Ch13 - I don’t need this

Violet quietly rolled the car window back up. The air inside grew heavier—Julian was clearly pissed. Maybe it was her unexpected appearance tonight that had set him off.

“Alright. I’m sorry. Today was my last shift, I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.” She meant it, but her eyes couldn’t help drifting back down to the watch on her wrist.

Julian thought about how his idiot friends had been eyeing her earlier, treating her like some toy to mess with. The thought alone felt like a weight pressing on his chest. For a second, he even wanted to tell the whole room she was his wife—just so those greedy stares would back the hell off.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. That impulse felt foreign. He’d never once publicly claimed any girlfriend before. Usually, when people guessed, he’d just laugh it off.

And besides, Violet wasn’t really his wife—just a name on paper so he could get the shares. Their deal lasted a year, nothing more. Adding feelings into the mix would only make things messy, and that was the last thing he needed.

He forced himself back into his usual cool, rational state. No distractions. No weakness.

Still, her reaction to the watch caught him off guard. From the moment they got in the car to when they got back home, her focus never left it. Later, when he knocked on her door, he spotted it sitting neatly on her bedside table. She’d laid it on a silk scarf, right next to what must have been a photo of her parents.

Julian tilted his head, confused. “I’ve got plenty of watches like that. You don’t have to treat it like some sacred relic.”

But Violet just smiled, soft and genuine in a way he hadn’t seen before. “This one’s different.”

He froze for a beat—her smile throwing him off more than he liked. Different. He hoped it didn’t mean what he thought it did. Looking away, he dropped it. “There’s a family gathering next week. You’re coming with me.”

After the watch incident, he noticed her attitude toward him shift. She wasn’t as cold anymore, even seemed friendlier. That throwaway gift had turned into some kind of turning point.

Since she didn’t have to work, Violet buried herself in books about watches. She even hit the flea markets, picking up battered old antiques to study. Soon, she’d set up a makeshift workbench in her room—magnifying glass, gloves, tweezers, tiny gears scattered around. She could spend an entire afternoon taking a watch apart and putting it back together.

Julian, who almost never ate at home, started noticing breakfast on the table every morning. Not just random stuff—different meals every day, tailored to his diet, high-protein for his workouts. He caught himself looking forward to it.

One morning, he hummed to himself while scrolling through his phone, heading downstairs. No food on the table yet, so he wandered into the kitchen. “Not ready yet?”

Glancing inside, his eyes paused. A woman stood at the kitchen island, back to him, focused on what she was doing. She wore a thin white slip dress that clung to her curves, her long golden-brown hair shining in the morning light.

For a second, the sight made his thoughts go somewhere else entirely.

Violet turned at the sound of his voice, smiling lightly. “Almost done. One more minute.”

Julian hesitated, then spun on his heel and walked back out to the dining room.

She came out soon after, setting a steaming cup of kopi luwak coffee in front of him, along with a salad—no tomatoes, because she knew he hated them—and a perfectly soft-boiled egg.

Violet sat beside him, propped her chin in her hand, and nudged him with a smile. “Eat before you’re late again.”

Her tone was casual, natural. Like this was their routine, like she’d always been here watching him drag his feet until the driver reminded him to leave.

So that’s what had been happening these past mornings—she was the one making breakfast.

Julian raised a brow while eating, his fork lazily cutting into the egg white. “Not bad.”

He didn’t even look at her, distracted, just poking at his plate. “But you don’t need to do this. We’ve got a butler, maids, a chef—that’s their job.”

Violet sipped her coffee. “I just wanted to at least look like a wife. And… after you gave me something so valuable, I thought I should do something for you in return.”

Julian glanced at her—before the coffee, he caught the scent of her shower gel. He suddenly lost his appetite, set his fork down, and knocked back the rest of his coffee. “I don’t need this.”

Her hand froze on the cup, then she answered softly, “Okay.”

“I’m heading out. Don’t wait up.” He grabbed his coat and left.

After that night, he didn’t come back to the penthouse. Not until a few days later, when the family dinner rolled around, did they meet again. Julian sent a driver to pick her up, to get to his office, then they rode together to his uncle Richard’s house.

Richard’s wife, Nora, ushered everyone to their seats. Violet ended up beside Marcus’s fiancée, Allison. They were set to marry in three months, yet somehow the two of them felt colder than she and Julian did.

Dinner was quiet—just light small talk, nothing personal. Violet fit right in, keeping her head down and focusing on the food.

She could feel Serena’s stare on her at first, sharp as a knife, but compared to her, Nora was almost warm. Nora smiled kindly. “I have to say, your table manners are impressive.”

Violet’s hand stilled. Her mother had drilled those manners into her since she was little; she hadn’t even realized anyone would notice.

Before she could answer, Serena cut in, voice sweet but loaded. “Oh, don’t tease her. My little girl’s been working hard to fit in with our family.”

The implication was clear—Violet had clawed her way up, desperate to marry into money.

Violet’s brows drew together just slightly, but then she felt a weight on her thigh. Looking down, she saw Julian’s hand resting there, giving her a light pat.

He looked up with an easy, harmless smile. “Yeah, just like you did when you first married into the family, Mom.”

The table went quiet. Julian’s words were sharp, but the casual way he’d called her Mom threw people off. To anyone who didn’t know better, it sounded affectionate, not cutting.

And everyone did know—Serena had come from a much smaller fortune. Compared to the Ashfords, her family was nothing. Marrying Julian’s father had been her ticket up the ladder.

Pot, meet kettle.

Serena’s smile froze, then she forced out a laugh. “You see? He really has changed. Knows how to stand up for his wife now, so sweet.”

“Of course. A wife’s meant to be cherished.” Julian turned to Marcus. “Right, cousin?”

Marcus smiled and nodded, but Julian tilted his head. “What’s with the face? You look pissed.”

Marcus wasn’t the only one—his fiancée, Allison, looked equally sour. They hadn’t spoken once all evening, like they’d just come from a fight.

Nora swooped in to save face. “Oh, don’t mind them. Probably just nerves with the wedding coming up. Why don’t you two have a chat later, hmm?”

“Sure,” Julian smirked, shooting Marcus a look. “Two weeks into married life and I’ve already got advice to share.”

But before he could corner him, Marcus claimed he had a late international call and slipped out. Allison trailed after him.

The moment they stepped outside, Allison exploded. “WHAT the hell was that? You sulking through dinner—how do you think that makes me look in front of your family?”

Marcus spun on her, eyes flashing. “KEEP your voice down! Haven’t you embarrassed me enough already?”

Her chin lifted, sharp and cold. “YOU’re just mad I didn’t get pregnant this month, aren’t you? God forbid your stock options slip. I’m just a baby machine to you, huh?”