CHAPTER 6

ESMERALDA'S POV

I didn't really sleep, I just lied there through out the night, drifting in and out of shallow rest, my mind replaying every word I overheard until it loses meaning and sharpness and still refuses to let me go.

When morning finally comes, it doesn’t feel like relief. It feels like exposure.

I wake up with my chest tight and my head aching, the certainty of the night before sitting heavy in my bones.

Whatever Julian and his mother decided didn’t end when I closed my eyes. If anything, it settled deeper.

I get out of bed before I can change my mind.

The shower is hot, almost scalding, but I barely feel it. I go through the motions on autopilot wash, rinse, breathe trying to quiet the noise in my head.

By the time I’m done, my body feels clean, but the heaviness remains, and I reach for my phone.

The screen lights up with a notification.

A message from Julian’s mother.

Good morning, Esmeralda.

I’d like to see you today. There are a few things we need to discuss.

Lunch. La Bernardin. Noon.

My stomach drops.

So this is how it begins huh, not a question, no concern, just like an appointment.

I stare at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen, Part of me wants to ignore it. Pretend I didn’t see it. Pretend I still have a choice.

But I already know the truth.

Whatever Celeste has planned, avoiding it won’t change the outcome. It will only delay the inevitable.

I lock my phone and sit on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly.

If this is the moment they intend to push me out of my marriage, then I won’t walk into it unprepared.

I stand, already knowing I’ll go.

The restaurant Celeste chose is La Bernardin,elegant, expensive, the kind of place where Julian proposed to me three years ago. The memory makes my chest ache.

I almost canceled. I've barely left Lila's apartment in days. But when Celeste called with her warm, concerned voice saying "We need to talk, darling, just us girls," some desperate part of me hoped she might help. Maybe she could talk to Julian. Maybe she could fix this.

I'm wearing one of my nicer dresses, though it hangs looser than it should. I haven't had much appetite.

Celeste is already seated, immaculate in Chanel. She stands to air-kiss me, and I catch the flash of pity in her eyes.

"Darling, sit, sit." She gestures to the chair across from her. "You look... well, you look like you've been through an ordeal. Understandable, of course."

I sit, feeling small under her assessing gaze.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, her tone dripping with concern. "Really?"

"I'm... managing. It's been hard." My voice wavers despite my best effort. "Has Julian said anything? About us? About maybe talking things through?"

Her expression shifts, something almost like discomfort before she smooths it away. "That's actually what I wanted to discuss with you. Woman to woman."

Hope flutters in my chest. "Is he willing to try counseling? I've been thinking—"

"Darling, no." She reaches across the table, pats my hand. "I think we need to be realistic about the situation."

The hope dies as quickly as it came.

"You and Julian," she continues gently, "you've been struggling for quite some time. Even before the pregnancy. You must have felt it."

"Every marriage has problems—"

"Of course. But some marriages are simply... mismatched." She picks up her menu. "Julian needs a certain kind of partner. Someone who understands the demands of his position. The sacrifices required to build an empire."

"I understand—"

"Do you?" Her eyes meet mine, kind but firm. "Because showing up at his office, calling him constantly... darling, that's not understanding. That's desperation."

The words sting. "I just want to talk to him. To fix things."

"There's nothing to fix." She says it so matter-of-factly, like she's discussing the weather. "Julian has made his decision. The kindest thing you can do now is accept it gracefully."

"But I love him." My voice breaks. "I'm his wife."

"You were his wife. Past tense." The waiter appears and Celeste orders for both of us without asking what I want. When he leaves, she leans forward. "Darling, I'm going to be frank because I care about you. You're a lovely girl, truly. But Julian needs more than lovely. He needs... substantial."

"Substantial?"

"Old money. Breeding. A woman from his world who understands what's expected." She takes a sip of her water. "Someone like Vivienne Laurent."

The name lands like a stone in my stomach.

"You know about her?"

"Of course I know about her. Her family has been friends with ours for years. She's everything Julian needs accomplished, connected, from excellent stock. And she's already proven she can give a man children. Two healthy, beautiful children."

Proven. Like I'm livestock that failed inspection.

"Julian and I could still have children," I say weakly. "The doctor said—"

"Doctors say many things to be encouraging. But the reality is, you've already failed once." She says it so casually, like she's commenting on a failed business venture. "And Julian can't afford to waste years trying again. He needs an heir. The Voss name needs to continue."

"We could adopt—"

"Adopt?" She laughs, the sound light and cruel. "Darling, the Voss legacy doesn't continue through adoption. Julian needs a biological heir. From good bloodlines." She pauses. "Vivienne's children are exceptional. Strong genes. Good breeding on both sides."

I feel sick.

"Are you... are you trying to set them up?"

"I'm trying to help Julian build the life he deserves. The life he should have had from the beginning." She reaches across, pats my hand again. "This isn't personal, Esmeralda. You're simply not equipped for this world. Some women are born for it—the galas, the pressure, the constant scrutiny. Others..." She trails off meaningfully.

"Others like me."

"Others who are better suited for simpler lives. There's no shame in it."

The waiter returns with our food. I stare at the salmon on my plate, unable to imagine eating.

"Julian speaks very highly of Vivienne," Celeste continues, cutting into her Dover sole. "They have so much in common. Similar backgrounds, similar goals. And she understands that a man like Julian needs space to build his empire. She won't burden him with emotional demands."

Each word is a small knife.

"He used to love me," I whisper.

"I'm sure he was fond of you. But fondness isn't enough for a marriage of this caliber." She dabs her mouth with her napkin. "The kindest thing the most dignified thing would be to sign the divorce papers when they arrive. Take the settlement. Start fresh somewhere new."

"What settlement?"

"Whatever Julian offers, I'm sure it will be generous. He's not a cruel man." She meets my eyes. "But if you fight him on this, if you make things difficult... well. He has resources you can't imagine. Lawyers who could tie you up in court for years. It would get ugly, darling. And you would lose."

The threat is delivered with a smile.

"I just want to talk to him," I say again, hating how small my voice sounds. "Please. Can you just ask him to meet with me? One conversation?"

Celeste sighs, like I'm a child who won't listen to reason. "I'll mention it. But Esmeralda, you need to prepare yourself. Julian has moved on. He's spending this weekend in the Hamptons with Vivienne and her children. Getting to know them better. Bonding."

The image makes me want to cry.

"This weekend?"

"Yes. They're quite the family already. Vivienne's children adore him. Call him 'Uncle Julian.' It's very sweet." She takes another bite. "He's always wanted to be a father. It's wonderful to see him finally have that opportunity."

With someone else's children. Not ours. Not the baby we lost.

I can't breathe.

"Excuse me." I stand abruptly. "I need to—bathroom."

I make it to the bathroom before the tears come. Lock myself in a stall and sob as quietly as I can, pressing my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

Julian is in the Hamptons with Vivienne and her children. Playing house with a ready-made family while I'm still bleeding from losing ours.

When I finally compose myself enough to return, Celeste is signing the check.

"Feeling better?" she asks, sympathy thick in her voice.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Good. Now, I want you to really think about what I said. Sign the papers. Take the money. Move on with dignity." She stands, smooths her skirt. "Fighting this will only hurt you more. And honestly, darling, you've been hurt enough. Don't you think?"

I nod, unable to speak.

She kisses my cheek. "You're a sweet girl. You'll land on your feet. Just... not with my son."

Then she's gone, leaving me standing in the restaurant with the wreckage of my last hope.

I take a cab back to Lila's in a daze.

When she opens the door and sees my face, she pulls me inside. "What happened?"

"She told me to give up." I sink onto the couch. "That Julian's already moved on. That he's spending the weekend with Vivienne and her children. That I should just... disappear."

"Fuck her."

"She's right though." The words hurt to say. "I've been calling him constantly. Showing up at his office. Looking desperate and pathetic. And he's already building a new family."

"Esme—"

"I need to accept it, Lila. It's over. He doesn't want me anymore. Fighting it is just going to make me look worse."

She grabs my shoulders. "Listen to me. You're in shock. You're grieving. But don't let that bitch convince you to roll over and die."

"I'm not dying. I'm just... accepting reality." I look at her, eyes blurred with tears. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm not cut out for his world. Maybe I never was."

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? I couldn't even keep his baby alive. I can't give him the heir he needs. I'm just... in the way."

Lila looks like she wants to argue, but what can she say? Everything Celeste said was true. Julian has moved on. I'm clinging to a marriage that's already dead.

My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Saw you at La Bernardin. You deserve better than how they're treating you. If you ever want to talk, I'm here. —A friend

I stare at it, confused. Who would be watching me? Who cares enough to reach out?

I don't respond. Just turn off my phone and curl up on Lila's couch, feeling smaller and more hopeless than I have since the hospital.

Celeste was right about one thing: I've been hurt enough.

I just don't know how to stop hurting.