Ch. 86..90: My Husband Wants An Open Marriage Chapter 86-90

CHAPTER 087: Kitten

It's been a week since I told Luke the news, and true to his word, I've been imprisoned in his house-well, partial imprisonment. He drives me to work every morning and picks me up every evening. On the day of my dating scan, I'd had to steal his keys while he was in the shower. That was the closest I've gotten to freedom.

I feel like my limbs are becoming useless outside of work, and it's making me crazy.

It's Saturday, and I'm still lazing about in bed.

"Julie," Luke calls, "are you awake?"

He knows I'm awake, but he also knows that he'd need a crowbar to separate me from this bed before 6 a.m.

"Go away," I say, covering my head with a pillow.

The pillow over my head muffles Luke's voice, but I still hear every smug syllable.

"Come on,

Kitten. We have a busy day today."

. I freeze. The pillow slides off just enough to uncover one eye.

"Did you just call me Kitten?"

"Did I?" He's leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

"I think you did."

"Great. It got you awake, didn't it?" He strides over, grabs my hands, and tugs me up. "Now, go prepare. I made reservations for seafood."

I groan, letting my head loll back dramatically, "Can't I have seafood in bed?"

"You need to exercise your body more." He plants a kiss on my forehead before delivering a soft slap to my butt. "Go get ready."

"Aww," I say, flipping him off as I shuffle toward the bathroom.

"Yeah, very mature," he says, laughing behind me.

When I emerge dressed, he's waiting by the door with his keys twirling around his finger. His grin is boyish, contagious, and slightly suspicious.

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"Let's go," he says.

The car ride starts off uneventful. Luke hums along to a soft rock station while I scroll through my phone, feeling the vibrations of the road beneath us. But then something catches my eye. The road outside is getting familiar. Too familiar.

I sit up straighter, watching as the trees thin and the signs begin to shift. And then, there it is: 'Airport,' in bright, bold letters.

I turn to Luke, narrowing my eyes. "I thought you said we were getting seafood. Why are we at the airport?"

He doesn't even glance at me. "You ask a lot of questions."

"Being quiet is how you get kidnapped."

"I've never been unclear about my intention to kidnap you. I don't know why that's an issue now."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

But my laughter dies as we pull into the private terminal. Luke steers the car into a designated parking area where a staff member approaches immediately, all smiles and professional politeness. "Good morning, Sir, Ma'am. Welcome. May I assist you with your luggage?"

Luggage? I blink, watching as Luke pops open the trunk. Two suitcases sit there, neatly packed.

I fold my arms. "You packed?"

"Yep."

""For what, exactly?"

"To get seafood."

I follow him as the staff leads us toward the terminal, my curiosity boiling over. Where are we going?"

"To get seafood," he repeats, grinning.

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

((

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CHAPTER 087 Kitten

"Anything more than we're getting seafood? No."

I shake my head, smiling despite myself. He's enjoying this way too much. We walk through the private terminal, a world of luxury far from the chaos of commercial travel. Polished marble floors, and the air smells faintly of pine and cinnamon. The decorations are extravagant but tasteful: poinsettias line the hallways, garlands drape elegantly from the ceiling, and holiday music plays softly in the background.

Security is swift but thorough, and soon we're escorted onto the tarmac where a private jet waits. The words Couture Private Air are emblazoned on its side.

The moment we step on board, a flight attendant greets us with a warm smile. "Good morning, Mr. Martinez, Ms. Jenkins. Welcome aboard."

I'm handed a glass of orange juice without asking, and Luke gets coffee. The cabin is stunning-plush leather seats, soft ambient lighting, and windows framed with more garlands.

Luke settles into one of the wide, reclining seats, patting the one next to him. "Sit."

I lower myself into the seat, still wary. "You're really not going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope." He grins, looking far too pleased with himself.

The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom. "Good morning, Mr. Martinez and Ms. Jenkins. We'll be taking off shortly. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. Our estimated arrival time is just under three hours."

Three hours? "I thought you said we were getting seafood?"

Luke sips his coffee nonchalantly. "Oh, we are. For lunch."

I stare at him, a million questions crowding my mind, but I decide not to ask any. This is Luke. If he's gone to this much trouble, I might as well let him have his fun.

The engines roar to life, and the plane begins to taxi down the runway. I glance at Luke, who's watching me with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You might want to order breakfast after we take off," he says. "We've got a long day ahead, Kitten."

CHAPTER 087: Kitten

At some point after breakfast, I must have passed out on the plane because when I wake up, the cabin is bathed in soft light, and I feel the gentle descent of the jet. My head is resting against Luke's shoulder, and his fingers are lazily drawing circles on my arm.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," he says.

I blink, disoriented, and glance out the window. The ocean gleams below us, an endless expanse of turquoise shimmering under the bright sun. We're gliding down toward a strip of pristine white sand, dotted with swaying palm trees. "Where are we?" I ask.

"Nassau," Luke says.

"Nassau? As in... the Bahamas?"

He smirks. "That's the one."

I sit

up abruptly, almost knocking into his shoulder. "Wait. We're in the Bahamas?"

"We are."

"You brought me to the Bahamas... for lunch?"

He shrugs. "Was it a bad idea? Should I tell the pilot to turn around?"

I gape at him, then laugh-loud, wild. "This is crazy."

"You're welcome," he says.

I grab his collar, pulling him close in a fierce hug. "Oh, Luke. That's so sweet. I've always wanted to visit. It's-" I pull back, looking out the window again, unable to believe it. "It's so beautiful."

"It is," he says, but his eyes aren't on the view. They're on me.

I flush under his gaze and clear my throat. "So... lunch?"

He leans back, resting his head against the seat. "Lunch."

The plane touches down.

Moments later, we're descending the stairs into the blazing sunlight. The air smells of salt and hibiscus, rich and intoxicating.

At the bottom of the stairs, a black Escalade awaits. The driver stands beside it,

his

CHAPTER 087: Kitten

hands clasped in front of him. His dark sunglasses reflect the sky.

Luke opens the door for me, guiding me into the cool, luxurious interior.

I settle in, my eyes glued to the window as we pull away. The streets of Nassau unfold before me in a vibrant display. Brightly colored buildings-pink, yellow, turquoise. The energy is infectious: vendors call out to passersby, selling fresh coconuts and handmade trinkets; children laugh and chase each other in the streets; steel drums play a rhythmic melody in the background.

It's like stepping into a dream.

The driver clears his throat, his eyes meeting mine through the rearview mirror." Good afternoon, folks. I'm Daniel, your tour guide for today. Mr. Martínez told me it's a special trip, so I'm here to make sure you see the best Nassau has to offer."

I lean forward, curious. "What's the best part of Nassau?"

Daniel smiles. "Depends on what you're looking for. The history, the beaches, the food... or maybe something a little more adventurous?"

Luke's hand tightens on my knee. "We'll take all of it."

"You're in for a treat then."

The drive continues with Daniel pointing out landmarks and sharing stories about the island's history. His voice is animated, and I find myself hanging onto every word.

We arrive at a private beach resort, the gates opening to reveal a winding path lined with palm trees. The ocean sparkles in the distance, and the soft sound of waves fills the air. Daniel parks near a secluded beach home, stepping out to open our doors. "This is where I lea you two," says, smiling. "I'I waiting outside."

As we step inside the beach home, I can't help but gasp. The interior is stunning-floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the ocean, soft white linens draped over plush furniture, and the scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air.

"It's not Christmas yet, and I'm already getting presents," I tease, spinning around to take it all in.

Luke catches me mid-spin, pulling me into his arms. "Easy there."

I laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I love it."

He kisses me back, slower this time, his hands sliding down my back. After a

CHAPTER 087: Kitten

moment, he pulls away, his forehead resting against mine. "As much as I find your excitement irresistible, we have somewhere to be. And Daniel's waiting."

I groan. "Fine."

move to the bags near the door. "Which one's mine?"

Luke rolls his eyes. "The pink one."

unzip it. "What kind of outfit?"

"Red carpet," he replies, pulling out a suit from his own bag.

I sift through the dresses-silk, chiffon, lace-all brand new and undeniably expensive.

"You've got taste," I say, holding up a stunning emerald green dress.

"Thank you."

"And you know my size," I add.

"Clothes come with labels, you know?"

We dress quickly, and when we're ready, Daniel leads us to a closed part of the resort. He pauses at a grand set of double doors. "Ready?"

We both nod.

Daniel pushes the doors open, revealing a beautifully decorated room with a single table set for two. Candles flicker softly, their light dancing across the room.

I can barely breathe. It's amazing.

Daniel asks, "How do you find the place?"

""It's... perfect."

"How about the screen?" he asks.

I blink. "What screen?"

He points up, and the moment I look, bold letters illuminate the entire wall.

'KITTEN, WILL YOU MARRY ME?'

I turn around, my heart pounding. Luke is on one knee, holding out a ring.

v

CHAPTER 088: Seafood

My mouth is wide open as I stare at Luke.

This isn't happening.

I blink, but the scene remains. Luke, calm, down on one knee, looking up at me with that maddeningly confident smile-except now there's something else. Something raw. Emotion.

I clutch my chest, feeling my heart slamming against my ribcage. My throat is dry, my knees trembling.

I finally find my voice. "Luke..."

"Julie," he says. "There was a time I thought love wasn't meant for me. And then you came along and ruined everything. You weren't part of my plan. You were this unpredictable hurricane of sarcasm, laughter, and stubbornness. Every time I thought I had you figured out, you flipped the script. And somehow, amidst all the chaos, I found someone I can't live without."

I press my hand to my mouth, tears welling in my eyes. My knees feel weak, and I'm certain I'm going to collapse.

"I love how you laugh too loud at jokes," he continues. "I love how you argue with me even when you know I'm right-especially when you know I'm right. I love how you're fierce, loyal, and just the right amount of insane to keep me on my toes. You make me want to be better, even when I don't think I can be. You make everything better."

I sniff, holding back the flood threatening to break free.

"So, here I am, on my knee, in a ridiculously beautiful place I hope you'll never forget, asking you to let me be the lucky guy who gets to argue with you for the rest of our lives. Julie... will you marry me?"

My breath catches. My hand trembles as I lower it from my mouth, trying to form words, but they catch in my throat. I'm not even sure I'm breathing anymore. I glance sideways, and I catch Daniel-the tour guide-grinning like a fool, his phone recording the whole thing. Without thinking, I sink to my knees, cupping Luke's face and kissing him fiercely. His lips are warm, soft, and taste faintly of salt from the ocean air. For a moment, it's just us-no ring, no recording, just the two of us wrapped in this whirlwind.

He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "Is that a yes?"

I laugh. "You brought me all the way to the Bahamas to propose?"

CHAPTER 088: Seafood

"Seemed like a good idea at the time.'

"You could've just done it on the bed this morning," I tease, wiping at my tears with a shaky hand.

"Yeah, but when we're old and greyish, will you remember it?"

"I would."

"You say that now..."

"No one in my family has suffered dementia."

"There's always a first," he says, his grin widening.

I laugh, smacking his chest lightly. "You're impossible."

"Also, I figured that if you said no," he says, "I can just leave you here in the Bahamas."

"Stop talking and put the ring on my finger, Luke. I'm starving, and you promised me seafood."

He chuckles, sliding the ring onto my finger with care, his eyes never leaving mine. The diamond sparkles brilliantly, catching the light, but all I can see is him. "There," he murmurs. "Perfect fit."

I stare at my hand, my heart swelling until I feel like I might burst. Then I throw around his neck again, squeezing him.

my arms

He lifts me effortlessly, my feet dangling as I cling to him. "God, I love you," I whisper, my voice cracking.

"I love you more," he says, his breath warm against my ear.

A loud throat-clearing breaks the bubble around us. Daniel. He's standing a few feet away,

a knowing smile plastered across his face. "Congratulations, you two."

We break apart, laughing awkwardly. "Thank you," we both say.

Luke keeps his arm around me, pulling me into his side. "We'll eat now," he says. "My fiancée eats for two."

I elbow him.

Daniel smirks. "I'll alert the kitchen," he says, turning on his heel and disappearing with a quiet chuckle.

Luke turns back to me. "Shall we?"

He leads me to the table, pulling out my chair. M'lady."

CHAPTER 088: Seafood

I roll my eyes, but my heart feels like it might burst.

I sit down, smoothing my dress over my lap, watching as he takes the seat across from me. The table is elegant yet intimate, set with white linens, gleaming silverware, and a single candle flickering between us. "You went all out," I say, glancing around.

"Only the best for you."

Before I can respond, servers begin arriving, placing dishes in front of us one by one. The aromas are intoxicating-fresh seafood, herbs, citrus, butter. My stomach growls loudly, and Luke laughs.

"See? You do eat for two. The other human's happy."

I glare at him but can't help smiling. "Shut up."

We dig in, the conversation flowing as easily as the juice being poured into our glasses.

"This fish is incredible," I say, savoring a bite of perfectly grilled grouper.

"Fresh from the ocean," Luke replies.

"Did you plan that too?"

"Of course. I told the fishermen exactly what to catch and when."

I shake my head.

We continue eating, swapping stories, and teasing each other, the atmosphere light and carefree. Every now and then, I catch Luke staring at me, his expression soft, as if he's memorizing every detail-every laugh, every word, every glance. It's disarming, this level of intensity. It makes my heart flutter in a way that's both thrilling and terrifying.

"What?" I ask, setting my fork down and wiping my mouth.

He leans back in his chair, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

"Lucky? You brought me all the way to the Bahamas, fed me enough to explode, and gave me a diamond ring. I'd say I'm the lucky one.

Before he can respond, the servers return, carrying plates of dessert. A decadent chocolate mousse with a swirl of whipped cream garnished with fresh berries is placed in front of me.

I glance at Luke. "You trying to fatten me up?"

He laughs. "Just making sure you're well fed. Happy fiancées need chocolate."

I take a bite, savoring the rich, velvety texture. Mmm. Okay, I admit it. This might be the

CHAPTER 088: Seafood

best thing I've ever tasted."

"Better than my proposal?"

I pretend to think about it, tapping my fork against my lip, "It's close"

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Close?"

"Very close," I tease, taking another bite.

We continue eating. By the time dessert is nearly gone, I start to feel... off. My stomach churns, and I place a hand over it, trying to ease the discomfort.

"I think I'm going to..." I trail off, my eyes widening

"Julie?" Luke sits up, concerned.

Before I can warn him, it happens. I lurch forward, the chocolate mousse making an unfortunate reappearance all over my plate.

"Oh my God," I groan, mortified.

Luke freezes for a second, his eyes wide with shock. Then, instead of panicking, he throws his head back and laughs-a deep, uncontrollable belly laugh.

I gape at him. "You're laughing? I just threw up on my dessert, and you're laughing?"

He's laughing so hard he can barely speak. "I'm sorry... it's just... you were so smug about it being the best thing ever..."

Despite my humiliation, I can't help but see the humor. I start laughing too, covering my face with my hands. "This is the worst proposal dinner ever."

He wipes his eyes, still chuckling, "Correction: this is the most memorable proposal dinner ever."

I shake my head, tears of laughter streaming down my face.

Luke reaches across the table, taking my hand. "And for the record, vomit or not, I'm still the luckiest guy in the world."

I squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us. This is real. Messy, imperfect, and completely us. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I lean back in my chair, wiping my mouth with a napkin and trying to catch my breath from laughing.

"So... back to reality tomorrow?" I say.

"We can stay."

"Stay? I've got a job to get back to."

CHAPTER 1898 Seafood

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair with an eaty confidance that someture infitas at charms me at the same time, "You don't need You got a good amount from the larges You could relax for once"

I narrow my eyes. "Doesn't mean I'm going to sit at home playing loncesita chile you prance around, CEO-ing"

"Wouldn't be so bad," he muses, "You and outen Kids, running around tasters deg pies, or whatever it is housentres do "

I snort. "Ten kids? You've lost your dann mind

He grins. "I'm just saying, We'd make cate Kids"

I pick up a piece of dessert from the table and and it at him. It hits him squace in the crest before bouncing onto his lap.

He bursts out laughing "You missed my head

"Next time, I won't," I threaten, though I'm atexy laughing again

God, I'm happy. Stupidly, deffously happy. And that scares me. I'm so happy that I'm terrified it'll all come crashing down. The way things have in the past

My mind drifts back to everything I've been through. The betrayall the headbook The

* divorce that left me reefing And yet here I am, sitting across from a man wire just made me

laugh harder than I have in years life dier paked on my dinner plate

Loke notices the shift in my expression "Hey, Where'd you go"

"Nowhere. Just thinking"

About what?

"About how happy I am," I admit "It's kind of terhifing"

He studies me for a long moment, then stands walking around the table to pull my dear out. I look up at him, confused.

"Come on," he says, holding out his hand,

I hesitate. "Where are we going?"

"Just trust me?

I take his hand, letting him lead me out onto the private beach. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is soothing, grounding

Vie walk in silence for a while, our feet sinking into the cool sand. Loke finally stops, turning to face me.

CHAPTER 088 Seafood

-25 BONDS

"No matter what happens, I'm here," he says. You can trust that."

For the first time in a long while, I let go of the fear. I let myself believe him. Maybe things don't have to fall apart. Maybe this is my new reality-a messy, imperfect love that's stronger because of everything we've been through. He leans down to kiss me.

CHAPTER 089: No One Hates A Dying Man -Ryan O'Brien~~

Ryan's palms are sweaty, and his throat feels tight as he scans the room. The walls are a soft, muted green, the kind of calming color that's supposed to make you feel relaxed, but all it does is make him itch. There's a framed print of a serene forest landscape on the wall opposite him and a smaller, abstract painting that looks like a five-year-old's tantrum on canvas. He tells himself he's focusing on the art because he finds it adorable in a ridiculous way, but he knows the truth. He's avoiding the therapist's face. Because he shouldn't be here.

This is a waste of time, he thinks, shifting in his seat. His fingers tap an erratic rhythm on his knee, a habit he picked up since everything went to hell. Why does he need to talk to a shrink? His mother insisted, though. Said he was spiraling. Said he wasn't himself anymore. So, here he is.

"Ryan."

The voice is calm, measured. He finally glances at the man sitting across from him. Dr. Matthew Grant, mid-forties, clean-shaven, with wire-rimmed glasses that make him look more like a college professor than a therapist. His office smells faintly of sandalwood, and there's a small water fountain in the corner, its gentle trickling noise grating on Ryan's

nerves.

ink?'

"Your mother thought it might help to talk," Dr. Grant says. "What do you think?"

Ryan shrugs, staring at a spot on the carpet. "I think my mother's a meddler. Always has been."

Dr. Grant nods as if he's heard this a thousand times before. "So, you're here for her, not for yourself?"

"I'm here because she wouldn't stop nagging. She thinks I'm falling apart. But I'm fine."

"Are you? You don't seem fine."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It's just an observation," Dr. Grant says calmly. "You're tapping your knee like it owes you money, and you haven't made eye contact since you walked in. That doesn't scream' fine' to me.

Ryan exhales, leaning back in his chair. "Look, I don't need a lecture."

"I'm not here to lecture. I'm here to listen."

Silence stretches between them. The damn water fountain keeps gurgling, and Ryan's

CHAPTER 089: No One Hates A Dying Man

fingers keep tapping. He hates this. He hates himself right now. But something in Dr. Grant's steady gaze makes him snap.

"My wife left me." The words spill out before he can stop them. "She left me for another man."

Dr. Grant doesn't react. He just nods, waiting.

"I can't... I can't seem to function anymore," Ryan admits. "It's like... the only thing keeping me going is the baby in my girlfriend's womb."

The room falls silent. Ryan immediately regrets saying it. He shifts in his seat as Dr. Grant tilts his head.

"You mentioned a girlfriend. You're in a relationship now?"

Ryan grimaces. "Not exactly. It's complicated.

"Complicated how?"

He hesitates. "Emily. My secretary. She's pregnant."

"How did that happen?"

Ryan chuckles. "Is that a trick question?"

"No. I'm asking how things progressed to that point."

Ryan rubs the back of his neck. "Julie-my wife and I... we agreed to an open marriage. It was supposed to fix things, you know? She was distant, and I thought... maybe we needed something new. Something different. But the second I brought Emily home, Julie lost her mind. She went ballistic."

Dr. Grant leans forward. "What did you expect her reaction to be?"

"I expected her to be fine with it. We agreed to this. She's always wanted a baby, and I thought..." He trails off, rubbing his temples. "I thought it'd be a way for us to have what she wanted."

"A baby."

"Yeah," Ryan says. "I... I thought maybe Emily's baby could be ours. I don't know why she freaked out."

Dr. Grant is silent for a moment, then asks, "How do you think Julie felt when you brought Emily home?"

Ryan glares at him. "How am I supposed to know? She's the one who agreed to the open marriage!"

"But did she agree to you bringing someone into your home? Into your personal life?"

Ryan opens his mouth, then closes it. His fingers tap faster. "I don't know. Maybe not. But what was I supposed to do? We were falling apart. I was trying to fix it."

Dr. Grant's voice remains calm. "By involving fomeone else?"

"I was desperate," Ryan snaps. "Julie wasn't talking to me. She was shutting me out. I thought this was what she wanted. I thought... His voice falters.

"You thought bringing another woman into your marriage would save it?"

Ryan's hands clench into fists. "I thought... I thought it would make her happy. She wanted a kid. I didn't know how else to give her that."

Dr. Grant watches him. "Ryan, how do you think Julie felt when Emily became pregnant?"

Ryan shakes his head, his voice rising. "Everyone keeps thinking they know anything about my life with Julie! They don't! My mother, my friends, and now you. You don't know what it was like. You weren't there. You didn't see how distant she was, how she stopped looking at me, how she..." He stands abruptly, pacing. "I tried. Damn it, I tried. But nothing was good enough for her."" "And do you think Julie felt the same way?"

Ryan stops pacing, breathing heavily. His fists unclench, and for a moment, he looks utterly lost. "I don't know." His voice is hoarse, broken. "I don't know what she felt anymore."

He grabs his coat, eyes flashing with anger and pain.

"I'm done here," he says.

Without waiting for a response, he storms out, leaving the door swinging behind him. Fuck anyone who tries to pin this on him.

"You want to go bald?" The barber squints at Ryan through the mirror. "Like, completely bald? Or are we talking a buzz cut?" "Bald," Ryan repeats. "All of it. Gone."

The barber, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair named Joe, sets down his clipper and crosses his arms. "You got some sort of condition I need to know about? Cancer? Alopecia?"

"No," Ryan says. "I'm fine. I don't need a pity session. Just shave my head."

Joe hesitates, then shrugs. "It's your hair, man, But you've got great hair. Thick. Full. You sure you wanna waste it?"

Ryan's fingers twitch against the armrest of the barber chair. "I'm sure. I need to look the

CHAPTER 089 No One Hates A Dying Man

part."

Joe picks up the clipper again but pauses. "The part of what?"

"A dying man."

"Excuse me?"

"No one hates a dying man," Ryan mutters, more to himself than Joe. His mind drifts, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. "Julie won't. She'll see me, and she'll feel something again. Pity, guilt... anything. It doesn't matter. I just need to crack open that door." Joe gives him a long, uneasy look. "Look, buddy, you sure you don't wanna talk to someone? This squnds..."

"I'm fine." Ryan's tone is sharp, final. "Just do it."

Joe shakes his head, muttering something about 'people losing their damn minds,' but turns the clipper on. The buzz fills the room, loud and incessant, drowning out everything else.

As the first clump of hair falls to the floor, Ryan stares straight ahead, but his mind is back in Dr. Grant's office.

'How do you think Julie felt when you brought Emily home?'

Ryan clenches his teeth. Who the hell did Dr. Grant think he was? Sitting there,.acting like he knew anything about his life.

Julie left because of that snake, Lucas Martinez. Ryan's fists tighten on the armrests. Lucas charmed his way into her life, wormed his way into her heart. They'd been doing fine until he showed up.

The clipper continues its relentless hum, and more hair tumbles down. His scalp starts to feel the cool bite of the air, and with it, a strange sense of release. Like he's shedding something more than hair. Something heavier.

He remembers Julie's face the last time they spoke. That look in her eyes-she was happy. Happy she was leaving him. She didn't even give him a chance to explain. To make her see that everything he did, he did for them. For their future. "Breathe through it," Joe says, as if sensing Ryan's tension.

Ryan inhales, forcing himself to relax. When Joe finally steps back, Ryan barely recognizes the man in the mirror. His sharp cheekbones, his piercing eyes. The vulnerability of his bare scalp. He runs a hand over it, the sensation foreign and raw.

Joe tilts his head, studying Ryan like he's some abstract art piece. "Well, you definitely look different. Maybe even a little badass. But are you sure this will make her come back?"

CHAPTER 099 No One Hates A Dying Man

Ryan stands, tossing a few bills onto the counter. "We'll see."

He strides out before Joe can respond, the cool air biting at his freshly exposed scalp. He heads straight for his car, his mind on one thing

Julie.

When Ryan gets to Illusionaire, the building looms over him, intimidating in its sleekness.

He takes a deep breath and walks in, navigating his way to Julie's office.

Susan, Julie's secretary, is on the phone, her manicured nails tapping against the keyboard. She looks up. "Mr. O'Brien?"

"I need to see Julie," he says.

Susan hesitates, then picks up her phone. "Let me check if she's available.

11

He waits, his pulse thrumming in his ears. He doesn't blink, doesn't move. He just stands there, willing this moment to go his way.

Susan hangs up. "She'll see you."

Ryan doesn't thank her. He strides past the desk, his footsteps echoing down the hall. When he reaches Julie's office, he pauses for half a second, then pushes the door open. Julie is behind her desk, her hands poised over her keyboard. When she looks up, her eyes widen. "Ryan?"

He smiles, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of emotion. He expects shock, maybe anger. Instead, she stares at his shaved head, her brows knitting together in concern. "You shaved your head?"

"New look," he says, stepping inside. "Figured I'd do it myself before the cancer does it for

me."

She hesitates. "It's... surprising."

He takes a step closer, ready to launch into his rehearsed speech, but then he sees it. Her

hand.

A big diamond glints on her left ring finger, catching the light.

His smile vanishes. "What the hell is that?"

CHAPTER 099: Lying Is Something People Do CHAPTER 090: Lying Is Something People Do

Julie follows his gaze to her hand. "It's a ring, Ryan."

"Don't play dumb with me. You're engaged?"

"Yes."

"To him? Lucas?" His voice rises, disbelief and fury mixing in his chest.

"Yes," she repeats.

Ryan stares at her, his mind reeling. He came here expecting to find her waiting, miserable without him. Instead, she's wearing another man's ring.

Ryan's eyes are glued to the ring, that massive, glittering diamond mocking him with every glint of light it catches. His throat tightens. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. He can feel his pulse throbbing in his temples.

"How could you do this?" he says. "You let that man brainwash you. You think he's any better than me? His first wife left him, Julie. That's a pretty damn telling sign, don't you think? What are you going to do when it gets rough? Run to another man?"

Julie crosses her arms, leaning back against her desk. "Even when you're dying, you're still an arrogant piece of shit. Do you have any business with me today, Mr. O'Brien, or did you just come here to give me another lecture? Because I have a lot of work to do." Ryan flinches at the way she addresses him. So formal. So distant. Like they didn't share a bed, a life, dreams. "I was getting the baby for us, Julie," he says. "When Emily has the baby, who's going to take care of it? Who's going to be its parent?" "Emily and you, I suppose."

"No," Ryan snaps. "I got the baby for you."

"Ryan, I don't want your baby. I've got mine."

He stares at her, his mind scrambling to process what she just said. "You're... pregnant?"

"I am."

"That can't be," he whispers, shaking his head as if denying it will make it less real.

""It is," she says.

The room seems to tilt around him. He stumbles back a step, his hands gripping the edge of the chair for support.

"Julie..." His voice cracks. "We've all made mistakes. It's alright. We can raise the babies

together-your baby, Emily's baby. It doesn't matter. We'll finally have children, Julie. The family we always wanted.".

CHAPTER 090: Lying is Someiling People Do

Julie stares at him, her eyes cold and unyielding. For a long moment, she says nothing. Then she says, "I've tried to be the bigger person. To let fate take its course. But you keep pushing me, Ryan. You keep pushing me into a corner."

"As long as it makes you see me," he pleads, stepping closer.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't give a fuck about you anymore, Ryan?" Her voice rises. "The babies aren't yours. Mine, Emily's. None of them are yours. You made me feel like shit for not having a child, made me feel like less of a woman. I did everything -everything-to make it work. But you were the problem all along!"

Ryan freezes. "What did you say?"

"I said a lot of things, Ryan."

"No. About Emily's baby."

She crosses her arms. "It's not yours. If I were a bad person, I'd let her keep running her little con on you. But even you deserve to know the truth before you die."

Ryan feels the floor drop out from beneath him. "She lied to me?"

Julie shrugs. "Hate to break it to you, but lying is something people do."

His head spins. His legs feel weak. He stumbles towards the door, his hand trembling as he grabs the handle.

"Ryan," Julie calls out behind him.

He pauses, his back to her.

"I wish you good luck on your chemo."

He turns his head slightly. "I'm not dying."

"What?"

"I lied," he says. "Just as you said, lying is something people do.'

He walks out, leaving Julie sitting there, her eyes wide with shock.

"Can't you go any faster?" Ryan barks, his fingers drumming against the leather seat.

Justin, his chauffeur, meets Ryan's glare in the rearview mirror. "We're already pushing the speed limit, sir."

"I don't give a damn about the speed limit. I said faster."

Justin sighs, the sound heavy with resignation, and presses the accelerator. The engine growls, and the car shoots forward, weaving through traffic.

CHAPTER 090 tying is netfang People Do

Ryan barely notices. His mind is elsewhere.

'It's not yours. She lied to you.'

Julie has to be wrong. She's bitter, vindictive, hell-bent on revenge. She wants to hurt him, destroy him. That's all this is a desperate, venomous lie designed to make him doubt everything. Emily wouldn't... She couldn't... But the seed of doubt is planted, its roots coiling tighter around his sanity with every passing second.

The building of Paragon Jewels looms ahead.

Ryan doesn't wait for the car to fully stop. He flings the door open and steps out.

Karen, the ever-cheerful receptionist, lifts her head from her desk, her bright smile faltering. "Mr. O'Brien! Welcome back. Your mother mentioned you were

"1

He cuts past her without a glance, his pace relentless. His long strides carry him to the elevator bank, and he slams the button with unnecessary force.

Karen's voice trails after him. "Mr. O'Brien, your mother asked that

you-

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The elevator arrives with a soft ding, mercifully cutting off her words. Ryan steps inside, jabbing the button for the top floor. His reflection stares back at him from the polished metal walls-face hard, eyes blazing. He doesn't recognize the man staring back. This is someone else. Someone pushed to the edge.

The elevator hums its way up. When the doors finally part, he steps out onto the executive floor, every muscle coiled tight.

Emily sits at her desk outside his office, blonde hair pulled into a neat bun, fingers dancing across her keyboard. At the sound of his footsteps, she looks up, her blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Ryan? You shaved your head?"

He closes the distance in three strides, yanking her from her chair.

"Did you lie to me about the baby?" His voice is low, trembling with rage.

Emily gasps, struggling against him. "What? Ryan, let me go right now! You're hurting me!"

He tightens his grip, his knuckles white. "You tried to pass off another man's child as mine."

"So what if I did? That's what you wanted, wasn't it? A baby? I got you one."

He can't believe this. "You bitch," he hisses, pushing her some steps backwards and backing her up against the wall.

CHAPTER 090, Lying la Something People Do

"Let me go, Ryan! You're scaring me!"

"You used me! You made me believe"

"Let her go, Ryan."

The command stops him cold. Ryan turns, his chest heaving, to find his mother standing in her office doorway. Her gaze is icy.

"Let her go. Right. Now."

"The baby isn't mine," Ryan says. "She lied."

Adeline's gaze remains steely. "I said, let her go."

His hands tremble as he releases Emily with a shove. She crumples to the floor, sobbing.

"You're fired," Ryan says. "Pack your things and get the hell out. Don't bother coming home for your stuff. I'll burn them."

"You'll pay for this," Emily spits. "I'll bleed you dry for daring to put your hands on me.

Ryan's smile is bitter, devoid of warmth. "I'd like to see you try."

Emily wipes her tears, her hands trembling, and throws one last venomous glare at him before storming out, her heels clicking furiously against the marble. The silence that follows is deafening.

Adeline steps forward, her eyes narrowing. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"What was I thinking? I was thinking I've been played, and I'm done with it."

"

"You've lost control. You're dragging this company's name through the mud."

Ryan whirls around, his finger jabbing the air. "Your company? Your name? What about me, Mom? That baby isn't mine! Do you even care?"

"What I care about is salvaging our reputation. Leave. Now. Or you'll be fucking fired too."

Ryan's jaw tightens, his gaze locked on hers for a tense, silent moment. Then, without another word, he turns and strides toward the elevator. Before the doors close, he says, "You don't love me. You never did."