Chapter 6

The rain in Manhattan was unforgiving, a cold, gray sheet that matched the leaden weight in Julian’s chest. He sat in the back of his Rolls Royce, staring at the glowing entrance of Clara’s penthouse—the same building he had kicked her out of only weeks ago.

Irony was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Sir," Marcus said from the driver's seat, his voice cautious. "It’s 2:00 AM. She isn't going to see you. Security has blocked your name from the intercom, and your calls go straight to a V-Tech automated system."

"I don't care," Julian said, his eyes fixed on the lobby. "I’ll wait."

He looked down at the sonogram in his hand. It was becoming wrinkled and worn from how often he touched it. He had spent the last forty-eight hours dismantling Sarah’s life—cutting off her bank accounts, evicted her from the guest house, and ensuring no clinic in the state would hire her after her fraud was exposed.

It didn't make him feel better. Destroying Sarah was easy. Rebuilding his bridge to Clara felt impossible.

Suddenly, a sleek black SUV pulled up. The lobby doors opened, and Clara stepped out. She was dressed in a casual cashmere coat, her face tired but radiant. Logan was right beside her, holding a large umbrella over her head with one hand and a bag of takeout in the other.

They were laughing.

Julian felt a hot spike of jealousy that almost choked him. That was his wife. That was the woman who used to wait for him.

He threw the car door open and stepped out into the rain.

"Clara!"

The laughter stopped. Logan immediately stepped in front of Clara, his hand moving toward the inside of his jacket—a silent, lethal warning.

Clara sighed, the sound carried by the wind. She placed a hand on Logan’s arm, signaling him to stand down. "It’s alright, Logan. It’s just a ghost from the past."

Julian flinched at the word. He walked until he was ten feet away, drenched to the bone, his expensive suit ruined.

"I fired her," Julian said, his voice cracking. "I kicked Sarah out. I’ve started a foundation in your name for mothers in need. I’ve—"

"Do you want a medal, Julian?" Clara interrupted. Her voice wasn't angry anymore; it was worse. It was indifferent. "You did what any decent human being would have done three years ago if they weren't blinded by their own ego."

"I know I failed you," Julian stepped closer, his hands shaking. "But the baby... I went to the doctor's office. I know you have an appointment tomorrow morning for the twelve-week scan. Please. Let me go with you. I want to see our child."

Logan stepped forward, his eyes cold. "Mr. Thorne, I think it’s time you—"

"Logan, wait," Clara said. She looked at Julian, her gaze moving from his wet hair down to the crumpled sonogram in his hand. For a split second, Julian saw a flash of the old Clara—the one who couldn't stand to see a stray dog in the rain.

"You want to see the scan?" she asked.

"More than anything," Julian whispered.

"Fine," Clara said. Julian’s heart leaped. But her next words crashed into him like a tidal wave. "You can come. But you won't be coming as my husband. You'll be coming as a 'Third Party Observer.' You will sit in the waiting room. You will not touch me. And you will not speak unless I ask you a question. Do you understand?"

It was a humiliation. He was being treated like a stranger to his own family.

"I understand," Julian said, bowing his head.

"8:00 AM. Don't be late. I don't wait for anyone anymore," Clara said. She turned and walked back into the building.

Logan paused at the door, looking back at Julian. "A word of advice, Thorne," the taller man said, his voice low so Clara couldn't hear. "She’s letting you come because she’s a good person. But don't mistake her mercy for an invitation. I’m the one who holds her hand when she’s nauseous in the morning. I’m the one she calls when she can't sleep. You’re just the donor."

The doors slid shut.

Julian stood in the rain, the cold finally reaching his bones. He was a billionaire, a man who could buy cities, but he realized Logan was right. He had the money, but Logan had the moments.

He got back into his car, his mind racing. He had six hours until the appointment. He had to do something. He couldn't just show up empty-handed. He needed to prove he was changing.

"Marcus," Julian said, his voice hardening with a new resolve. "Find out who the best pediatric specialists in the world are. Buy the clinic if you have to. And get me a list of every organic grocery store in a fifty-mile radius."

He looked at the penthouse one last time.

The grovel had only just begun. And if he had to spend the rest of his life in the rain just for a glimpse of her smile, he would do it.