His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 210: Public Scene

Julian took his time in the shower, letting the hot water run over him until the last traces of fever and fatigue dulled into something manageable. By the time he stepped out, nearly half an hour had passed. He was already dressed in a crisp white shirt and tailored brown slacks, fastening his watch as he walked out of the bedroom, his movements steady, controlled, like the weakness from the night before had been carefully tucked away.

Owen had set breakfast on the table, a simple spread with a sandwich and a bowl of oatmeal. "You should eat first," he said, stepping aside. "Then take your medication."

Julian gave a slight nod and sat down, pulling up his work email on his phone out of habit. He reached for the sandwich, but his attention stalled midway, his gaze settling on the bowl beside it.

He paused.

Then looked up.

"Did you make this?"

Owen shook his head. "No. That should be from Ms. Whitlow. It hadn't gone bad, so I reheated it."

Julian's fingers loosened around the sandwich. He set it down without taking a bite, picked up the spoon instead, and stirred the oatmeal slowly, his expression dimming just a fraction.

Owen opened the folder in his hands, shifting back into work mode. "About Arthur, I looked into everything you asked. There's nothing on the professional side. No complaints, no under-the-table payments, no malpractice records. He's clean."

Julian took a slow spoonful, his gaze cooling as he listened. "What about his academic record?"

Owen hesitated briefly before answering. "Before he went overseas, more than half of his published papers were actually written by Ms. Whitlow. But there's no hard evidence yet."

Julian gave a quiet acknowledgment, his tone flat. "Keep digging."

"Yes, sir."

Owen flipped to the next page. "I also finished the background check on Brandon Whitmore."

Julian's hand stilled for just a moment before he set the spoon down and looked up.

"Thirty years old, single. Only son of the chairman of Aurelium Group. He's an OB-GYN, Stanford University graduate, two years ahead of you. No prior connection with Ms. Whitlow."

Julian reached for a napkin, wiping his mouth as if the information hadn't affected him at all. "Caleb?"

"He hasn't contacted Ms. Whitlow again," Owen said, then paused slightly. "But... Arthur has been pursuing her. He's been sending flowers every day for the past month."

A quiet scoff left Julian as he tossed the napkin aside. He picked up the water glass, swallowed his medication, and took a measured sip before speaking.

"Iris wouldn't go for him."

His voice carried quiet certainty, not arrogance, but conviction built on knowing her.

Of all people, not him.

He knew exactly what Arthur had done back then, how he had manipulated things, ruined Iris's reputation, and twisted the truth into something that broke them apart. That alone was enough to end it. There was no coming back from that, not for someone like Iris.

The only reason she hadn't already destroyed him was Zoe.

She had held back for the sake of that friendship.

Owen closed the folder, his expression tightening slightly before he added, "There's one more thing. Your father wants you home for dinner tomorrow."

"Decline it."

Julian set the glass down with a muted thud and stood, already turning toward the bedroom.

"Yes, sir."

Over the next few days, Iris's phone didn't stop ringing.

Grace called relentlessly, one call after another, as if sheer persistence would force a response.

At first, Iris picked up a few.

Eventually, she stopped.

When she turned her phone back on, there were dozens of missed calls waiting every single time.

That afternoon, after finishing lunch, she was heading back into the research institute when she heard it.

Her mother's voice.

Loud enough to carry across the entire lobby.

"I'm Iris's mother. Get someone in charge out here right now. I want every dollar of my daughter's two hundred million investment returned. We're pulling out."

The space had gone still.

"You call this a research institute?" Grace's voice rose, sharp and relentless. "This is a scam. You think you can just take people's money like this?"

Staff members tried to calm her down, speaking carefully, but she brushed them off without listening. Security stood nearby, unsure how to intervene, while others gathered at a distance, whispering, watching the scene unfold.

"Iris! Where is she?" Grace continued, her voice cutting through the room. "Tell her to come out here. Two hundred million dollars, and she just hands it over like that? Has she lost her mind?"

Iris stood off to the side, partially hidden from view, her expression tightening.

I can't go over there. Not like this.

Not when Grace was this out of control.

Not when she couldn't predict what might happen next.

She took a step back and pulled out her phone, dialing Ethan.

"Ethan, Mom's at my workplace causing a scene," she said quietly. "Can you come get her? I'll send you the location."

"I'm on my way," he said immediately.

Half an hour later, Ethan rushed into the building, signing in quickly before heading straight toward Grace. He grabbed her arm, his voice strained. "Mom, what are you doing? Come on, let's go home."

Grace shook him off with force, her voice rising even higher. "I'm not leaving until I see Iris or whoever's in charge. They think they can take that kind of money from her? Not happening."

"Mom, you're not making sense," Ethan snapped, frustration breaking through. "Just come with me."

"The one who's lost her mind is your sister," Grace shot back. "Who gives two hundred million to a place like this?"

The murmurs around them grew louder, the attention sharper, the entire lobby now fully absorbed in the scene.

Iris watched from a distance, then quietly dialed 911.

By the time the police arrived, she stepped forward, staying close to them, keeping just enough distance to feel safe.

"Iris!"

Grace spotted her immediately, anger reigniting as she moved toward her.

Iris instinctively stepped back, positioning herself behind one of the officers.

"Ma'am, that's enough," the officer said firmly, placing a hand on Grace's shoulder to stop her. "If you continue, we'll have to escort you out."

The shift was immediate.

Grace's anger collapsed into tears as she turned to the officer, her voice breaking, her expression suddenly full of helpless concern.

"Officer, my daughter's been taken advantage of," she said, her tone pleading now. "She invested all her money into this place, and I'm just trying to help her get it back. I'm her mother. I can't just stand by and do nothing."