Chapter 43 - Lucy
Julian leaves for the trip before dawn. I know because I wake to the sound of movement beside me, quiet, careful, like he doesn’t want to wake me, and for a moment, I pretend to be asleep because I don’t know what to say anymore.
The room smells like him, clean and familiar.
I feel the bed shift as he stands.
I hear the rustle of clothes, the muted click of cufflinks, the careful zip of his suitcase.
He pauses, and I can feel it. That hesitation. That weight in the air like something unfinished pressing between us. When I finally open my eyes, he’s standing at the foot of the bed, watching me like he’s memorizing something he might lose.
For one impossible second, I think he’s going to say something, anything.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know how to do this.
Please don’t look at me like that.
Instead, he walks back to me. He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. It's soft, lingering, and that action that once felt so beautiful feels almost cruel now.
I close my eyes as they burn. I want to pull away; I want to scream... but I also don't want to break this bubble.
I keep my eyes closed because if I open them, I will break.
“I’ll be busy,” he says quietly. “It may be hard to stay in touch. Rowan will check in. If you need anything, go through Claire.”
A tear slips free before I can stop it.
I don’t wipe it away.
I don’t nod.
I don’t move.
I feel him there for what feels like eternity, so close I could reach for him, and then I feel the shift in the air, I hear his steps, and the door closes.
I choke back a sob, because that moment felt like a goodbye... And not just for the trip.
Julian has been gone for a week when Claire lets me know the trip has been extended.
Likely another week, she says. She’ll update me when she knows more. Julian is hoping to wrap everything up cleanly.
She asks about my schedule, and that Julian would like her to plan a trip for us when he gets back home.
I almost respond with whatever works, but then I remember how he planned Paris. What our lives looked like for six months. And where we are now. He ignores me and has his EA speak with his wife on his behalf. Having Claire find out my schedule, because he has no clue.
Another message comes in, almost like Claire could tell I was standing on a ledge.
Claire: This is very important to Julian.
I stare at the message for a long time before responding.
Is she kidding? This is important to him... so important that he couldn't be bothered to ask me himself.
Anger quickly replaces the hurt. Because this... this is not what I agreed to.
This life of intermediaries and deflection and being informed instead of asked.
So, I answer calmly. Precisely, exactly like a Contract Wife would....
Me: My schedule is full for the foreseeable future. I know Mr. North’s is as well. Please let him know there’s no need to plan time off. And kindly send me a list of any public appearances I’m required to attend over the next few months so I can manage my calendar in advance, per our agreement.
The word agreement tastes bitter, but if he can use it, so can I.
Claire calls almost immediately.
“Lucy,” she says carefully. “I think you should reconsider. Julian really wants this vacation with you.”
I let out a breath that feels more like a laugh without humour. “Well, I really want a lot of things too. But if life has taught me anything is that you can't always get what you want.”
Silence.
“He can’t pick and choose when he wants to be my husband,” I add quietly.
Claire hesitates. “Please… think about the line you’re drawing.”
I close my eyes. “He’s the one who got us here, Claire. He decided to remind me of what we are. I am just following the rules he wrote.”
Julian calls that night. When I saw his name on my phone, my heart stuttered. I thought maybe he gets it now, maybe he sees what he's been doing. Maybe he is calling to apologize.
But his voice is tired, flat. Not warm or apologetic.
He starts speaking like he’s correcting me, as if I’ve inconvenienced him, and something inside me curls inward.
Before I can respond, I hear a woman’s voice in the background, and he cuts me off mid-sentence.
“I have to go,” he says sharply. “This conversation isn’t over.”
The line goes dead.
The next morning, Claire tells me he may be gone for another week, and the flicker of hope I had been holding onto begins to die out.
My mother isn’t doing well. Not dramatically. Just… slipping awa slowly. Flaring. Reacting badly to medication. The doctors keep saying be patient, like patience is something I haven’t already spent years perfecting.
I leave the facility shaking with anger and grief knotted together.
At work, Graham notices immediately. He pulls me into his office and asks me what is wrong.
I tell him about my mom. Only my mom.
He asks if I reviewed the folder he gave me, and I tell him no, but I will if he thinks it will help. I have kept my distance from Graham, ensuring it could never be perceived as anything other than professional. I didn't want to upset Julian with my working relationship.
On the way home, I decide I will review the information he had collected for me and bring it to Dr. Teller and his team.
When I walk into the penthouse, I sense I am not alone, and my heart perks up stupidly, Julian? before logic catches up with hope. Claire didn’t say he’d be back.
Maybe Rowan. He has been checking on me periodically, I am sure, more to reassure Julian that I was following the rules and sleeping in our bed every night than any concern for my well-being.
I walk through the rooms slowly, my heels clicking loudly in the silence.
And then I see him.
Richard North is sitting behind Julian’s desk, as if he owns it. A black folder is open in front of him. He looks up and smiles. It's smug and satisfied.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Just collecting a few things for my son,” he says easily.
My skin crawls.
“You know,” he continues, standing, “I told him you weren’t the right choice.”
Choice.
The word feels wrong coming from him.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
He laughs. “You didn’t think you were the only option, did you?”
He stands and gestures to the desk. I move on autopilot and sit without meaning to.
A thick black folder is opened before me with a stack of Profiles that come into view.
Women catalogued like assets. Faces. Ages. Fertility statistics. Notes on compliance. Agreeable. Pliable.
I recognize them from events and galas. From...
And then I see it: I move the profiles aside and see her.
The black-haired woman. The one Julian danced with. The one in his office. The one he was too busy to text me. The one who left his office, smirking.
My vision blurs.
Richard tosses another folder in front of me, with my name on it.
My stomach turns as I open it with shaky hands. Details I never shared with Julian. Medical history, details on my family and a list of my vulnerabilities.
I knew Rowan had investigated me.
I knew Julian knew things.
But this... this feels oily. Violating.
I feel sick.
“It was never personal,” Richard says calmly. “Just strategic. Even if he did choose wrong. I will give it to you. He got distracted for a time, but you have become too much, Lucy. Too much baggage, too many needs. He doesn't have time for a wife like you."
He steps even closer to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I immediately shrug it off and stand putting space between us, but he isn't done.
"At least he’s come to his senses before it was too late.”
He drops photos onto the desk.
Julian and her.
Too close. Too familiar. They aren't kissing or having sex, nothing erotic, but they do look intimate, moments with just the two of them sitting too close, Julian looking rumpled with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, looking like someone was running their hands through his hair.
Simone dressed far too revealingly for work.
The pictures don't show him cheating explicitly, but there are so many. Taken over days... weeks. They are exposing in ways that don’t need to be explicit to devastate.
“Get out,” I whisper.
He scoffs. "I don't think..."
“I said get out!” I scream.
My voice breaks the room.
Richard leaves just as Rowan rushes in. “Lucy...”
I don’t answer.
I look once more at the wreckage on the desk. The profiled women who were catalogued for Julian's selection. The pictures of my husband, who was too busy to even send me a text message but has been happily spending his time with another woman.
Rowan takes a few steps closer, "Lucy, what happened? Are you ok?"
I wipe tears away that I hadn't realized had fallen and walk out of the office without responding to him.
I walk into my office and collect the folder Graham gave me. My mother’s records. My passport and essentials documents.
I walk out of my office and hear Rowan calling my name from Julian's office. I hear his footsteps behind me, but I know he will not follow me into my bedroom.
I move quickly, pack a bag, and walk out.
Rowan calls my name again.
I don’t stop.
I don’t look back.
I’m done.