Chapter 175
[ 489 words ]
Chapter 175:
The concern in his eyes slowly vanished. It was replaced by a sudden, intense brightness.
The tight line of his mouth relaxed. The corners of his lips curved upward into a soft, incredibly genuine smile.
“She did that?” Julian asked, his voice dropping into a quiet, reverent whisper.
Brenna blinked, completely thrown off by his reaction. “Yes. She ruined her clothes and left me standing in the rain.”
Julian looked down at the table, shaking his head slightly. “In a city like Washington, where everyone is obsessed with status and climbing the ladder… finding someone who would throw away their weekend and ruin their clothes to save a dying animal in an alley…”
𝘛𝗁𝗲 𝘣𝗲ѕ𝗍 𝗋𝗲𝘷i𝗲𝘸ѕ 𝘰𝗇 𝗴𝖺𝘭𝗇𝘰𝘃е𝗹𝗌.сo𝘮
He looked back up at Brenna. His eyes were completely captivated. “That is incredibly rare. She is amazing.”
Brenna’s mouth fell open. A hot, ugly spike of pure jealousy stabbed her in the stomach. She had tried to make Caroline look unhinged, and instead she had just made Julian fall deeper in love with her.
Back in the penthouse, Caroline sat cross-legged on the cold bathroom floor. She watched the dog’s chest rise and fall in a deep, medicated sleep.
Her phone, resting on the edge of the marble sink, suddenly vibrated. The screen lit up the dim room.
Caroline reached up and grabbed it. It was a long text message from Julian.
Brenna told me what happened. I am not mad about the coffee. Actually, I am in awe of you. If you need any help contacting shelters, or if you need me to drive you to a pet supply store this weekend, please let me know. You did a beautiful thing today.
Caroline stared at the glowing screen. Her fingers tightened around the metal casing of the phone until her knuckles turned white.
A heavy, suffocating wave of guilt crashed over her.
Julian was a good man. He was normal. He was kind. And the more he acted like a perfect gentleman, the more she felt like a monster for deceiving him. She was a married woman, legally bound to a ruthless military commander, trapped in a web of assassins and government secrets.
She typed a quick, sterile reply.
Thank you, Julian. The dog is stable. I appreciate the offer.
She hit send. She immediately locked the screen and tossed the phone back onto the counter. She pulled her knees to her chest, forcing herself to sever the fantasy of a normal life before it got someone killed.
The scene shifted to the wealthy enclave of Potomac, Maryland.
A massive, French-chateau-style estate sat on five acres of perfectly manicured lawns overlooking the river. Inside the grand, octagonal sunroom on the first floor, a violent storm was raging.
Beatrice Hendon, a twenty-two-year-old Washington socialite, stood in the center of the room. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.
She grabbed a priceless, hand-painted Sèvres porcelain vase off a side table. She raised it above her head and hurled it violently at the marble floor.
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