Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 41

Elena: POV

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there, three feet from Julian's family, watching Evelyn Sterling's cool gaze sweep over me like I was an afterthought. A piece of furniture someone had forgotten to move.

"Elena," she said again, her voice carrying that particular tone wealthy women perfected—polite enough to pass for civility, cold enough to cut. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

*Of course you didn't. Because I'm nothing. A ghost in your son's life.*

I forced a smile, the kind I'd practiced a thousand times in mirrors. Sweet. Unassuming. The perfect mask for a girl who knew her place.

"Mrs. Sterling," I managed. "It's wonderful to see you again. I hope your flight was comfortable."

Evelyn's lips curved—not quite a smile, more like the expression you'd give a well-trained dog who'd performed a trick adequately. "How sweet of you to ask."

She turned immediately back to Victoria, as if I'd already been dismissed from her mental register. "Darling, you simply must tell me about that Paris collection you were working on. I heard it was stunning."

Victoria's face lit up. "Oh, it was incredible! The fabric sourcing alone took months, but the creative freedom was worth it. You know how important authentic vision is in design."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper.

Dylan Sterling stepped forward then, extending his hand with the practiced ease of a man who'd negotiated billion-dollar deals. "Elena. Good to see you."

"Mr. Sterling," I replied, matching his grip. "Welcome back."

"Thank you." He released my hand and immediately turned to Julian. "We should discuss the European expansion over dinner. I have some concerns about the Milan office."

And just like that, I was invisible again.

Julian's hand found my waist—possessive, anchoring—but his attention was already on his father. "We can go over the numbers tonight."

I stood there, Julian's hand on my hip like a claim of ownership, while his entire family orbited around Victoria as if she were the sun and I were empty space.

Evelyn and Victoria were laughing about something—probably some inside joke from years of knowing each other, of belonging to the same world.

*Be sweet,* Julian had said. *Smile. Don't let her get under your skin.*

Fine. I could do that. I'd been doing it for three fucking years.

I opened my mouth, ready to try again, to force myself into their conversation. To be the good daughter-in-law Julian wanted me to be.

"Mrs. Sterling," I started, my voice bright and eager—too eager, God, I sounded desperate even to my own ears. "I'd love to hear more about your time in France. Julian mentioned you were in the south—"

"The Côte d'Azur, yes." Evelyn's tone was clipped, her eyes not quite meeting mine. "It was lovely. Very restorative."

She paused, and for a heartbeat I thought she might actually engage. Might ask me something, anything.

Instead, she turned to Victoria. "You remember that darling little bistro in Antibes? The one with the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean?"

"Oh, of course!" Victoria's laugh was musical, perfectly pitched. "We had the most divine bouillabaisse there."

*We.* They'd been there together. While I'd been in New York, alone in that cold penthouse, wondering if my husband would come home.

I felt Julian's fingers tighten slightly on my waist. A warning? Or did he even notice the way his mother had just shut me out?

"Elena doesn't really understand French cuisine," Evelyn continued, not even glancing my way. "Such refined palates take years to develop. Isn't that right, dear?"

The "dear" landed like a slap.

"Actually, I—" I tried again, my smile feeling more like a grimace now.

"Oh, Victoria, before I forget—" Evelyn reached into her designer handbag, pulling out a small velvet box. "I found these in a little boutique in Nice. They made me think of you immediately."

She opened the box to reveal a pair of diamond earrings—delicate, elegant, probably worth more than everything in my closet combined.

Victoria gasped. "Evelyn, they're beautiful! You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense. Consider it a welcome home gift." Evelyn's smile was warm. Genuine. Everything she'd never given me.

My throat tightened. I pressed my hand against my stomach—instinctive, protective.

"Mother," Julian's voice cut through the moment, sharp enough to make everyone turn. "We should probably head to dinner. The restaurant is expecting us."

Thank God. At least there, at a table, I could hide behind a menu.

But then Evelyn's expression changed. Subtly. Like storm clouds gathering on a clear horizon.

"Actually, Julian..." She glanced at me—really looked at me for the first time since arriving—and something cold flickered in her eyes. "Victoria suggested we take her car to dinner. She knows this wonderful place in TriBeCa."

*No.*

The word screamed in my head, but I couldn't make it reach my mouth.

"Her car?" Julian's hand on my waist went rigid. "Mother, we drove here together. Elena and I—"

"I'm sure Elena won't mind." Evelyn's tone was pleasant. Final. "After all, it's been so long since we've seen Victoria. And you know how much your father and I enjoy catching up with her."

She was doing this on purpose. Making it clear—crystal fucking clear—who was family and who was... what? An inconvenience? A temporary mistake?

"Mrs. Sterling," I heard myself say, my voice surprisingly steady. "If you'd prefer—"

"It's settled then." Evelyn was already linking arms with Victoria, steering her toward the exit. "Victoria, darling, tell me more about that Milan show. I heard Valentino himself attended?"

Dylan followed without a word, his hand finding the small of Evelyn's back in that automatic way married people move together. Like they were a single unit. A team.

Julian stood frozen beside me, his jaw so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

"Julian," I whispered. "It's fine. Really. I can take an Uber—"

"No." The word came out harsh. Final. "That's not—fuck."

But his mother was already at Victoria's car—a sleek silver Mercedes that probably cost more than most people's houses. Victoria was holding the passenger door open, her smile victorious as Evelyn slid inside.

"Julian!" Evelyn called out, waving from the window. "Don't keep us waiting, darling. We're absolutely starving."

Dylan got into the back seat. The door closed.

And just before Victoria walked around to the driver's side, she turned. Met my eyes across the parking lot.

Her smile was slow. Poisonous. Triumphant.

Then she got in the car and drove away, taking Julian's parents with her.

Julian's hand finally dropped from my waist. He stood there, staring at the taillights disappearing into Manhattan traffic, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice flat. Empty. "She shouldn't have—that wasn't appropriate."

*Appropriate.* Like this was a business meeting gone wrong instead of his mother making it painfully clear I didn't belong.

"It's fine," I lied, hugging myself against the November cold. "Like you said, we should probably get going. Don't want to keep them waiting."

We walked to his Bentley in silence. He opened my door and I slid inside, the leather seats cold against my back.

The engine purred to life. Classical music filled the silence—some piano piece I didn't recognize. Probably something cultured people were supposed to know.

I stared out the window, watching the airport lights blur past, my hand pressed against my stomach where our baby was growing. A baby his mother would never accept. A baby I was hiding like it was shameful.

*You're not worthy of carrying my child.*

Julian's words from weeks ago echoed in my head, mixing with Evelyn's cold dismissal.

Maybe they were both right. Maybe I'd never be worthy of this family.

"Elena." Julian's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Don't." His hand found mine on my lap, threading our fingers together. "Don't listen to them. Don't let them make you feel like you're not enough."