Chapter 8 - The Grandmother's Shadow
Before I could answer Julian,
the door to the office opened.
In walked Beatrice Foster,
Julian’s mother,
looking like she had stepped out of a fashion magazine.
She looked at me with a cold,
calculating disdain.
"So,
the runaway has returned,"
she said,
her voice like velvet-covered glass.
"And with two little bargains in tow."
I felt a surge of pure hatred.
"They are not bargains,
Beatrice,"
I said,
my voice steady.
"They are your grandsons."
"Are they?"
she asked,
raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
"We’ll see what the blood test says.
But even if they are,
a bakery apartment is no place,
for a Foster heir."
Julian turned to his mother,
his eyes flashing.
"Mother,
leave.
This is between me and Audrey."
"It's about the family legacy,
Julian,"
she countered,
ignoring his tone.
"If these boys are yours,
they belong in the city.
They need proper schools,
proper connections,
and a mother who understands,
her place."
I realized then,
that Julian wasn't the only threat.
The entire Foster machine,
was geared toward possession.
They didn't want the boys for love,
they wanted them for the brand.
"They are never going with you,"
I said,
looking Beatrice in the eye.
"They are happy,
they are loved,
and they are mine."
I turned to Julian.
"If you let her anywhere near them,
I will disappear so well,
that not even your billions can find me.
Is that clear?"
Julian looked at me,
then at his mother.
"Go,
Mother,"
he said,
his voice cold and final.
"Now."
She huffed,
adjusting her fur coat,
and walked out,
leaving a trail of expensive perfume behind.
Julian looked back at me,
his shoulders sagging.
"She's right about one thing,"
he said quietly.
"I want them to have the best.
But I don't want to take them from you.
I just want...
I want us to be a family again."
"We can't be a family,"
I said,
feeling a sudden,
overwhelming exhaustion.
"The bridge is burned,
Julian.
There's nothing left to walk on."
"Then let's build a new one,"
he said,
stepping toward me.
I didn't move away this time.
I was too tired to run,
and too scared to stay.
"Give me a week,"
he pleaded.
"One week to show you that I've changed.
One week to get to know them.
If at the end of it,
you still want me gone,
I'll drop the custody suit.
I'll give you whatever you want."
It was a gamble,
a dangerous game with my heart.
But I looked at the man before me,
seeing a flicker of the Julian I had loved,
hidden beneath the billionaire's armor.
"One week,"
I whispered.
"But you stay at the hotel.
And you never,
May you like
ever,
bring your mother."
