Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 43

Julian: POV

The words left my mouth—"What the hell is going on?"—and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

I stepped fully into the doorway, every muscle in my body coiled tight as I took in the scene before me.

My mother sat at the head of the table like a fucking queen holding court.

Victoria perched beside her, their hands clasped together.

And Elena—my wife—sat alone on the opposite side, her spine rigid, her hands folded in her lap like she was facing an execution squad.

The cream-colored envelope on the table between them might as well have been a loaded gun

.

Behind me, I heard my father clear his throat uncomfortably. "Julian, maybe we should—"

"Stay out of this, Dad." I didn't take my eyes off my mother.

I'd left him at the bar less than five minutes ago, nodding along to his bullshit about the Milan office expansion.

But something had felt wrong. The way Mother had dismissed me so quickly. The way Victoria had smirked as we left. The way Elena's face had gone carefully blank.

So I'd cut Dad off mid-sentence and come back.

And now I knew why my instincts had been screaming.

"Mother." My voice came out colder than I intended. "I'll ask again. What the hell is going on?"

Evelyn's expression didn't change. Didn't even flicker. She just turned those ice-blue eyes on me.

"Julian, darling." Her tone was pleasant. Too pleasant. "Victoria and I were just having a conversation with Elena. Nothing that concerns you."

"Bullshit." I stepped fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind me "What's in that envelope?"

Before anyone could stop me, I reached across the table and snatched it up. Tore it open. Scanned the contents.

**Private Settlement Agreement. In exchange for immediate termination of marriage contract: $5,000,000 USD. Letter of recommendation to major fashion houses. Non-disclosure agreement regarding Sterling family matters.**

My blood ran cold.

"This is between me and Elena," I said quietly, my voice deadly calm as I held up the paper. Anger pulsed through my veins, but I kept it controlled, measured. "This is *my* problem. Mine. And I don't appreciate you interfering in my personal life."

"Your personal life?" Mother's eyebrow arched. "Julian, dear, when you married a girl from the servants' quarters and hid it from the entire family, it stopped being just your personal life. It became a family matter."

I felt Elena flinch beside me, though she didn't move.

"She's my *wife*," I said, each word deliberate. "Which makes this between us. Not you."

"A wife you were forced to marry," Mother said smoothly. "A wife you've kept hidden for three years. Let's not pretend this is some grand love story, darling."

The words hit harder than they should have. Because she was right. I *had* been forced. I *had* kept Elena hidden.

But that didn't give my mother the right to try to pay her off like she was some kind of problem to be solved.

"That's enough." I crumpled the envelope in my fist. "We're leaving."

"Julian, wait—" Victoria started, but I cut her off with a look.

I extended my hand to Elena. "Come on."

She stared at my hand for a long moment, her amber eyes unreadable. Then slowly, carefully, she stood and took it.

As we moved toward the door, Mother's voice stopped us.

"Julian. We need to talk. Privately."

I looked at Elena. "Wait outside. Please. Just for a few minutes."

She pulled her hand from mine, her expression carefully blank. "Of course."

The moment she left, Mother stood and gestured to a small private alcove off the main dining room.

"Now," she said firmly.

---

The door to the alcove clicked shut behind us. Mother turned to face me, her arms crossed, her expression sharp as broken glass.

"Are you developing real feelings for her?" The question was blunt. Direct. "Is that what this is about?"

I stared at my mother, my jaw clenching. "That's none of your business."

"It absolutely is my business when you're about to make a catastrophic mistake." Her voice hardened. "Julian, you *hated* that girl three years ago. You told me she drugged you at that yacht party. That she manipulated your grandfather into forcing this marriage. That she trapped you."

The words hung in the air like accusations.

"I know what I said—"

"So what's changed?" Mother moved closer, her eyes searching my face. "Three years of her warming your bed and suddenly you're defending her? Playing the noble husband?"

"I'm not playing anything." My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "I just don't think it's appropriate for you to try to buy her off behind my back."

"Appropriate?" Mother laughed, sharp and bitter. "Darling, nothing about this situation is appropriate. You married a housekeeper's daughter. You've kept her locked away like a dirty secret. And now you're suddenly getting territorial when I offer her a perfectly reasonable exit?"

I didn't answer because I didn't know how to answer.

"Tell me the truth," Mother said, her voice softening slightly. "Do you have feelings for her? Real feelings?"

*Do I?*

The question rattled around my head like a pinball. Every time I tried to pin down what I felt for Elena, it slipped away. Morphed into something else.

Guilt. Responsibility. Desire. Possession.

But love? I didn't know what that fucking felt like anymore.

"I don't love her," I said firmly. More to convince myself than my mother. "But the contract runs for five years. We're only three years in. There's no reason to terminate early."

---

The door to the alcove opened and my father stepped in, his expression carefully neutral.

"Everything alright in here?"

"Fine," I said flatly. "Just having a conversation."

Dad moved to Mother's side, his hand finding her lower back in that automatic way married people touch.

"Julian," he said carefully. "Your mother and I are only trying to help. We want what's best for you."

"By paying off my wife?"

"By giving you an exit," Dad corrected. "A clean, simple exit from a marriage that never should have happened in the first place."

"Grandfather wanted—"

"Your grandfather wanted you settled," Dad interrupted. "He wanted to see you married before he died. But he's recovered now. He's stable. There's no reason to continue this charade."

"It's not a charade." The words came out before I could stop them. "We're legally married. That makes it real."

Mother and Dad exchanged a look.

"Son," Dad said finally, his voice taking on that reasonable tone he used in boardroom negotiations. "Let me ask you something. From a purely practical standpoint—what's the benefit of keeping this marriage going?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

*Because I don't want to lose her. Because she's the only person who's never wanted anything from me except me. Because the thought of her with someone else makes me want to break things.*

But I couldn't say any of that. Couldn't admit those things out loud.

"The contract isn't over," I said instead. "Breaking it early would cost more in legal fees than just letting it run its course."

"We'd handle the legal fees," Mother said immediately. "That's not an issue."

"And from a public relations standpoint," Dad added, "it's cleaner to end it now, quietly, before anyone finds out. Once word gets out that you've been hiding a marriage for three years—" He shook his head. "The optics aren't good, Julian. Better to cut ties now."

They had an answer for everything. A solution to every problem.

Except they were treating Elena like she *was* a problem. An inconvenience. Something to be managed and disposed of.

And something about that made my chest tight with anger I didn't want to examine too closely.

"No," I said quietly.

"No?" Mother repeated.

"No. I'm not terminating the contract early. Elena and I will finish out the five years. Then—" I paused. "Then we'll see."

"See what?" Dad pressed. "Julian, you just said yourself you don't love her—"

"I said I don't know what I feel." I cut him off. "There's a difference."

"Is there?" Mother's voice was sharp again. "Because from where I'm standing, you're holding onto this girl for no good reason. Out of guilt, maybe. Or stubbornness. But not love. Never love."

"The contract stands," I said firmly. "That's final."

I turned and walked out before they could argue further.