Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 36

Elena: POV

The next few days felt like living in a fever dream.

Julian came home more often. Not every night—he still had late meetings, still disappeared for hours without explanation—but more than he had in months. Maybe even years.

And when he was home, he was... different.

Not soft, exactly. Julian Sterling would never be soft. But there was a patience to him now that hadn't existed before. A tenderness in the way he touched me, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

Like I was something precious instead of something convenient.

*Don't get used to it,* I warned myself every time my heart did that stupid flutter thing. *Don't start hoping again.*

But fuck, it was hard not to hope when he'd pull me into his lap while working on his laptop, pressing absent-minded kisses to my temple. When he'd text me in the middle of the day asking if I'd eaten. When he'd trace lazy patterns on my skin in the drowsy minutes after sex, like he was trying to memorize me.

The investigation into those photos came back exactly as I'd said—AI-generated fakes, sophisticated enough to fool a casual observer but falling apart under forensic analysis. Julian had hired the best tech experts money could buy, and they'd torn the images to shreds.

He'd shown me the report two nights ago, his jaw tight. "You were right. They were fake."

I'd waited for the apology. For him to acknowledge that he'd believed the worst of me without question, that he'd let those fabricated images poison three years of our marriage.

Instead, he'd pulled me close and murmured, "It wasn't Victoria who did this."

My stomach had dropped. "Julian—"

"She wouldn't." His voice was firm, final. "I know her. She's not capable of something like that."

*But I am, apparently,* I'd thought bitterly. *I'm capable of drugging you, trapping you, ruining your life—but your precious white moonlight? She's a fucking saint.*

I hadn't argued. What was the point? He'd believe what he wanted to believe.

But at least he knew the photos were fake. That was something.

The other thing that had changed: Victoria's calls.

She still called him—I could see her name lighting up his phone screen at least once a day. But he didn't answer. Not when I was around, anyway.

He'd let it ring through to voicemail, then silence the phone without even checking the message. Like she was just another business contact he'd get back to later.

It should have made me feel better. Should have given me that small sense of victory I'd been craving.

Instead, it made me nervous.

Because this felt like the calm before a storm. Like Julian was holding something back, building up to something I wasn't going to like.

*Or maybe,* that traitorous voice in my head whispered, *maybe he's actually choosing you. Maybe this is real.*

I pressed my hand to my still-flat stomach, feeling that familiar surge of protective fear.

Eleven weeks now. Almost three months. My clothes still fit, but barely. I'd started wearing looser sweaters, flowing blouses that disguised my shape. Soon I wouldn't be able to hide it anymore.

*Not yet,* I told myself. *Just a little longer. Let him fall for you first. Let him want you for real before you drop that bomb.*

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

**Julian:** [Picking you up at 4:30. Parents flying in today. Don't be late.]

Right. The airport.

I'd almost forgotten—Julian's parents were returning from France for Arthur's birthday celebration at the end of the month. We were supposed to meet them at the airport this afternoon.

His mother, Evelyn Sterling. The woman who'd made it crystal clear from day one that I wasn't good enough for her son, that I was just a temporary inconvenience she'd have to tolerate until the five-year contract expired.

*Great. Just fucking great.*

I glanced at the clock. 2:47 PM. That gave me less than two hours to make myself presentable.

I pulled myself out of bed and headed for the closet, scanning through my wardrobe for something appropriate. Something that said "respectable daughter-in-law" while still being loose enough to hide any hint of pregnancy.

My hand landed on a cream cashmere sweater—soft, elegant, deliberately oversized. I paired it with dark jeans and low heels, keeping everything understated and simple.

The opposite of what Victoria would wear, probably. She'd show up in some designer dress that cost more than my car, perfectly styled and polished.

*Stop comparing yourself to her,* I thought viciously, applying minimal makeup. *You're his wife. Not her.*

But the words felt hollow even in my own head.

---

Julian's Bentley pulled up exactly at 4:30.

I watched from the window as he stepped out, immaculate as always in a navy suit that probably cost five figures. His hair was perfectly styled, his movements precise and controlled.

God, he was beautiful. Even after three years, the sight of him made my chest tight.

I grabbed my coat and bag, taking one last look in the mirror. The sweater hung loose over my frame, disguising everything. Good.

The walk to the main entrance felt like descending into cold water, pressure building with each step. By the time I stepped outside, my palms were sweating.

Julian's eyes swept over me, that clinical assessment I'd come to recognize. Then something shifted in his expression—something almost like approval.

"You look good," he said quietly.

The compliment caught me off guard. "Thanks."

He opened the car door for me, and I slid inside, the leather seats warm against my back. Julian got in beside me, and the driver pulled smoothly into traffic.

For a few minutes, we sat in silence. I stared out the window, watching Manhattan blur past, trying to calm my racing heart.

Then Julian's hand found mine, his fingers threading through mine with surprising gentleness.

"My mother can be..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Difficult. Especially with you."

I turned to look at him. "I know."

His thumb traced circles on my palm. "So when we get there, just... be sweet. Smile. Don't let her get under your skin."