Ch62 - No ‘but’

Two days later, Serena used some random excuse about “checking in on them” and showed up at their apartment.

Violet opened the door. The surprise flickered across her face for a moment, but she still offered a polite smile and stepped aside to let Serena in.

Serena arched a brow—she hated how this place wasn’t hers. Well, technically it should’ve been. It used to belong to her husband. 

After he died, she figured it would default back to her, but he'd already signed the papers long ago—this apartment was Julian’s eighteenth-birthday gift. 

And when he passed, Julian was only one month away from turning eighteen. Serena had known nothing about it until the property transferred over. By then, it was too late for her to contest anything.

So now walking in like a “guest” made her chest tighten with annoyance.

She forced a thin smile and strode straight into the living room, arms crossed, claiming the middle seat of the long couch. Her eyes drifted across the space—the decor was mostly unchanged, but the giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the whole city were still as stunning as ever. The place was so luxurious even she felt envy pinch her.

She tore her gaze away, voice airy and careless. “Where’s Julian? It’s the weekend. He’s not home with you? Where’d he run off to now?”

Violet’s heart skipped. She had no idea—he’d left early that morning without saying much.

Thankfully, Mrs. Jones walked in with drinks, cutting the awkward tension. She gently set a cup down in front of Serena. “Not sure if your preferences have changed.”

Serena instantly slipped into her friendly mask, eyeliner curving as she smiled. “You always nail it. I’ve always said I should bring you over to my place, but you keep turning me down.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m getting older. My plan is to stay here a few more years and then move back home.”

“England’s dull. Life here’s much better—you’ll be miserable in the countryside over there,” Serena said, lifting the delicate porcelain cup with a little flick of her pinky. One sip, and the temperature was perfect.

Mrs. Jones gave a small smile. “You might be right. I’ve lived here over twenty years. Still… my family’s all back home. I think I’ll return eventually.”

“Fair enough. I won’t push,” Serena said, though her tone made the “pity” obvious.

Once the small talk ended, Mrs. Jones excused herself.

Serena set the cup down with a loud clink, making the saucer ring. “I heard you two are flying to Switzerland next week.”

“Yes. He said he went straight back to work after the wedding and didn’t get any time together, so this is our delayed honeymoon.” Violet had practiced this exact answer—whoever asked, she gave the same line.

Serena shot her a look. “Great. Then you can pick up a watch for me while you’re there. I sent one in for repair and I don’t trust anyone else to get it. You bring it back.”

Violet blinked. Switzerland was huge—where exactly? And luxury watches usually had secured delivery, so why insist she go? If Serena just wanted to make things difficult, this was… oddly specific.

“It’s not a delivery run,” Serena added, as if reading her mind. “You’re in watchmaking now, aren’t you? I’d rather have someone who knows the craft pick it up and check whether it’s actually fixed.”

It didn’t shock Violet that Serena knew where she worked. What puzzled her was why it had to be her. “We’re going to Montreux. It might not be on the way.”

“It’s on the way,” Serena cut her off. “The atelier’s right in central Zurich. You two will go shopping anyway—you can stop by.”

“But—”

“No ‘but.’ You can’t even do one tiny thing for me? And here I was thinking of properly accepting you into the family. This is your attitude?” Serena’s voice sharpened instantly.

If it really was just picking up a watch, Violet wouldn’t mind. She just couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

Serena didn’t wait for her agreement—she tossed the retrieval documents onto the table. “Be careful with it. My husband gave me that watch. You can’t buy it anymore, even with money.”

After Serena left, Violet stared blankly at the still-steaming coffee cup, her mind tangled.

The moment Julian got home, she told him everything.

To her surprise, his expression barely moved. He just said, flat and calm: “If it’s on the way, just grab it for her.”

——

A week later, they boarded the flight to Zurich. It was a 6:30 p.m. departure. They had dinner in first class, Violet took a quick shower in the suite, and when she came out, the flight attendant had already made her bed. She lay down and knocked out instantly—she never imagined long-haul flying could feel this comfortable.

Eight hours later, morning sunlight spilled across the window frame, but the divider connecting her suite to Julian’s never opened once. He must’ve been exhausted. He looked it when they boarded—red-rimmed eyes, that drained expression like he hadn’t slept in days.

When they got off the plane, he looked a bit better, though his lips were a little swollen and he kept coughing. 

While they were in line for passport control, Julian and his assistant Craig split to different lanes. Violet lowered her voice and asked Craig, “What’s wrong with his eyes? Did he eat something he shouldn’t?”

Craig glanced ahead, making sure Julian was out of range before answering. “Before heading to the airport, he had lunch at the company cafeteria. Somehow that dish had lycopene in it. Luckily he barely touched it and I shoved meds at him right away. Otherwise the allergic reaction would've been worse.”

Allergic?

That was the first time Violet realized Julian wasn’t just “picky” with tomatoes—he was allergic. She knew this kind of allergy wasn’t fatal, but the itching in the lips and throat could be horrible.

Craig kept going, oblivious to her surprise. “So yeah—no tomatoes, and he avoids apples, peaches, cherries too.”

“You sound way too calm.”

“Because it’s happened a million times. Sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose…” Craig shrugged like it was nothing. “Only family and inner staff—like me and Jay—know about it. That’s why he’s super careful eating out.”

Violet listened quietly. On purpose?

Who the hell was intentionally messing with his food… and more than once?

They didn’t get to talk longer—her turn at passport control came up. After she walked off, Craig suddenly wondered whether he should’ve told her all that. It should be fine, right? 

He assumed Violet already knew Julian’s allergens anyway—otherwise if she ate something risky, then kissed him later, that’d be a disaster.

For this trip, Julian only brought Craig and Jay. The rest of the security team blended into the crowd as “tourists.”

Their car was already waiting outside. They arrived smoothly at the Mandarin Oriental. The hotel was tucked between three famous historic buildings, and from the balcony could basically read the city’s entire past. The terrace was carved from stone, each column topped with a sculpted human figure.

Violet leaned on the railing, letting the soft Swiss breeze wrap around her. She was mesmerized. It was her first time in Switzerland, and everything about this place pulled her in—calm, clean, breathtaking—like her whole nervous system was finally allowed to breathe.

“You wanna go walk around?”

Julian’s voice came from behind her.