CHAPTER THREE: The Billionaire's Mistake

JULIAN'S POV

She wasn’t supposed to be there.

But Adele Rivers always had a knack for crashing into places she didn’t belong—and leaving wreckage behind.

Now, even after two scorching showers, I can still taste her on my lips.

Her laugh is stitched into my memory like a curse. Her perfume clings to my skin like guilt.

I need to end this.

I crank the water hotter, willing it to burn away the memory of her. The curve of her mouth. The fire in her eyes when she said my name.

But she’s everywhere.

That damn red dress.

That sharp tongue.

That kiss.

I press my palms to the tiled wall and breathe, but calm doesn’t come. Only her.

And then—

A shift in the air.

Cologne.

A presence.

I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I feel his stare before he speaks, intrusive and amused.

“Have you checked Tiff’s blog?”

Towel in hand, I turn around to face my best friend and confidante, Elliot.

Elliot and I go way back. From partner in crime to partner in business to platonic life partner, I have always been grateful for his presence in my life.

And no, I do not read blogs. I see them as scavengers, scraping up pieces of information and feasting hungrily on insecurities and private lives.

“You know me better than that, man”

“Well you should, because you're all over it”

That stops me in my tracks.

He sounds amused. He must be joking.

But I know he's not.

Memories from last night replay in my head and dread twists my gut.

“Show me.” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“It's nothing though. It'll pass.”

“Show me!”

He stares at me, shrugs and pulls out his phone.

I read the headlines carefully, willing them to disappear along with the photo of my hands wrapped around Adele's waist, lips locked passionately.

Transfixed to the spot, I scroll through the comments. Elliot is saying something, but I can't hear him. My ears are ringing.

This is bad. I cannot deal with this right now. Not when I'm halfway through the Satoshi deal. This is really bad for business.

And then I see it. The comment that will sink me.

“He got over Celeste so fast. I can't wait to see her reaction”

Celeste.

The devil herself.

The memories come flooding back and I push them to the back of my mind.

No. God no. Not her.

Several other comments mention her, and someone even tags her.

I hand the phone back to Elliot, speechless and seething.

“Get Eunice on the phone. Tell her to contact this…Tiff. This is a pure invasion of privacy. Tell her to take that shit down!”

Elliott's eyes widened.

“You just swore. It is that bad isn't it”

“Just…get her to take it down, please “

“I'll do this for you as a favor, not because you ordered me to.”

Elliot shuffled out of the room, his cologne lingering like the mess he just left behind.

“Thank you “ I mutter under my breath, but he's gone.

This cannot be happening.

Not now. Not when I'm so close.

******

ADELE'S POV

Keep your head down. If they find you, everyone will know what you did.

I take a different route to work. Hoodie up, headphones in—no music playing. Just silence. I need to hear everything.

The stares feel sharper today. The whispers too. No one says anything, but I can feel it.

Still, I smile through it. I need this job. It’s not much, but it’s mine.

Behind the counter, I wear the apron like armor. I keep my eyes low, my hands busy. Don’t give them a reason to look twice.

For six hours, I survive. Barely.

I step out back for a smoke break I won’t take. I haven’t lit a cigarette in two years, but I keep the pack anyway—for control, for breathing space. For the lie.

The alley reeks of rot and grease. I close my eyes and inhale. The smoke I imagine burns less than the memory of him—his hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me. Like I was both sin and salvation.

A sound.

Faint.

I freeze.

Camera shutter.

I whip around. Another snap. Then I see them—two men crouched behind the dumpster, a red-haired woman with a long lens, her face set in focus.

Flash.

I stumble back, slam into the door. Panic claws at my throat. How did they find me?

They will always find you. You can’t outrun fire.

The voice is back—sharp, childlike, cruel. I shove it behind the little brown door in my mind, the one I keep padlocked. The one with the smoke still curling underneath.

I burst back into the kitchen. Faces turn. Phones lift.

No. No, no, no.

They know who I am.

The restaurant, once quiet, is swarmed now—camera flashes, murmurs, the scrape of chairs. Like vultures circling a wounded thing.

My boss appears in the chaos. Her voice cuts through the noise, demanding answers. I barely register her words.

“You some kind of celebrity?”

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.

“Well, you’re something. Everyone wants a piece.”

Stop talking. Please stop talking.

“But we don't tolerate drama here. Clock out.”

I can barely hear her over the roaring in my ears.

My stomach turns. I fold forward, elbows to knees, trying to keep it together.

Not here. Don’t fall apart here.

But the air is closing in. The voices swell. The past presses against my ribs like a weight.

You started it. You left the candle burning. You killed them.

The ground tilts. My vision narrows.

I hear someone calling my name. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the fire again.

And then—

Everything goes black.

******

“We are sorry, but we cannot move forward. Not with everything going on.”

Julian gripped his phone tighter and muttered through gritted teeth,

“I have everything under control. I give you my word.”

The voice on the line scoffed.

“Yeah. For now. What happens when Celeste comes back into the picture again? You know she will. And she won't come without her lawyer.”

Julian shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

There it was again. That name.

“She is out of the picture, I assure you. I have no more ties with her.”

“And Leo? You seem to be forgetting something there.”

“Leo is my son. There's no way I'm cutting ties with him just because—”

“Nobody is asking you to do that, Mr. Hawthorne. Look—we will not be entangled in this mess. Keep Celeste out of the picture, and you have a deal. Goodbye for now.”

The line went dead.

Julian replaced the receiver and stared out the window of his penthouse office.

Celeste.

He hated that name just as much as he hated her.

She had cost him everything—his business, his life, his son.

And now, looming in the shadows again, she threatened to burst out like a clown in a box and ruin his life all over again.

Not this time.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

That Satoshi deal was the last piece of his perfectly crafted plan to take Hawthorne Global Holdings to the next level.

No one was going to stop him.

Bottle of whiskey in hand, he thought hard and long about how to get out of this mess unscathed.

Then it came to him.

If he married Adele, the blogs and paparazzi would side with him, and Celeste would have no angle to work with.

It’s just business.

Or so he thought.

******

Adele buried her head in her hands and groaned.

Every new day met new rejections. Suddenly nobody wanted to hire her.

It's one thing to be in the spotlight, it's another to be poor in a rich society's headlights.

The line was clear. And she crossed it. Now nobody was willing to hire her.

She was confined to her couch. Leaving the house meant being stalked by paparazzi. More publicity, more problems. She couldn't have that. They already tracked her down to the house.

She needed a break from this world. This life.

She thought about the cigarette pack in her coat pocket and a longing rose in her chest.

She needed something. Anything to escape reality.

Julian's face drifted into her thoughts, but she shut him out immediately. The son of a bitch had already caused enough damage, and he couldn't even reach out to apologise or make things right.

He was just as bad as she remembered. He used her to pass the time and now she was bearing the brunt.

Prick.

She groaned again and pulled at her eyelashes.

Just then, Ronnie breezed by her and headed for the coffee machine. She smelled of citrus and peaches and it made Adele's nose tingle.

“You okay, Ads? You haven't left that couch in 4 days”

Adele shrugged.

“I would leave if I had somewhere to go. Nobody wants to hire the slutty concubine of a billionaire asshole.”

Ronnie let out a small laugh but quickly straightened up.

“I'm not gonna say I told you so, but you should have known better. I'm not judging you, but I am. And I'm sorry but I can't help it.”

“Yeah go ahead. Kick me when I'm down.”

But she knew. Ronnie did warn her, albeit too late.

“I'm sorry! I'm just…hold on a sec”

Adele waited while Ronnie scooped sugar and cream into two cups and handed one to her. She scooted over to make space for two.

She took a sip and let the heat scald her tongue before swallowing. Ronnie watched her, her beautiful face a mix of concern and frustration.

“Baby, I'm gonna say this with as much love as I can muster. You need to get off your behind and get a job. You can't keep sleeping on my couch. Your mom needs you, Ads. You can't just give up. There's still something out there. Forget about Julian. He's protected. But you…you have no cover. You need to get your life together. Please “

Adele swallowed back tears and stared down into her cup.

Ronnie was right. She can't continue to live like this.

Ronnie's voice cut through her thoughts.

“I'll make some more calls and see what I can get. If not, you can always come work for me.”

She loved Ronnie, but she couldn't work for her and still live with her. It would be too much.

Instead she just nodded and sniffed.

Ronnie kissed her forehead and headed for the door.

Adele turned up the TV volume, but she overheard Ronnie talking to someone.

Then footsteps coming towards her. She sat up straight and watched Ronnie saunter in with a tall dark stranger in a finely tailored suit. His cologne permeated the air and made Adele pay attention to him. He looked like he was handpicked from God's favourite collection.

When he spoke, his smooth baritone carried throughout the small living room.

“Hello, Adele. My name is Elliot Carter. I don't think we've met.”

He extended a well manicured hand but Adele didn't take it.

She stared past him and cocked an eyebrow at Ronnie who was eating him up with her eyes.

Who is this guy and why is he in our apartment?

“I'm friends with Julian. Julian Hawthorne”

Of course. More drama.

“He wants to meet with you. Right now, if you don't have somewhere to be.”

Ronnie stepped in.

“Actually, we have somewhere to be.”

Adele sighed and shook her head.

“Leave it, Ron. I want to know what he has to say”

What else could she stand to lose?