Chapter 20 - His First Apology
Julian apologized seventeen days after our wedding.
Not by text.
Not by email.
He appeared outside Rebecca’s office.
I was leaving through the underground garage when he stepped from behind a concrete pillar.
“Elena.”
I froze.
Rebecca’s assistant was beside me.
She immediately reached for her phone.
Julian lifted both hands.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
He looked different.
Unshaven.
Wrinkled shirt.
Dark circles beneath his eyes.
For one dangerous second, I remembered the man who used to bring me coffee on Sunday mornings.
Then I remembered the spreadsheet.
“Elena, please.”
“You need to speak to Rebecca.”
“I need to speak to my wife.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I’m sorry.”
There it was.
The sentence I had once imagined might matter.
It didn’t.
“For what?”
He blinked.
“What?”
“What are you sorry for?”
“All of it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He stepped closer.
The assistant moved between us.
Julian stopped.
“I’m sorry about the towel.”
“Anything else?”
“The bank.”
“Anything else?”
He swallowed.
“The documents.”
“Anything else?”
“My mother.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
His mother.
Always available when he needed somewhere else to place responsibility.
“What about six folders of women?”
His face changed.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“So you never read mine?”
Silence.
“You never used the information?”
“Elena—”
“You never asked about my grandfather’s trust?”
He looked down.
I nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
His voice cracked.
“I did love you.”
That sentence finally hurt.
Not because I believed him.
Because some part of me wished I still could.
“You may have.”
I said quietly.
“In whatever way you’re capable of loving someone.”
He stared at me.
“But you loved what you thought came attached to me more.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I was desperate.”
“There’s the truth.”
His eyes filled.
“My company was collapsing.”
“So you married me?”
“I thought once we were married, we would solve things together.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
“You would have said no.”
I stared at him.
He realized what he had just admitted.
Exactly.
“I was under pressure.”
“So was I.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like to watch everything your family built disappear.”
“No.”
“But I understand what it’s like to discover my husband researched my net worth before proposing.”
He took another step.
“I can change.”
“Then change.”
Hope flashed in his face.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I opened my car door.
“Change for the next woman.”
His face collapsed.
“Elena.”
“You don’t get me back as a reward for finally understanding that fraud is wrong.”
I climbed inside.
Before closing the door, I looked at him one last time.
“Julian.”
He leaned forward.
“You told me to earn my keep.”
His face tightened.
I smiled.
“So I did.”
“I kept my money.”
“I kept my identity.”
May you like
“And I kept walking.”
Then I shut the door.
