CHAPTER 7

Julius

I woke to the sound of panicked breathing beside me.

My eyes snapped open immediately, years of business instinct kicking in. It was clear that something was wrong.

Jane sat upright in my bed, the sheet clutched to her chest, her breathing rapid and shallow and her face pale.

"Jane?" I sat up, reaching for her instinctively.

She flinched away from my touch, and that small movement hit me harder than it should have.

"I can't—I shouldn't—" Her words tumbled out in fragments, her chest heaving. "Oh God, what did I do? What did we—"

She was having a panic attack. I recognized it immediately. I had seen enough high-pressure executives crack under stress to know the signs, but this wasn't business.

This was personal, and seeing Jane like this, terrified and spiraling, sent a protective surge through me that I had been fighting for a while.

Ever since Hudson had first brought her to a family dinner and I had watched her navigate his cruelty with grace.

"Jane, look at me," I kept my voice calm, steady, even as concern twisted in my gut.

When she didn't respond, I reached out slowly, telegraphing my movements, and cupped her face gently between my hands. "Breathe with me. In through your nose."

I demonstrated, exaggerating the breath so she could follow. She tried, but it came out as a gasp.

"Again," I said firmly. "You're safe. I've got you. Just breathe."

It took several minutes, her eyes locked on mine, following my breathing pattern before her panic started to subside.

The color gradually returned to her face, her breathing evening out, though her hands still trembled where they gripped the sheet.

"There you go," I murmured, stroking her cheeks with my thumbs. "That's better."

Jane closed her eyes, a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh escaping her throat. "I'm sorry. I just woke up and realized what I did. What we did."

I let my hands fall away, giving her space even though every instinct screamed at me to pull her close. "What we did wasn't wrong, Jane."

"Yes, it was." Her eyes opened, and the anguish in them gutted me. "It was so wrong, Julius. You're Hudson's father. His father. I was supposed to marry him yesterday, and instead I—we—"

She couldn't even say it.

I sat back against the headboard, forcing myself to stay calm. "Hudson fucked your best friend minutes before your wedding."

"I know," Her voice cracked. "I know what he did was horrible, but that doesn't make what I did right. Two wrongs don't make a right. I betrayed him. I'm just as bad as he is now."

The words were so absurd I almost laughed. Almost. "You're comparing yourself to Hudson?"

"I cheated on him with his own father!" The words burst out of her and they were raw and desperate. "How is that not worse? How am I supposed to face him now? Face anyone?"

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell her exactly how delusional that comparison was, but something in her expression stopped me.

She needed to get this out. She needed to process whatever spiral her mind had created overnight. So I shut my mouth and let her speak.

"Last night was a mistake," She continued, her words gaining momentum like a runaway train. "A huge, terrible mistake. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was hurt and angry and I wanted to hurt Hudson back, but that's not who I am. I'm not the kind of person who does things like this."

Each word felt like a knife between my ribs, but I kept my face neutral.

"I need to go back to him," She wasn't looking at me anymore, staring at her hands instead.

"I need to apologize. I need to ask him to take me back, to give me another chance. We can still get married, still make this work if we—"

"Jane—"

"No, listen to me," Her eyes met mine finally, pleading.

"I'm nothing without Hudson. Do you understand that? I'm twenty three years old with a mediocre job and no prospects. Hudson is successful, established and important. If I don't marry him, no one else will want me. I'll be the girl who got left at the altar. The girl who wasn't good enough. I'll end up alone and—"

"Stop," The single word came out sharper than I intended. I took a breath, moderating my tone. "Jane, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

She shook her head stubbornly. "It's true. Hudson told me—"

"Hudson told you a lot of things, apparently, and they were all bullshit designed to keep you compliant." I leaned forward, willing her to see reason.

"You're not nothing. You're not worthless without him. Hudson is a piece of shit who systematically broke you down because weak men like him need women they can control."

"You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," My voice hardened despite my best efforts. "I understand that my son is a manipulative bastard who treated you like property. I understand that he fucked your best friend because he knew he could get away with it. Because he had trained you so well that even after catching him, you're sitting here talking about going back to him."

Jane flinched, but I couldn't stop now.

"He doesn't love you, Jane. He never did. You're not a person to him. You're an accessory. A status symbol. Something pretty to have on his arm while he fucks whoever he wants behind your back."

"That's not it." But her protest was weak, uncertain.

"It is," I said firmly. "And somewhere deep down, you know it. That's why you left. That's why you got in my car. That's why you let me—"

"Don't," She held up a hand, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "Please don't make last night mean something it didn't. It was revenge sex. A mistake. That's all."

That hurt worse than her panic. It was worse than her wanting to go back to Hudson. The dismissal of what we had shared.

The intensity, the connection and the way she had responded to me was reduced to nothing but a mistake, but I built an empire by knowing when to push and when to retreat.

This wasn't a battle I could win with words. Not when Hudson's poison was still coursing through her mind.

"Fine," I said quietly. "If that's what you need to believe."

Jane wrapped the sheet tighter around herself, sliding off the bed. Her wedding dress lay crumpled on the floor, and she reached for it with trembling hands.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Getting dressed. I need to go." She struggled with the zipper, the delicate lace snagging.

"You're not wearing that."

"That's all I have."

"Jane," I stood, pulling on my discarded pants from last night. "At least shower first. Let me give you some clean clothes."

She hesitated, clearly torn between her desperate need to flee and basic practicality.

"Please," I added, gentler. "Just a shower. Then I'll make you breakfast before you go."

"Julius—"

"Humor me," I said. "Consider it a farewell courtesy."

The word "farewell" seemed to break something in her. She nodded numbly, clutching the sheet as she headed toward the bathroom.

I showed her where the towels were, how the shower worked and all the mundane details that felt surreal given what we had done in my bed hours ago.

When the bathroom door closed and I heard the water start, I sank onto the edge of the bed and scrubbed my hands over my face.

Fuck.

This was not how I had expected this morning to go. I had imagined waking up with Jane in my arms, taking my time exploring her body in the morning light, convincing her to stay for breakfast that turned into lunch that turned into spending the entire day in bed.

Instead, she was having a breakdown and planning to crawl back to my worthless son.

The rage I had been suppressing since yesterday roared back to life. Hudson. This was all Hudson's fault.

The manipulation, the gaslighting and the systematic destruction of Jane's self-worth until she actually believed she needed him.

My son was a monster, and I had known it for years.

I had watched it happen slowly. The first time Hudson had brought Jane to meet me, she had been different, still quiet, still soft-spoken, but there had been a light in her eyes. A genuine smile.

She was exceptionally beautiful, and it was the kind of beauty that wasn't just physical but radiated from within. She was gentle and kind and she was everything my son wasn't.

I had felt something I had no right to feel. An instant pull. An attraction. A desire to know her, protect her and claim her.

I had buried it, of course. She was Hudson's girlfriend. Then his fiancée. Completely off-limits, but I couldn't help noticing things. I couldn't help the way my attention tracked to her whenever she was in a room.

Over the years, I watched Hudson systematically dim that light. The way he spoke to her was sharp, dismissive and cruel. Always toned down when I was around, but not enough.

I had seen the way Jane would flinch at his tone, the way she would make herself smaller, quieter, trying to anticipate his moods and avoid his displeasure.

"Can't you do anything right?" Hudson had snapped at her once during a family dinner, because she'd accidentally knocked over a wine glass. The venom in his voice had made my blood boil.

"Hudson," I said sharply. "It's a glass. Jane, don't worry about it. Happens all the time."

Hudson had given me a look that said he thought I was being ridiculous, but he had backed off. For the moment.

Another time, I overheard him on the phone with her in my study. "No, Jane, I don't give a shit if you're tired. You'll wear what I tell you to wear to the gala. Jesus, why do you have to be so difficult about everything?"

I walked in, and Hudson had immediately softened his tone, switching to false sweetness. "Babe, I'm just trying to help you look your best. You know I only want what's good for you."

I wanted to rip the phone from his hand and tell Jane to run, but what right did I have? She was an adult. If she chose to stay with Hudson, that was her decision.

Except it hadn't really been a choice, had it? Hudson had been so careful, so systematic in breaking her down. Making her dependent on him. Convincing her she was nothing without him, and I stood by and watched it happen.