At the celebration for his company going public, Julian Conrad drank from the glass his secretary handed him, a smudge of her lipstick still on the rim. When he came home that night, I asked for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. "It was just for show, Isabelle. Is this really necessary?" He scoffed. "And where would you go without me?" I hadn't expected that. I stood there, frozen. In that moment, he seemed to realize his mistake. He fought through his drunken haze, trying to take it back. But before he could, I asked softly, "The woman living in the Harborview apartment—is she just for show, too?" … My voice was quiet, but it hit Julian like a thunderclap. His breathing hitched. He dropped the playful act, his body tensing as he took a step back. "How did you know?" How did I know? Because his little darling couldn't wait to introduce herself. Before I could answer, Julian's demeanor shifted. The calm was gone. "Mona is... different from the others," he admitted. "But Isabelle, you don't need to go to her." I knew what he was worried about. He was afraid I'd do what I always did—hear a whisper of a rumor and show up on the woman's doorstep, ready to ruin her life, just like all the others before her. But not this time. This time, I genuinely wanted out. Seeing how desperate he was to protect her, I realized this Mona must be special. In the past, he'd let me deal with the other women, real or imagined, however I saw fit. And as for her being "well-behaved"? If she were truly so well-behaved, she wouldn't have shown up in front of me in the first place. But I wouldn't expose her. Julian would find out the truth on his own soon enough. "If she's so wonderful," I said, my voice flat, "wouldn't it be better for you to divorce me and marry her?" He shook his head, his refusal firm. "You're different, Isabelle. I'll never divorce you." For a fleeting second, his words sparked a familiar anger in me, but it was quickly extinguished by his next, arrogant statement. "So, you don't need to bother Mona. She will never be a threat to your interests." His mercenary tone made my stomach turn. I don't know when it happened, but he had started to measure everything, even love, in terms of profit and loss. He'd forgotten that when we first got married, it was in his grandfather's old house in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but muddy fields. "Julian," I said, my voice barely a whisper, "if it was all about your 'interests,' if it was all about money... why would I have married you in the first place?" He froze, just for a moment, then looked me up and down and let out a laugh. A cold, mocking laugh. "Isabelle, before you say something like that, you should take a look in the mirror. Look at what you're wearing, what you own." "Without me, could you afford clothes that cost thousands of dollars? Jewelry with six-figure price tags?" He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist without waiting for an invitation. He pressed his body against mine, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Isabelle, my money is yours. My heart is yours." "So don't worry about where my body is, okay?" His warm, alcohol-scented breath ghosted across my neck. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on my shoulder. He saw my struggle and chuckled, then released me. He leaned in, his dark eyes cold and piercing as they met mine. "Don't be too greedy," he warned. "You'll end up with nothing." A phone call saved me from the suffocating moment. It was Mona. Julian was right. On my own, I could never afford this life. Without him, I had nowhere to go. After my mother died and my father remarried, I had no family, no home. I twisted the ring on my finger, the diamond catching the light. I remembered its price tag clearly: seventy thousand dollars. The matching necklace was two hundred and twenty thousand. The dress I was wearing was nearly six. It was more money than I could ever earn in a lifetime. But so what? Jewelry wasn't a necessity. I could wear a fifty-dollar dress and be just fine. His words didn't sway me. They only strengthened my resolve. The next few days were a blur of law firms. Each one ended in failure. I'd exhausted nearly every option in the city. When I finally dragged myself home, exhausted and defeated, Julian was waiting for me in the living room. He set down his newspaper, a look of calm satisfaction on his face. "Find a lawyer, Isabelle?" I knew then why I had failed. He'd known what I was going to do. He'd gotten to them all first. "I told you," he said, his voice soft. "We're not getting a divorce." He held out a handkerchief. "You're sweating." I slapped it away. He just smiled, unfazed by my anger. "Don't look at me like that, Isabelle." "You've been a housewife for too long. You've forgotten that the world isn't black and white." I scoffed, turning away. No, I was learning that lesson very quickly. "Mona had a lapse in judgment," he said, his tone placating. "She bothered you. I promise, she won't dare come near you again." "Can you end it with her?" I asked, looking him in the eye. He sighed. "Isabelle, don't be so idealistic." "If it's not Mona, it will be…" I dropped my gaze, tuning out the rest of his words. I stared at the intricate pattern of the carpet, my mind already packing a suitcase for a teaching trip. That morning, I'd seen an ad for a volunteer teaching program. During the thirty-minute cab ride to the first law firm, I'd put together my application and sent it in. On the way home, I saw I'd been accepted. Things with Julian were at a stalemate. Leaving the city seemed like the best option. When the program was over, I'd find a lawyer from out of state. Seeing that I wasn't arguing, Julian fell silent. After a moment, he spoke again. "I won't end things with Mona, but I promise, she will never be seen in public with me. She will never threaten your position. And all my money is in your name. Can't you just stop being so dramatic about love and affection?" He reached for my hand, but I stepped away. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "What more do you want?" "Look at the men I know. They're all like this. Most of them are worse." I knew he was right. His business partner, for example, had a string of mistresses. But just because other people did it, did that make it right for us? Seeing the irritation on his face, I swallowed my words. "I'm tired," I said. "I'm going to bed." It wasn't a lie. Days of rejection and condescension had worn me down. I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke, the sun was setting. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the volunteer program coordinator. I accepted her friend request, and a message immediately popped up. [Ms. Ross, we'll be meeting at the city airport in one week to fly out together.] I replied, and she sent over a list of necessary documents and things to keep in mind. It had been so long since I'd dealt with paperwork. I was exhausted, but for the first time in a long time, my heart felt light. I saw Julian at the hospital and finally understood why he'd been gone for the past two days. He was with Mona. They were walking into the obstetrics and gynecology department together. I glanced at the appointment board. It would be a while until my turn. I found a seat not too far from them. After a long wait, Mona came out of the office, a barely concealed joy on her face. A cold premonition washed over me. Mona was pregnant. But Julian… he had a low sperm count. We'd been married for ten years and never had a child. If Mona was really pregnant, would he finally agree to a divorce? I decided to stop hiding. I walked up behind them. A flicker of hope, the thought of freedom, brought a smile to my face. But it died just as quickly. "Get rid of it." I was standing two steps behind them when I heard Julian's cold, merciless words. Mona looked stunned. The joy vanished from her face, replaced by a ghastly pallor. She swayed on her feet. She pleaded with him with her eyes, but he was unmoved. In fact, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face at her disobedience. "I won't acknowledge this child," he said, his voice hard. "You can't have it. I won't have a bastard." Mona seemed to misunderstand. She saw me, and rushed forward, dropping to her knees at my feet. "Mrs. Conrad," she sobbed, "I know I'm shameless. I know I'm immoral. But please, I'm begging you, let me have this baby." She clung to my legs, trapping me. I was afraid of falling, so I stood perfectly still, shooting a look at Julian that said, This is what you call not bothering me? "Please, Mrs. Conrad, it's a life," she wailed. "Please, I'm begging you." A crowd was gathering. People were starting to whisper, piecing together the drama unfolding before them. As the murmurs grew, Julian's face darkened with anger. But Mona was shamelessly committed to her performance. Out of the three of us, I was the only one who felt the humiliation. "Mona." Julian's voice was a low growl from behind me. The woman at my feet flinched. She looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears, a desperate plea for pity. It wouldn't work. This was Julian Conrad, a self-made man who had clawed his way to the top of the city's business world in just eight years. His heart was harder than anyone's. But I was wrong. He looked at Mona, let out an almost imperceptible sigh, and stepped forward to help her up. "Stop crying," he said, his voice softening. "We'll talk about this at home." He gently wiped away her tears, his arm around her shoulders, supporting her. Was this really Julian? It felt like a dream. By the time I came to my senses, they were gone. Leaving me standing alone in the hospital corridor, a laughingstock for a growing audience of strangers. I tilted my head back, blinking away the tears. What a waste. I'd missed my appointment. I'd have to get back in line. It was almost dark by the time I finished my check-up and got home. I didn't turn on the lights. I just stood in the entryway, looking at the cold, empty house. Every detail was to my taste, yet it all made me feel sick. Because every corner held a trace of him. "You're back?" Julian's voice came from the bedroom. He walked out and handed me a glass of water. It was a familiar gesture, the one he always used when he wanted something from me. "Mona doesn't want to get rid of the baby," he said, placing the glass in front of me. He watched me, testing the waters. "I was thinking… maybe we could let her have it, and you could raise it as our own." I turned to look at him, and he quickly averted his gaze. As if catching himself, he looked back, his voice suddenly full of false confidence. "The Hamiltons from Sterling Group did the same thing, didn't they? Their current CEO was an illegitimate son they brought home to raise." His words sent my heart plummeting. The Hamiltons. The laughingstock of our social circle. The man who brought his illegitimate son home, pushed out his own legitimate child, and now lived with both his wife and his mistress under the same roof. I remembered the first time Julian had told me about them, the contempt in his voice. And now, he had become the very person he despised. Perhaps my stare was too intense, because he quickly changed the subject. "Why were you at the hospital today? Are you sick? I thought your last check-up was fine." …
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "386297", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel