Chapter 7

I stepped between them. Crouched down next to Julian and looked him in the eye, evenly.

"I'm happy now. You have Chloe and a son. Both of us should be moving forward. Every time you come at me, you embarrass yourself. Why bother?"

Julian scrambled up and grabbed my hand, crying, past caring how he looked.

"Mira. I was wrong. I was so wrong. Every part of it was my fault. I was a piece of garbage."

"I've never been with Chloe since you left. She has the kid, that's it. Please. Give me one more chance. I'll do anything. Just come home."

I gave him a tired little smile.

"We can't go back, Julian. There's no going back. I have someone new. He makes me happy. Much happier than I ever was with you."

He wouldn't accept it. Still convinced.

"You're just hurting me. You can't actually be with a man. Don't lie to me. I can give you money, I can give you love. What the hell can he give you?"

I almost laughed. I pulled my hand free.

"Julian. Wake up. The panic attacks were an act. Chloe didn't tell you?"

His face went bloodless.

"I was disgusted by you. I didn't want you touching me. So I faked it. For years."

"I'm not rejecting men. I'm rejecting you."

Ethan, unhelpfully, chose that exact moment to add, "For the record, five times last night. She'd have gone for a sixth if she wasn't exhausted."

Julian turned the color of a bruise. He looked ready to kill.

Before he could, his security chief came running into the lounge with a panicked expression.

"Mr. Sterling, we have a situation. Your son."

Julian didn't even hear him. He was still reaching for me.

"Mira. Come home. I'll forget everything."

"Sir. The boy fell from a building. He didn't make it."

The color drained out of Julian a second time. He went still. He focused on his security chief like he was trying to remember how language worked.

"What did you say?"

The man answered carefully. "Miss Whitmore took him to the Blackwood penthouse. It happened there."

Julian's brow furrowed. "What was she doing at Blackwood's?"

"Sir. Miss Whitmore has been seeing Adrian Blackwood for three months. She brought the boy along today. No one was watching him. After the accident, she tried to leave the country. We stopped her at JFK."

The words hit him all at once. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

He was taken to the hospital. I went home.

Ethan watched me all night, afraid I'd go soft and run back to him.

He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, half-sulking.

"Baby. You're not caving, are you?"

I looked out at the Manhattan skyline. So many nights, Julian had stood behind me just like this, arms around my waist, staring out these same windows.

"My heart is a rock, sweetheart. It doesn't go soft anymore."

I laughed at myself a little.

A few days later, the news was everywhere.

Julian finally learned that the reason our divorce had gone through so cleanly years ago was because Chloe had handed his divorce attorney a mountain of evidence on his cheating.

She'd bought off his own lawyer.

That lawyer was Adrian Blackwood.

She'd thought if Julian divorced me, she'd finally take my place. She hadn't expected him to simply leave the Mrs. Sterling seat empty rather than give it to her.

She'd also figured out, years ago, that my panic attacks were fake. She never said a word.

Even with all that scheming, she could never have all of him.

Watching him drift through a new parade of women, she'd finally given up. She'd fallen, quietly, for the lawyer.

The tabloids stayed on the story for two weeks straight. Page Six. TMZ. Trending on X.

Julian pressed charges on both of them.

Chloe got seven years. Adrian got five, and was disbarred.

Julian's hair went white overnight. He developed a severe depressive disorder.

The first time I saw a photo of his white hair in the news, something cold moved through me.

He never came looking for me again.

We did bump into each other once. By accident.

He was ashen. He looked twenty years older than me.

I was carrying my baby girl, just a few months old. He saw her and started to smile. His eyes went red.

Neither of us spoke. We passed each other on the street.

Neither of us turned around.

Some things, once missed, are missed for good.

The End.