Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 112

Julian: POV

The words hit me like a fucking freight train.

"You're right, Mom. Ethan and I should share a room. We're together, after all."

I watched Elena's lips form those words. Watched her force that smile onto her face. Watched her lie through her teeth while standing three feet away from me.

*Together.*

The word echoed in my skull like a death knell.

My chest went cold. Not the kind of cold you feel when you step outside in winter—the kind that starts in your bones and spreads outward until your entire body goes numb. Ice water in my veins. Concrete in my lungs.

They were going to share a room.

*Share a fucking room.*

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The lobby spun around me—the warm lighting, the cozy furniture, the perky blonde receptionist who was already typing their information into the system. Everything blurred except Elena's face.

She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the receptionist, at her mother, at Ethan—anywhere but at me.

And Ethan. That son of a bitch had his arm around her waist like he owned her.

*Like she was his.*

The rage came fast and vicious, flooding through the numbness. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I wanted to rip his fucking arm off. I wanted to drag Elena away from him, lock her somewhere safe, make her understand that she was *mine*—

*She hates you. She thinks you killed your own child. She wants nothing to do with you.*

But the thought of her in a hotel room with him—in a bed with him—

I couldn't. I couldn't fucking stand it.

**"Have they already...?"**

The question whispered through my mind like poison. Had she already slept with him? Was that why she looked so comfortable in his arms? Was that why Josephine was so quick to defend him, to call him "a good man"?

*Less than a month. It's been less than a month since the divorce.*

But maybe it had started before that. Maybe while I was busy taking care of Victoria, Elena had been—

*No.*

I shook my head, trying to clear the images. Elena wouldn't. She wasn't like that. She'd loved me for sixteen fucking years. She wouldn't just—

Except I'd given her every reason to stop loving me.

The receptionist handed over two key cards with a bright smile. "Room 304 for Ms. Vance and Mr. Blackwell. Room 306 for Mrs. Vance. Enjoy your stay!"

I watched Ethan take both cards. Watched him smile down at Elena like she was something precious.

I wanted to kill him.

---

They disappeared into the elevator—Elena, Ethan, and Josephine. I stood frozen in the lobby, my phone vibrating in my pocket. I didn't answer it. Didn't move.

*Room 304.*

The number burned itself into my brain.

I waited exactly three minutes. Then I walked up to the front desk.

The blonde looked up with that same perky smile. "Can I help you, sir?"

**"I need to speak with one of your guests,"** I said, keeping my voice calm. Reasonable. **"Elena Vance. She's in room 304. Could you call up and let her know Julian is here to see her?"**

"Of course!" She picked up the phone, dialing the room number. After a moment, she frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no answer. Would you like to leave a message?"

*Of course there's no answer. They're probably already—*

I cut off that thought before it could finish forming.

**"It's urgent,"** I said, leaning forward slightly. **"A family emergency. I really need to get in touch with her immediately."**

The receptionist's expression softened with concern. "Oh no, I'm so sorry to hear that. Let me try calling again."

She dialed once more. Still no answer.

**"Look,"** I said, injecting just the right amount of desperation into my voice. **"Elena is... she's my ex-wife. We have a daughter together."** The lie came easily. **"Her grandmother is in the hospital. Elena's phone must be dead—she never charges the damn thing. I drove three hours to find her."**

The girl's eyes widened with sympathy. "Oh my goodness, that's terrible. But sir, I really can't just give out room keys to non-registered guests. It's hotel policy. Even in emergencies, I'd need to verify—"

**"Then what do you suggest?"** I kept my voice level, but let some frustration bleed through. **"Her grandmother is dying. Elena doesn't know. Every minute I waste down here is—"**

"I understand, sir, I really do. But my hands are tied. I could lose my job if I gave out unauthorized room access. Maybe you could try calling her cell phone again? Or I could have security escort you upstairs to knock on the door?"

Security. That would complicate things.

**"She won't answer her phone,"** I said. **"And if security gets involved, it'll just upset her more. She's... she's fragile right now. Going through a difficult time."** I ran a hand through my hair, playing up the concerned ex-husband angle. **"Look, I know this is irregular, but surely there's some exception for family emergencies?"**

The receptionist bit her lip, clearly torn. "I really wish I could help, sir, but our policy is very strict. We've had issues in the past with... well, with domestic situations. I'm not saying that's what this is!" she added quickly. "But management has made it clear that we cannot give room access to anyone not registered, regardless of the circumstances."

*Domestic situations.* The irony wasn't lost on me.

**"What if I register for my own room?"** I tried a different approach. **"Same floor. Then I'd be a guest, and surely I could—"**

"You still wouldn't be authorized to access another guest's room, sir. I'm truly sorry."

I could see she was genuinely apologetic, but also absolutely immovable. The sweet, sympathetic expression never wavered, but there was steel underneath it. She'd probably dealt with this exact situation before.

*Time for a different strategy.*

I straightened up, letting the mask of the concerned family member slip away.

**"Do you know who I am?"** I asked quietly.

Her smile faltered slightly. "I... no, sir. Should I?"

**"Julian Sterling. Sterling Conglomerate."** I pulled out my wallet, sliding a black American Express card across the counter. The weight of it made a soft thunk against the marble surface. **"I own seventeen hotels across the East Coast. I'm currently looking to expand into this region."**

Her eyes dropped to the card, and I saw the exact moment recognition hit. The color drained from her face.

**"Now,"** I continued, my voice taking on the cold, corporate tone I'd learned from my father, **"I can either buy this hotel outright and fire every employee who's made my evening difficult, or you can give me a key to room 304 and we can pretend this conversation never happened."**

"Sir, I—" Her voice came out as barely a whisper.

**"I'll pay for every room in this hotel if that's what it takes,"** I said, leaning forward. **"Or you can give me what I need and save us both the trouble. Your choice."**

Her hand was trembling as she reached for the key card machine. "I... I could lose my job for this."

**"You'll lose more than that if you don't."

The words came out harsher than I'd intended. I watched her flinch, saw the fear in her young eyes, and felt a stab of self-loathing.

*This is who you are now. This is what you've become.*

But I didn't take it back. I couldn't. Not when Elena was upstairs with another man. Not when every second I stood here was another second for Ethan to—

The key card machine beeped softly. The girl's hand shook as she programmed a new card.

**"Room 304,"** she whispered, sliding it across the counter without meeting my eyes.

"Thank you," I said quietly, pocketing the card.

She didn't respond. Didn't look up. Just stared at her computer screen like it might offer her some escape from what had just happened.

I turned and walked toward the elevator, leaving her behind.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the third floor.

*Room 304.*