My Accidental Billionaire Husband Chapter 347

Chapter 347

[ 1,019 words ]

Katia

The door opened. Maria stood there. Her eyes went wide when she saw me and the suitcase.

“Ms. Kensington she whispered, voice tight.

I didn’t wait. I pushed past her into the foyer, suitcase wheels dragging behind me. Delia’s floral perfume was everywhere. It made me want to gag. Then I smelled coffee. Good. They were home.

I followed the light into the dining room.

The scene was pathetic. Julian sat at the far end near the sideboard in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, hair messy, holding a mug of coffee. He looked exhausted. Delia sat at a small table on the other side of the room, eating alone.

The second my heels hit the threshold, Julian’s head snapped up. His eyes locked on me.

Delia froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes dropped to the suitcase, then back to my face. She slammed the fork down so hard the plate rattled.

“Katia, what the hell are you doing in my house?” she snapped, standing up fast. Her face went red and blotchy. “You can’t just show up here with a suitcase like you own the place. Who the fuck do you think you are p>

I stopped in the middle of the room, fingers tight around the suitcase handle. I tilted my head.

“I am whoever the fuck I think I am. ” I said, smiling. “Your house?” I asked, voice low.

“Yes, this is mine and my husband’s mansion,” she said, chin high. “So get the fuck out before I call security myself p>

I laughed. It came out sharp. “Oh, bitch, please. I don’t have your time. Get the fuck out of my house, Delia p>

Delia let out a hysterical laugh. “Your house? Are you serious right now? You’re so fucking delusional. This is my house. Take your suitcase and your sorry ass and get the fuck out p>

I rolled my eyes. Why would I even waste my time on this useless sister of mine who will do anything to be Mrs. Windsor? I didn’t even look at her. I turned to Julian. He was standing now, mug forgotten, eyes glued to me.

“And you,” I said, voice cutting. “I want you out of my house tonight too. Or do you want to play dumb like your fake little wife over there p>

Julian took a step toward me. “I’ve been calling you all day, Katia. You didn’t answer once p>

“Why should I? I saw the calls actually,” I shot back. “But right now I need you to get the fuck out. Unless you want me to be the one who leaves?” I asked, arching a brow, and then raised my hand and slowly rubbed my stomach in a slow circle. I made sure he saw it. Because I knew he knew I was pregnant but chose to play dump just like he knew he was my fucking husband.

Julian froze. His eyes dropped to my hand, then back to my face.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave p>

I let out a shaky breath. Delia’s face went pale.

“And you,” I said, turning back to her. “Since your husband is leaving, you should go too. Don’t you think p>

Delia gripped the edge of the table, fingers shaking. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my house. I’ve lived here for years. You think you can just walk in and kick me out like some maid p>

I didn’t raise my voice. “I just did. Get out p>

Delia’s voice went high and shrill. “You’re crazy. Julian, are you really going to let this bitch talk to me like this? Tell her this is our house! Tell her she has no right p>

Julian rubbed his face but said nothing.

I looked at Delia. “You really think this is your house? You’ve been playing wife for how long now? Sleeping in my bed, using my things, acting like you belong here. It’s pathetic p>

Delia’s eyes filled with angry tears. “You don’t know anything about our relationship. Julian loves me. He’s always loved me. You fucked another man and married a stranger and left him; I took him. He is mine p>

“He is yours?” I asked, my voice flat. “You have been living in a lie you built from borrowed pieces, Delia p>

I walked forward until I stood inches from her. She smelled of panic and expensive perfume. Julian stood still, his gaze fixed on my hand. He looked like a man watching a bomb countdown he had set himself.

“Get out, Delia,” I said. “Before I stop being polite about who owns the roof over your head p>

“You are nothing,” she hissed, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “Julian, make her stop. Tell her this is our home p>

Julian finally moved. He did not look at Delia. He walked toward the foyer. Delia looked at his back, her face turning gray. She realized, in that moment, she was alone. The man she claimed to love was leaving her behind without a second thought.

“He is not yours,” I said to her. “He is just a man who forgot his place. And you are just a guest who overstayed her welcome p>

Delia lunged at me, but I did not back away. I simply watched her with ice in my veins. She pulled back, her chest heaving. She looked at the hallway where Julian had disappeared, then at the guards who were now standing just inside the dining room. They were waiting for my next word. They were loyal to the name on the deed, and that name was mine and Julians.

“You have ten minutes,” I told her, my eyes never leaving hers. “Take whatever you brought with you. Do not touch anything that does not have your name on it. If you try to take one piece of jewelry or one heirloom, I will have the police escort you to the station myself p>

She tried to laugh, but it died in her throat. She looked at the guards, then back at me, her eyes wet with rage.

“Security,” I called. “Drag this woman out of my house now p>

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