CHAPTER 3: The Meeting That Changed Everything

EMELY

I didn’t really sleep that night. It felt more like closing my eyes while waiting for morning to come. When the alarm finally rang, my head was heavy, but my body moved on autopilot, shower, light makeup, hair pinned neatly.

I opened my laptop to check my emails, not expecting anything.

A few seconds later — one new message.

New email — from the candidate’s agency.

My heart skipped faster than I wanted it to, though I forced myself to stay calm before opening it.

“The candidate has reviewed your request and is willing to meet.”

I blinked. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d receive a reply this quickly.

Another message followed:

“The meeting will be with you only. Without the husband present.”

That was unusual — normally both partners were involved in this kind of process. But I chose not to overthink it.

One more message arrived:

“Location: Private restaurant, Château Rouge, 6:00 PM. If you are unable to come, the candidate will consider the process canceled.”

Château Rouge… definitely not a casual place. It was known among wealthy business circles for private and exclusive meetings.

This candidate was clearly not an ordinary person.

A final note appeared:

“The candidate accepted this meeting because she believes you are not a difficult client. That is rare. We strongly recommend you attend.”

A faint tug pressed in my chest — not pride, not joy. Something closer to caution.

I typed a short reply:

“I will come.”

The confirmation arrived within seconds:

“Thank you. The candidate will be waiting.”

I set the phone down.

Just like that, something that had been only theory turned into reality. Not just a desperate attempt to save a marriage — but a process that was actually, truly beginning.

I caught my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes were still a little swollen, but not as bad as yesterday. My expression was composed, quiet. There was exhaustion, yes… but there was something else now too.

Resolve.

If the Winchesters were waiting for me to break,

they would have to wait a lot longer.

I checked the time. 11 a.m.

Château Rouge occupied the top floor of an office tower. Even from the entrance, it was clear: they didn’t welcome just anyone. The receptionist recognized the reservation the moment I said my name and led me to a private room inside.

The room was quiet. No loud music, no clinking glasses. Just a round table with two chairs, a warm light overhead, and a large window overlooking the city at night.

And she was already there.

The woman.

The face I had seen only through a laptop screen now looked impossibly real. Brown hair swept neatly back, steady eyes, posture straight. She wasn’t trying to look beautiful, she simply was. In her own undisguised way.

A woman who knew her worth.

When I approached, she stood. Polite, but not exaggerated.

“Emely?” Her voice was low and clear.

I nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”

We sat. No unnecessary small talk. She spoke first.

“I’ve reviewed all the conditions you submitted. Including the two primary points: you are the one who chooses the candidate, and the pregnancy must be through IVF.”

Her tone was neutral — not judgmental, not confused, simply confirming.

“That’s correct,” I replied.

Lorian — though I hadn’t said her name yet — gave a small nod.

“I also have boundaries,” she said. “I am not interested in emotional involvement. This is strictly professional. I will undergo the medical process, carry the pregnancy, deliver the baby, and afterward there will be no further engagement.”

I listened carefully. Her intention was clear: no drama.

“If at any point the family attempts to bring me back or involve me as part of their lives, the answer will still be no,” she continued. “I am not the kind of woman who enters another person’s home.”

My shoulders loosened slightly. At least on paper, she wasn’t the type to steal someone’s husband.

I asked quietly, “Is there any special compensation you require?”

“Nothing excessive. Just what is outlined in the standard contract,” she answered. “I chose you not because of money. I chose you because you don’t seem like someone who will make this complicated.”

I gave one firm nod. “I will respect your boundaries.”

Her eyes studied me — not belittling, not suspicious — simply making sure I meant it.

“Good,” she said. “Then I agree.”

No applause, no bright smile. Just words that sounded simple yet changed everything.

After a few seconds of silence, I added, “Now that we’ve agreed… we need to meet with my husband.”

She considered that for a moment. “As soon as possible. The sooner the better.”

I swallowed. “He’s still at the office. This restaurant is close to his workplace.”

“Then call him now.”

Her tone was calm but firm. No room for delay.

I opened my phone. My fingers hesitated for a few seconds before pressing the name I still carried as my husband.

“I’m near your office. Château Rouge. Can you come?” My voice came out steady.

A brief pause before his reply:

“Wait there. I’m coming.”

I exhaled slowly. “He’ll be here soon.”

I glanced at the woman across the table. She simply nodded — not anxious, not nervous. So different from me, as I tried to keep my breathing under control.

A few minutes passed before the door finally opened.

Alexander stepped inside, still in his suit. Confident posture, firm stride, sharp gaze — until he saw the woman sitting across from me.

Something shifted in his expression. For the first time that day,

he lost composure.

“Lorian? Is that really you?”

Lorian froze for a split second, then rose slowly. “Alexander?”

I went still. So they… knew each other?

Alexander walked closer, took her hand, and smiled — not the cold smile he usually gave me, but a warm one. It looked… strange on him.

“It’s been so long,” he said softly.

A faint blush colored Lorian’s cheeks, though her expression stayed composed. “Yes. It’s been years.”

I looked at them both, waiting for an explanation that never came. Until I finally spoke.

“Hold on. So you two… already know each other?”

Neither of them answered right away. Instead, Alexander and Lorian exchanged a look and laughed lightly.

“Emely, believe it or not, we used to attend the same university,” Lorian finally replied, casual as if it were nothing. “And… we were quite close.”

“Quite close, huh?” Alexander echoed with a knowing smile. “Yeah, I’d say that’s accurate.”

Close? God. The words detonated in my head.

Wait — could they have been… more than friends?

Before I could say anything else, a waiter arrived with menus, forcing me to swallow the questions burning in my throat.

“Please take our order,” I said quickly. The waiter nodded. “One Americano, one vanilla milk, and… what would you like, Lorian?”

Lorian opened her mouth, but Alexander cut in first.

“Strawberry milkshake. She likes that.”

Once the waiter left, Lorian let out a soft laugh as she looked at Alexander with disbelief.

“Oh my God, Alex. You still remember everything,” she said. “I’m flattered.”

Alexander laughed — genuinely. Meanwhile, something inside my chest twisted sharply. I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I asked the question that had been gnawing at me:

“So… if I may ask… what exactly was the nature of your relationship back in college?”