CHAPTER 4

JULIAN'S POV

Three days have passed since Esmeralda kicked me out of our bedroom. Three days of sleeping in my office, working until 2 AM, avoiding the apartment when she's awake.

It's easier this way. Less confrontation. Less of that look in her eyes hurt and accusation and something I don't want to name.

Tonight I come home earlier than usual. The apartment is dark except for lights from the kitchen. Something smells good garlic, wine, her famous coq au vin that I used to love.

I find her at the stove, dressed in something that isn't sweatpants for the first time in weeks. A simple black dress, her hair down, makeup carefully applied to hide the shadows under her eyes.

She's made an effort.

"Hey," I say from the doorway.

She turns, and I see hope flicker across her face before she tamps it down. "Hi. I made dinner. I thought... I thought maybe we could talk."

The table is set. Candles. Wine. She's trying to salvage something, and part of me admires the effort even as another part resents the obligation of it.

"That's nice, but I already ate. Client dinner." The lie comes easily. I'd grabbed a sandwich at my desk hours ago, but sitting through this performance feels exhausting.

Her face falls. "Oh. I didn't…you didn't tell me."

"It was last minute." I loosen my tie, suddenly desperate to be out of this suit, out of this conversation. "I'm pretty tired. Long day."

"Julian, please. Just... Can we talk for a few minutes? About us? About what happens next?"

What happens next? The question I've been avoiding.

"There's nothing to talk about right now. You need to heal. I need to work. We'll figure things out when you're feeling better."

"I am feeling better." She steps closer, and I can smell her perfume the one I bought her for our anniversary. "Physically, at least. And I thought... I thought maybe if we could just reconnect—"

"Esme, I really am tired." I move past her toward the office. "Maybe this weekend. We'll do something nice."

Another lie. My calendar is blocked for a weekend retreat in the Hamptons. With Vivienne and her family and potential investors.

"You're pulling away from me." Her voice cracks. "Ever since the pregnancy, you've been different. Distant. And now with the miscarriage—"

"I'm not pulling away. I'm dealing with it in my own way. Not everyone grieves the same."

"You're not grieving at all!" The words explode out of her. "You barely acknowledged it happened. You weren't there when I needed you, and now you can't even sit through one dinner with me!"

"Because I'm drowning!" The admission surprises us both. "Because this company is at a critical juncture, and I can't afford to fall apart right now. Because Damien Hale just acquired two of my biggest competitors, and if I don't secure this Laurent investment, I'm going to fall so far behind—"

I stop myself, but it's too late. I've said her name.

"Laurent," Esmeralda repeats slowly. "Vivienne Laurent."

"It's business, Esme. Just business."

"Then why won't you look at me when you say it?"

I force myself to meet her eyes. "You're being paranoid."

"Am I? Because your mother made it very clear that Vivienne would be a better fit for you. And now you're telling me you need this investment so badly that you can't even have dinner with your own wife?"

"My mother has opinions. That doesn't mean—"

"She called me, Julian." Esmeralda's voice drops to something dangerous. "Vivienne called me. To 'introduce herself' since we'll be 'seeing so much of each other.' She wanted me to know how closely you'll be working. How dedicated you are."

Fuck. I didn't know Vivienne had reached out. That was overstepping.

"That was inappropriate of her. I'll talk to—"

"Don't." She holds up a hand. "Don't pretend you're going to defend me. You haven't defended me since this all started. You've been so busy courting her and her family that you forgot you have a wife at home bleeding and broken."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair!" She's crying now, angry tears. "I lost our baby, Julian. OUR baby. And you can't even pretend to care because you're too busy planning our future without me in it!"

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to!" She swipes at her tears. "I see it in the way you look at me. Or don't look at me. I see it in how you sleep in your office, work late every night, take every opportunity to not be here. You're already gone. You're just too much of a coward to admit it."

The word hangs between us. Coward.

She's not wrong.

"Maybe..." I start, then stop. Restart. "Maybe we should take some space. Until things calm down. Until you're in a better headspace."

"A better headspace." She laughs, the sound brittle. "You mean until I'm okay with you replacing me?"

"No one is replacing you. But this marriage…it's not working right now. We both know it. You want things I can't give you. I want—" I catch myself.

"What?" she presses. "What do you want, Julian? Say it."

I want Vivienne's world. Her connections. Her effortless grace. A wife who understands that business comes first, who doesn't call forty-three times during a critical dinner.

But I can't say that. Not yet.

"I want you to be reasonable," I say instead. "To understand that I'm under enormous pressure. That I can't be everything you need right now."

"I don't need everything. I just need my husband."

"And you have me."

"Do I?" She walks to the counter, picks up her phone. "Because this morning I found an earring in your car. Vivienne's, I assume. Diamond and emerald. Very expensive. Very her."

My stomach drops. The earring. I'd forgotten about the earring.

"That's from she left it after a meeting. I was going to return it"

"Stop." Her voice is dead calm now. Worse than the crying. "Just stop lying to me. I know what's happening. Your mother made sure I knew. Vivienne made sure I knew. The only person pretending I don't know is you."

"Esmeralda"

"Get out."

"This is my apartment."

"Then I'll leave." She sets down the phone, starts walking toward the bedroom. "I'll pack a bag, I'll go to Lila's, and you can have your space. You and Vivienne and your perfect life without the wife who couldn't even keep your baby alive."

The words are a blade. I should stop her. Should fight for this, for us.

But the relief I feel as she disappears into the bedroom tells me everything I need to know.

I don't want to fight for this marriage.

I want out.

An hour later, she emerges with a suitcase. Her eyes are red but dry. She's composed herself into something hard and cold.

"The lawyer will be in touch about the divorce," she says.

"Let's not be hasty. Take some time to think—"

"I've thought. You don't get to lie to my face about another woman and then tell me I'm being hasty." She pulls out her wedding ring, sets it on the entry table with a soft click. "You win, Julian. You get your space. You get Vivienne. You get everything you wanted."

"Esme, wait—"

But she's already gone, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoes through the empty apartment.

I stand in the hallway, staring at her wedding ring glinting under the foyer lights.

I should feel guilty. Devastated. Something.

Instead, I feel light. Untethered. Free.

I pick up my phone and text Vivienne: *Dinner tomorrow? Just us. I need to discuss some things.

Her response is immediate: I would love to. I know just the place.

I pocket the phone and walk to the windows. The city glitters below, full of possibility.

Esmeralda will be fine. She'll heal, move on, find someone better suited to her needs.

And I'll build the empire I was always meant to build. With someone who understands what that requires.

It's better this way.

For both of us.

I almost believe it.