Chapter 3

A few days later, Julian found me in the library. I was poring over blueprints for a public housing project, trying to lose myself in the familiar comfort of lines and angles. He didn' t say anything, just stood in the doorway, watching me. I could feel his gaze on my back, heavy and appraising. In my first life, his scrutiny would have made me nervous. Now, it was just an annoyance.

When he finally spoke, his voice startled me. "What are you doing?"

I didn't look up. "Working."

"I thought my mother told you to help with the gala."

"I was busy," I said, my voice flat.

He walked further into the room, stopping beside my table. He looked down at the blueprints, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something that wasn't disdain. It was curiosity. He was a tech mogul, a man who understood systems and design.

He was seeing a part of me that Sophia had never told him about, the competent professional, not the desperate social climber. It made him uncertain, and that gave me a small sliver of satisfaction.

The moment was broken by the ringing of my phone. It was my mother' s neighbor. My heart instantly seized with a familiar fear. "Eleanor, it's your mother. She collapsed. The ambulance is on its way."

The world tilted. "I'm coming right now."

I shot up from my chair, grabbing my purse. Julian was staring at me, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"My mother. I have to go to the hospital." Panic clawed at my throat. I couldn't lose her. Not now.

I ran out of the library and down the hall, fumbling for my car keys. A hand closed around my arm, stopping me. It was Julian. "I'll drive you," he said. It wasn't an offer, it was a command.

The ride to the hospital was a tense, silent blur. I stared out the window, my mind racing. Julian drove with an unnerving speed and precision, navigating traffic with aggressive confidence. When we finally arrived, he followed me into the emergency room without a word.

We found my mother in a small cubicle, looking frail and small against the stark white sheets. A doctor was explaining that her chronic heart condition had taken a turn for the worse.

The stress of the past few weeks, the scandal, the rushed wedding, it had all been too much for her. When she saw Julian standing behind me, a wave of anxiety washed over her face, and her breath hitched. The monitor beside her bed beeped faster.

"Mom, it's okay," I said, rushing to her side, taking her hand. "I'm here."

Julian' s presence was making it worse. He was a physical embodiment of all her fears and my sacrifices. He stood there, awkwardly, a symbol of the powerful family we were now indebted to. His expression was a mixture of impatience and something else I couldn't quite decipher.

I took charge, speaking with the doctors in a calm, clear voice, asking the right questions, understanding the medical jargon. I was no longer the terrified daughter, but a woman in control, a woman fighting for her mother' s life.

After the doctors left, my mother gripped my hand, her eyes filled with tears. "Eleanor," she whispered, her voice weak. "Don't leave him. Please. Look at what he did, coming here with you. The Thornes are a good family. We can't afford to make them angry. What would people say?"

Her words were like a chain, tightening around my heart. Even now, on the verge of a health crisis, her primary concern was societal judgment, my reputation, our security. She saw Julian's presence not as an intrusion, but as a lifeline. She was pushing me back into the cage, terrified of what would happen if I tried to fly free.

"Mom, just rest," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "We'll talk later."

The ride back to the mansion was even more silent than the one to the hospital. The sun had set, and the city lights blurred past the window. I felt emotionally drained, hollowed out by fear and frustration.

As we pulled through the imposing gates of the Thorne estate, Julian finally broke the silence. His voice was laced with a familiar, cutting cruelty. "Quite the performance back there. Is your whole family this dramatic? You get a little sick and suddenly you need the son of a billionaire to hold your hand."

The words hit me like a physical blow. All the control I had maintained, all the strength I had projected, crumbled in that moment. I turned to him, my voice shaking with a rage that had been simmering for a decade.

"She has a serious heart condition, you callous bastard. The stress of this sham marriage, the one you and your family forced on me to protect your precious name, is literally killing her."

He looked taken aback, surprised by the venom in my voice. He had expected tears, or a frightened silence. He had not expected a fight.

"It' s not my fault she' s sick," he said, his own anger rising to meet mine.

"No," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper as the car rolled to a stop in front of the mansion. "It' s mine. For ever thinking any of you were human."

I got out of the car and slammed the door, not waiting for him. I walked into the massive, empty house, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the grand foyer. I had never felt so alone. Trapped by my mother' s illness, tied to a man who despised me, haunted by a future I was desperate to avoid. The weight of it all was suffocating.