running on pure adrenaline.
"Where's my phone?" I asked, suddenly alert.
"On the coffee table where you left it."
But her voice sounded different. Hollow. Dangerous.
I pushed past her into the living room and grabbed my phone. It was warm—too warm. And the battery was significantly lower than when I'd left it.
Damn.
"Julie." My voice was deadly quiet. "What did you do?"
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Julie's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Go ahead," she said softly. "Call the police. Tell them your employee accessed your phone without permission."
"Beg me, and maybe I'll forgive you?"
"I don't need your forgiveness. Andrew, like the scum you are, whatever I do to you, I won't feel a shred of guilt."
"Julie!"
The familiar rage built in my chest, the same fury that had gotten me into trouble so many times before. Elizabeth's voice echoed in my head: "Show them who's in control, Andrew. Never let them see weakness."
Without thinking, I hurled the phone at her.
It struck her shin with a dull thud, and she stumbled backward, her face contorting with pain. But she didn't cry out. She just stood there, eyes closed.
Like she was used to it.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
I raised my hand, ready to strike, but something in her stillness stopped me. She wasn't cowering or pleading. She was just... waiting.
"Useless people don't deserve love, Andrew. And successful people? They don't need it. They take what they want."
Elizabeth's childhood words echoed in my head, but for the first time, they sounded wrong. Twisted.
I slowly lowered my hand, my whole body shaking with the effort of controlling myself.
Instead, I stepped forward and caught her chin in my fingers, tilting her face up to mine.
"Look at me," I growled.
She kept her eyes tightly shut.
Then I kissed her, hard and desperate, tasting anger and something darker.
Julie brought her knee up into my stomach with surprising force. I doubled over, and she used my momentum to push me backward. We crashed into the coffee table, sending everything sliding across the floor.
I recovered quickly, rolling us over so she was pinned beneath me on the carpet.
She stared up at me with those unflinching dark eyes, and when she spoke, her voice was perfectly calm.
"If you really hurt me, at least I'll have the satisfaction of watching you go to prison."
Something in her tone made me pause. She wasn't afraid—she was calculating. Like she was already three steps ahead of me.
"You feel something for me," I said, studying her face. "I know you do. You wouldn't have gotten this close otherwise."
Julie was quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost gentle.
"You're right," she said. "I do feel something for you."
Hope flared in my chest, unexpected and painful.
"I feel disgusted," she continued, her tone never changing. "Every time I look at you, every time you touch me, every time you smile at me like you're not a monster—I feel sick to my stomach."