Chapter 2

Julian stood up almost by reflex, his long legs carrying him toward the staircase as he answered warmly.

"Yes, I'll bring something up right now."

At that exact moment, Maria walked out of the kitchen carrying a silver tray with a porcelain bowl of freshly stewed soup. Julian took the tray from her hands and turned toward the stairs where Christa waited. Maria's face paled, and she hurried a step forward.

"Sir... that's the last portion of soup in the house. I made it specially for Madam. She hasn't eaten all day, and her stomach ulcer is acting up."

Julian paused for a fraction of a second. Upstairs, Christa instantly put on a look of panicked guilt, biting her lower lip.

"Oh... since it's for Miss Morrow, Julian, please give it to her. Cody and I are fine."

Julian waved his hand dismissively, his voice devoid of warmth.

"She's a grown adult. Missing one bite won't hurt her. Cody is still a child—he needs to eat first."

Inside the guest room, Cody let out a spoiled whine. Christa tucked a curl behind her ear and smiled gratefully.

"Well, if you insist, I won't be polite then, Julian."

Julian handed the tray to Christa and called down the stairs to Maria.

"Go back to the kitchen and make some other soup for Madam."

Standing in the shadows at the foot of the stairs, Allie watched the entire exchange. Strangely, the violent cramping in her stomach settled into a dead calm. She didn't say a word or fight for the bowl. She simply walked up the stairs, passed the guest room without a glance, entered the master suite at the end of the hall, and locked the heavy oak door behind her.

In the walk-in closet, the vanity mirror reflected her pale, exhausted face and the single small dimple on her left cheek. Her phone buzzed on the marble counter. It was an encrypted video call from her best friend, Claire Sullivan, a top investment bank partner and Seattle socialite currently wrapping an M&A roadshow in San Francisco. As soon as Allie answered, Claire exploded through the screen.

"That bastard Julian actually ditched you at the altar for his buddy's widow? What an absolute piece of trash! I'm having my team prep the firm's private jet right now. I'll take off at dawn and land at Boeing Field before breakfast!"

Allie took a slow breath.

"I'm fine, Claire. Finish signing your merger deal first. You can buy me dinner when you get back."

Claire bit her red lip, lowering her voice in fury.

"Allie, do you know what those trust-fund brats in Seattle are saying behind your back? They're saying you're just a stand-in for Christa! That Julian only married you because of the dimple on your left cheek when you smile! Otherwise, a girl from an ordinary family like yours would never have stepped foot inside the Montgomery estate!"

Allie lowered her lashes, her voice dead calm.

"I know."

A stand-in? Everyone thought Julian was using her as a substitute. Nobody knew that the only reason she had ever looked twice at Julian was because his long, cold eyes looked remarkably like a boy buried deep in her teenage memories. In this marriage that everyone called a desperate climb on her part, she had also been using his eyes to mourn a past she couldn't reach.

"If you know, why haven't you divorced his ass yet?" Claire shouted through the speaker.

"I will," Allie said, her voice chillingly clear. "But Julian is a control freak. He'll never sign the papers willingly. I have to find another way."

After hanging up, the night dragged on. It was two in the morning when the master bedroom door was unlocked with a spare key and Julian finally came in. Half-awake, Allie felt the mattress dip behind her, and every nerve in her body tensed. Turning her head slightly in the cold moonlight, she saw Julian lying an arm's length away with his back turned to her.

Hot tears finally slipped from the corners of her eyes, soaking into the pillowcase. Outsiders thought their delayed wedding was a romantic gesture after three years of marriage. Only Allie knew that in those three years, they had never even consummated their marriage.

Three years ago, at a high school reunion organized by Scott Thompson, classmates had teased Allie about having a crush on Julian. That night, a front-desk mix-up put them in the same hotel suite. Nothing happened—they woke up fully clothed. Yet her greedy stepmother, Sharon Tucker, found out and caused a massive scene at the Montgomery ancestral manor, demanding six million dollars in bride price compensation. Julian had stepped up, married her behind his parents' backs to protect her dignity, and moved her into Cove Estate. For three years, he gave her family expensive gifts and handled their messes, yet he never touched her. Six months ago, he had held her in the study and suggested having a baby, making her believe his heart had finally warmed—until Liam died the very next day.

As the tear tracks dried tight against her skin, Allie opened her eyes in the dark. This empty charity of a marriage was ending by her own hand.