Chapter 4 - The Mountain Confrontation
Day twenty-eight. Two days before the divorce would become irreversible.
I was in the front yard of Pine Hollow, planting the last of the hydrangeas with Liam. The mountain air was crisp, and my hands were covered in rich, dark soil. I was laughing at one of Liam’s terrible jokes, feeling lighter than I had in a decade, when the roar of an expensive engine broke the tranquility.
A sleek black Bentley pulled up the dirt driveway, looking entirely absurd against the backdrop of the rugged wilderness.
Julian stepped out.
He looked terrible. His designer suit was wrinkled, he hadn't shaved in days, and the arrogant, untouchable billionaire I had left outside the courthouse was entirely gone. He stared at me, his eyes wide, taking in the scene. I wasn't weeping. I wasn't ruined. I was glowing, standing next to a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked at Julian with quiet, protective warning.
“Claire,” Julian breathed, taking a step forward.
Liam stood up, wiping his hands on a towel. “Do we have a problem here, Claire?”
“No, Liam. Could you give us a minute?”
Liam nodded, shooting Julian an icy glare before walking up to the porch. I turned to my soon-to-be ex-husband, crossing my arms over my dirty flannel shirt.
“What are you doing here, Julian?”
“I came to bring you back,” he said desperately, closing the distance between us. “I kicked Mia out. It’s over. I was a fool, Claire. A midlife crisis, temporary insanity, whatever you want to call it. I didn't realize what I was throwing away.”
“You didn't throw me away,” I corrected him, my voice steady and cold. “I walked away. There is a massive difference.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” he begged, reaching out as if to touch my arm. I stepped back. “You want seventy percent? Eighty? Take it. Just come back to the manor. The company is falling apart. I’m falling apart.”
I looked at the man I had once loved more than my own life. I remembered the boy whose hands shook when he kissed me. That boy was dead, buried under years of greed, ego, and entitlement.
“Do you remember what you told me outside that restaurant?” I asked quietly. “You said you didn't love me anymore. You looked me in the eye and erased twelve years of loyalty because a twenty-two-year-old made you feel like a god. You don't want me back, Julian. You just want your peace of mind back. You want your comfortable, perfectly managed life back. But I am no longer employed as your savior.”
Julian fell to his knees in the dirt. The great Julian Mercer, weeping on the ground.
“Please, Claire. I have nothing without you.”
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“You have your hundreds of millions,” I said, turning my back on him. “I suggest you learn how to spend them alone. Don't ever come here again.”
I walked up the porch steps, went inside my beautiful, peaceful cottage, and locked the door behind me. I didn't look out the window to see him leave.
