After the Affair: Falling into a Billionaire's Arms Chapter 38

Her voice was tentative—she knew she was asking for the impossible. As a former executive herself, she'd dismiss any employee who behaved this way as unreliable.

The line went silent for several seconds.

Julian didn't answer her question.

Instead, after a brief pause, he recited a string of numbers. "Did you catch that?"

"Yes, I did."

"Repeat it back to me."

She recited the digits flawlessly, her tone uncharacteristically docile. "That sounds like a phone number. Do you have instructions for me?"

"It's my personal number," Julian explained. "Remember this: important matters require a phone call. Text messages don't count."

Was he implying he would ignore the resignation message as if it never existed?

Louisa's voice brightened with understanding. "Yes, Mr. Tudor."

From the other end came a soft, rumbling chuckle—low and magnetic, carrying an inexplicable tenderness.

Was she imagining it?

She didn't dwell on the thought, but her mood had undeniably improved. The weight that had pressed against her chest for weeks seemed lighter somehow.

The next morning when George arrived, she greeted him with rare civility.

George hesitated, surprised. Had her anger evaporated overnight?

He'd known all along her irritation was just a temporary reaction to Vivian's presence. She'd get over it soon enough.

Acting as if nothing had happened, he placed breakfast on the table. "Darling, I brought your favorite smoked meat sandwiches."

Louisa ate in silence.

Shortly after, Jared arrived with several home décor magazines.

George handed them to her. "Take a look and tell me which style you prefer. I'll have your room completely renovated... Of course, you could always move back to the master bedroom with me—"

"Don't bother," Louisa cut him off coolly. "Do whatever you want."

She had no intention of returning to that house anyway.

Only ten days remained until their marriage ended.

She planned to stay in the hospital until then. After that, she could finally tell him to get lost—permanently.

George, oblivious to her thoughts, frowned. "You're still upset?"

Louisa didn't respond.

"We've finalized our partnership with the Price Group," he continued. "Construction will begin soon. Once everything stabilizes, I'll take you on a vacation..."

Louisa smirked inwardly. Did he really believe she would pretend nothing had happened and continue their sham of a marriage?

Frustrated by her continued silence, George's patience began to wear thin.

Still, he controlled himself, taking her hand in his.

Louisa tried to pull away, but lacked the strength to break his grip.

Mistaking her resistance for token protest, he grew bolder, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, "we've argued too much lately. Let's stop fighting, hmm? I'll take you traveling—you can stay as long as you want, rest and recover properly.

"And when we return, we can start thinking about having a child.

"I promise, no one will ever threaten your position as Mrs. Capulet. How does that sound?"

He continued mapping out their future, oblivious to her reaction.

Louisa nearly laughed aloud. What fantasy world was he living in?

A child? Really?

In the twenty days since discovering his affair, she'd repeatedly brushed against death. And now he wanted her to bear his child?

So he could continue his philandering while she remained trapped in his gilded cage, her heart in tatters, bound by maternal obligation?

When had George become so selfish and delusional?

The breakfast she'd just eaten churned in her stomach. Unable to stomach more of his hypocrisy, she cut him off coldly, "I'm tired. I need to rest. Please go."

George bristled. He'd been patient, conciliatory, even tender—and still she refused to meet him halfway.

His patience snapped. "Louisa, can't you stop this childish behavior?"

"Your Vivi doesn't complain," she replied with glacial calm. "Perhaps you should visit her instead."

Her words caught in his throat like fishbones. He kicked the bedside table in frustration. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave." Her answer came without hesitation.

George glared at her back, his irritation mounting by the second.

Just then, his phone chimed.

It was a message from Vivian: [George, what's keeping you so busy? I haven't seen you in 24 hours, and you haven't called. Aren't you curious what I've been up to?] Accompanied by a cute emoji.

Too annoyed to engage fully, he replied curtly: [What have you been up to?]

Vivian: [Thinking of you! Missing you at meals, while falling asleep, during my shows—my mind is filled with thoughts of you. Have you been thinking of me too?]

She certainly knew how to entice a man.

George's mood lightened, but before he could respond, another message arrived: [All I want is to see you. George, where are you? Let me come to you, please?]

George hesitated. [Not now.]

Vivian: [Why wait? I miss you! I want to hold you, kiss you, love you...]

George: [Enough. Stop talking like that.]

Vivian obediently fell silent, sending only a sad-faced emoji.

George had intended to reconcile with Louisa, but glancing at her rigid back—still turned away from him, refusing conversation—his patience finally evaporated.

He pocketed his phone and stood. "Something's come up at the office. I need to go. Rest well, and call if you need anything."

Louisa acknowledged him with a noncommittal sound.

Peace at last.

George, unsettled by her indifference, added as he left, "I'll come back tonight with dinner."

"Don't trouble yourself," she replied. "Focus on your work."