Please Come Back, My Love Chapter 57

Julian：POV

I'd stepped outside for air—just for a fucking minute.

The mansion's grand entrance hall had been suffocating. Too many people, too much noise, too many eyes watching me navigate this performance of family unity.

Grandfather's birthday party was already in full swing, but I couldn't shake the tension coiling in my gut.

*Where is she?*

Elena still hadn't arrived. I'd checked my phone three times in the last ten minutes. Nothing.

Part of me wondered if she'd actually come. If she'd finally decided to cut her losses and walk away for good.

*She wouldn't do that to Grandfather. Would she?*

No. Whatever else Elena was—whatever complicated mess existed between us—she loved the old man. She wouldn't miss his birthday. Not after everything he'd done for her.

But the silence from her end made my jaw clench. Made my hands curl into fists in my pockets.

I'd been avoiding her this week. Deliberately. Strategically.

*Can't let her think she has the upper hand. Can't let her get comfortable making demands.*

Every time we talked lately, it turned into the same fucking conversation. Divorce. Leaving. Moving on. Words that made something in my chest tighten uncomfortably, even though I kept telling myself I didn't care.

I'd already told her we'd discuss it after Grandfather's party. After this one last obligation was fulfilled. Then we could handle the... dissolution.

*The word tastes like ash.*

Besides, she was the one who'd caused all this mess with my mother. Victoria had told me everything—how Elena had been screaming at my mother in Bergdorf's, how the stress had triggered the heart attack. My mother just got out of the hospital because of her.

*She hasn't even apologized properly. Hasn't acknowledged what she did.*

That thought made the familiar anger simmer in my veins. Made it easier to justify the distance I'd maintained.

*What if she really doesn't show up? What if this is it?*

I ran a hand through my hair, the October evening air biting at my skin. The Connecticut estate's gardens stretched before me, meticulously maintained, every hedge trimmed to perfection. Just like everything else in my life—controlled, ordered, exactly as it should be.

Except for her.

Elena had never fit into the neat boxes I'd tried to place her in. Never been the obedient contract wife I'd expected. Never stopped pushing back, even when it would've been easier to just comply.

*And you hate that. Hate that she won't just—*

My thoughts cut off abruptly as movement caught my eye.

The back terrace. Near the pool.

Two figures. One backing away, the other advancing.

My body went rigid.

*Elena.*

I'd recognize that silhouette anywhere—the curve of her shoulders, the way she held herself even when under attack. She was wearing navy, her hair falling loose around her face.

And Catherine. My fucking cousin, her face twisted with malice, her hands raised.

They were arguing. I could see Catherine's mouth moving, see Elena clutching something against her chest—something burgundy and fabric.

*What the hell is Catherine doing?*

Then I saw it happen.

Catherine's foot hooked behind Elena's ankle.

Her hands shoved Elena's shoulders.

And in that split second before Elena fell, I heard it—her voice cutting through the evening air, desperate and terrified:

"I'm pregnant!"

The words hit me like a physical blow.

*Pregnant.*

*She's pregnant.*

Then Elena disappeared into the pool.

*No. NO.*

The word roared through my head, a primal sound I didn't recognize as coming from me.

*She can't swim. And she's pregnant. She's carrying—*

*Our child.*

The memory slammed into me with brutal force—Elena at the Hamptons, age twelve, refusing to get in the water during one of Grandfather's summer parties. The staff had whispered about it. How the housekeeper's adopted daughter was terrified of deep water. How she'd never learned.

*And I never fucking taught her. Never thought to.*

*And now she's drowning. With my child.*

My legs were moving before my brain caught up. I sprinted across the lawn, jacket flying behind me, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst from my chest.

Twenty yards. Fifteen.

I could see ripples on the water's surface. Could hear Catherine standing at the edge, her voice carrying across the evening air.

*"...Julian will be relieved. No messy divorce. No scandal."*

*She pushed her. She fucking pushed my pregnant wife into the pool.*

Ten yards.

*If she's hurt—if the baby—if I lose them both—*

"Catherine!" The roar tore from my throat, raw and violent. "What the fuck did you do?"

She spun around, face pale, eyes wide.

I didn't slow down. Didn't stop to ask questions. Just hit the edge of the pool and dove.

---

The water was fucking freezing.

My suit jacket dragged at my shoulders, my shoes weighted like anchors, but none of it mattered. Only one thing mattered.

*Find her. Find them. Find them now.*

The pool lights were on, casting everything in eerie blue-white glow. I kicked hard, scanning desperately.

*There.*

She was sinking. Her navy dress billowed around her like a shroud, the fabric tangled around her legs, pulling her down. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, bubbles escaping.

*No no no no—*

*The baby. Our baby.*

I grabbed her under the arms, hauling her upward with every ounce of strength I had. She was heavier than I expected—waterlogged clothes, dead weight, completely limp.

*Don't be dead. Don't you fucking dare be dead. Either of you.*

We broke the surface. I gasped for air, one arm wrapped around her chest, the other treading water as I swam backward toward the shallow end.

"Elena!" My voice cracked, unfamiliar with panic. "Breathe! Come on, breathe!"

*Please. Please don't take them from me.*

No response. Her head lolled against my shoulder, hair plastered to her face.

*Fuck.*

I reached the steps, stumbling up them, Elena's body cradled against mine. Water streamed from both of us, my clothes clinging, her dress a sodden mess.

I laid her on the pool deck, my hands shaking as I tilted her head back, checked her airway.

*No pulse. No breathing.*

"No." The word came out fierce, desperate. "You don't get to leave me like this. You don't—"

*The baby. Our baby. I can't lose you both. I can't—*

I positioned my hands on the center of her chest, on the lower half of her breastbone, just like I'd been taught in that mandatory CPR course years ago. Started compressions.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

*Come on, Elena. Come back to me. Both of you.*

*I heard you. I heard what you said. You're pregnant. You're carrying my child.*

*And I never knew. You never told me because you were too afraid.*

*Because I made you afraid.*

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

My arms burned. My shoulders screamed. But I kept going.

*I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Just come back. Please.*

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

I tilted her head back, pinched her nose, and gave two rescue breaths. Watched her chest rise and fall.

Nothing.

"Goddammit!" I started compressions again, harder this time. "Don't you dare give up! Don't you—"