Ch7 - You better run

“Marcus, what are you doing up here?” Julian’s voice cut through the hall. He came from behind Marcus, walked straight over to Violet, and gave her a once-over. “Took you long enough. I came up to see what was keeping you.”

His eyes swept her dress. “Damn, that gown looks good on you.”

Violet wasn’t exactly touched—she felt like the corset was killing her. Between the suffocating dress and fending off his cousin, Julian’s sudden appearance was a relief. She slipped her arm through his, smiled, and said lightly, “Really? Your cousin was just saying you’ve had plenty of gorgeous girls. I must be nothing special then.”

“Oh yeah?” Julian smirked, turning to Marcus. “You really say that? Talking shit about me to my wife already? What, you trying to scare her off on day one?” He gave Marcus a playful jab in the chest with his fist.

Marcus forced a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just curious what kind of girl could actually tame you. You know we’ve always worried about you.”

“Sure, I know you all love me.” Julian’s grin lingered, but his words cut sharper. “But if you’ve got something to say, say it to me. Don’t corner Violet. She doesn’t need to deal with it—and I don’t want any stupid misunderstandings between us.” He lowered his gaze to Violet, eyes soft with fake affection.

Marcus’s smile faltered. “I didn’t even say anything, and you’re already playing the knight in shining armor.”

“Good. Otherwise I’d think you’re just pissed I beat you to the altar.”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Marcus’s face before he cleared his throat. “Anyway, enough standing around. Everyone’s waiting downstairs. Take your bride and go join them.”

“Good man. I’ll go first.” Julian flashed Marcus a mischievous look and muttered as he passed, “I’ll let you know later if marriage really is a prison.”

Marcus’s fists clenched at his sides as he watched them walk away, hand in hand. Under his breath, he muttered, “Is he really that stupid… or just pretending?”

On the spiral staircase down to the hall, Violet asked quietly, “Aren’t you curious what he said to me?”

Julian laughed out loud. “Let me guess—he told you I’m a screw-up, a womanizer, and you’d be smart to run from me?”

Violet nodded. He’d nailed it word for word.

Julian gave her a sidelong look. Her expression was steady, untouched by Marcus’s attempt to rattle her. Which made sense—His public reputation was exactly that, and it’s not like this was a real marriage. Why would she care? He added, “So yeah, don’t ever fall for an asshole like me.”

Violet glanced at him again, his easy grin didn’t waver. She following his lead through the hall as they toasted family members. Aside from Marcus, she met Marcus’s father, Richard Ashford, and a young woman who never left Serena’s side. Violet didn’t catch her name, only that she clearly knew the Ashfords well.

Serena, meanwhile, never once came over. She floated among the guests, smiling and chatting with everyone except them—an obvious snub, practically announcing to the room she didn’t approve of the marriage.

When the charade finally ended, Julian took Violet to a penthouse downtown. He told her she could live there for the duration of their marriage, though it was clear he didn’t plan to stay himself—his jacket wasn’t even off before he turned toward the door.

The doorbell rang. Julian gestured for her to head upstairs. She didn’t argue, climbing the steps. A whole day of fake smiles had drained her, and she was desperate to get out of the dress.

On the landing, she heard a woman’s voice—bright, eager—call out Julian’s name.

“Lydia? What are you doing here?” Julian asked.

“Why not? I used to come over all the time,” Lydia chirped as she walked in.

Violet recognized her instantly as the girl who’d been glued to Serena earlier. She didn’t linger to hear more. She pushed open the bedroom door and shut herself inside.

Downstairs, Julian didn’t invite Lydia in, but he didn’t throw her out either. “That was kid stuff. I’m married now—you can’t just waltz in anymore. My wife’ll get jealous. She’s real petty about that.”

Lydia puffed out her cheek, then gave his shoulder a playful smack. “Yeah right, like you’d ever be scared of your wife. C’mon, tell me the truth—she’s got something on you, doesn’t she? That’s why you married her?”

Julian just laughed and shook his head. “Why is everyone so damn convinced I’m being forced?”

Lydia kept speculating, then suddenly her eyes went wide. “Wait… don’t tell me she’s pregnant? I heard whoever pops out a kid first gets—”

“Quit guessing. No. Not it.” He cut her off quick. “If you came here just to talk crap, you can leave.”

“Hmph. Cold as hell. And here I was bringing you a wedding present.” Lydia pulled a bottle of wine out of her bag. “Snatched it from my dad’s cellar.”

“Oh? Then it’s gotta be good. Guess I’ll take it.” Julian spread his hands.

She handed it over but didn’t let go right away. “I bet you haven’t told your buddies you’re married yet, huh? How about we throw a party next week?”

“Sure. What’s a party without me drinking half the booze?” Julian set the bottle on the shelf and walked to the door. “But you really gotta go now. Otherwise Violet’s gonna chew me out.”

He gave her a look—you know what I mean. A flicker of bitterness crossed Lydia’s face. “Fine. Text you the time.”

After she finally left, Julian called one of his men over. “Craig. What’s up?”

“Mrs. Ashford’s people are watching the place. Front and back both covered.”

Julian let out a low laugh. “Looks like someone’s getting desperate.”

Craig hesitated, then asked the question he’d been holding back. “Boss… yesterday you said marrying Miss Violet was the ‘solution.’ Is that really it?”

“Marriage was always part of the deal. That’s the condition my grandfather set.” Julian leaned back. 

50% of Ashford Biotech’s shares were spread out among institutional investors and smaller shareholders. The other 50% sat with the Ashford family—45% in his immediate branch, and the remaining 5% split among distant relatives.

The current chairman was his uncle, Richard Ashford, holding 15%. Before Julian’s father and older brother died, they’d shared another 10%. But when they passed, Julian wasn’t yet eighteen, so he couldn’t inherit. Those shares had been “temporarily” held and managed by Serena ever since.

TWO DAYS AGO, Julian stumbled on something hidden in the family trust—total 20% of company stock. Half can’t be moved. Another half (10%), It wasn’t meant for just “the heir” like everyone assumed. His grandfather had set conditions long ago: whichever grandchild married first and stayed married for a year got 5%. Whoever had the first child got another 5%.

Those greedy bastards had kept it under wraps, hoping Marcus’s wedding in three months would hand the shares neatly into his pocket. 

Too bad Julian dug it up and cut in line with a wedding. Now they were panicking, worried that if he later inherited his father’s shares on top of the trust’s, get him total 15%, he’d actually have enough power to go up against them.

And why Violet? It wasn’t just timing, though she’d shown up owing him money at the perfect moment. She was low-maintenance, quick on the uptake, knew how to play along in public.

No powerful family ties to mess with his plans. She irritated Serena—which he enjoyed—and blocked the “fiancée” his family had lined up as their spy.

Most importantly, Violet was cold in private. She clearly didn’t even like him. Perfect. Julian liked clean deals with no strings attached. Feelings complicated shit. 

Every other girl he’d tried something with eventually wanted more—more attention, more commitment, more control. That always blew things up.

Craig nodded slowly. “So… you still leaving tonight?”

“With them breathing down my neck? Guess not. Looks like I’ll have to actually stay here for a few days, play house.” 

Julian shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. “Pick me up tomorrow morning. I’m heading to the office.”