Chapter 4 - The Visitor from Chicago
Ten minutes later, the double doors of my office opened, and Julian was escorted in by my executive assistant.
He looked younger in person than he did in the office directory photos. Scarcely twenty-four, wearing an off-the-rack suit that was slightly too big for his thin frame, he looked like a college senior who had accidentally wandered into a Fortune 500 boardroom. In his arms, he clutched an infant car seat with a sleeping baby wrapped inside a blue blanket.
He stopped a few feet from my desk, looking around the sprawling, high-tech office with wide, terrified eyes.
“Ms... Ms. Vesper?” Julian stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “Or... Mrs. Whitmore? I honestly don't even know what your last name is anymore.”
“It’s Claire,” I said calmly, leaning back in my leather chair and resting my hands on the armrests. “And you can drop the corporate formalities, Julian. You don't work for my company anymore.”
Julian swallowed hard, shifting the car seat slightly. “Right. Yeah. I got fired on Monday. Along with everyone else in the Chicago office. The locks were changed by noon.”
“That tends to happen when a company goes bankrupt in forty-eight hours,” I replied smoothly. “Take a seat, Julian.”
He hesitated, then slowly lowered himself into one of the velvet guest chairs, setting the baby carrier carefully on the floor beside him. The baby stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh before falling back asleep.
“Look,” Julian began, running a trembling hand through his hair. “I know I’m the last person you ever wanted to see. I know what happened between me and Madison... and believe me, if I could turn back the clock six months, I would run the other direction as fast as my legs could carry me.”
“You slept with your boss’s assistant while knowing she was carrying another man’s child into a wealthy household,” I noted, my tone completely devoid of emotion. “That’s not just a lapse in judgment, Julian. That’s staggering stupidity.”
Julian flinched as if he’d been struck. “I know! She told me... she told me Ryan was a neglectful husband, that they were getting a divorce anyway, and that she needed financial security for the baby. I was an idiot. I thought... I thought I was being a white knight.”
“You were being played,” I corrected gently. “Madison wanted a bank account with a wedding ring, just like Ryan wanted a trophy family to boost his public image. You two were reading from the exact same playbook.”
Julian stared down at his hands, his shoulders sagging under the weight of a reality he was far too young to manage. “And now? Now I’m twenty-four, living back in my parents' basement in a northwest suburb, working part-time at a marketing agency for forty grand a year, and facing a custody battle with a woman I don't even love anymore.”
He looked up, meeting my eyes with a desperate, pleading expression.
“I heard you bought up all of Ryan’s corporate liabilities,” Julian said quietly. “Does that mean... am I going to be sued for corporate espionage or something? Did Madison drag me into some kind of legal trap?”
I studied him for a long moment. He wasn't a mastermind villain like Ryan or a venomous social climber like Patricia and Madison. He was just a naive kid who had allowed his ego and hormones to drag him into deep waters he had no business swimming in.
“No, Julian,” I said, standing up and walking slowly toward the floor-to-ceiling window. “You’re not going to be sued. You’re small fish in a very large pond. Your punishment is much worse than anything my legal team could invent.”
Julian looked up, confused. “My punishment?”
“You get to live the life you earned,” I said, turning to look back at him. “You get to raise a child you weren't ready for, with a woman who doesn't love you, on a salary that won't cover rent in a decent neighborhood. That isn't a legal sentence, Julian. That’s just consequence.”
He swallowed hard, the last remnants of his youthful arrogance entirely evaporating. He stood up, picked up the baby carrier, and turned toward the door.
“Thank you, Claire,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “For... for not destroying me completely.”
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“Next time, Julian,” I said as he reached the door, “check the foundation before you try to build a life on someone else’s property.”
The heavy doors clicked shut, leaving me alone once again in the quiet expanse of my Manhattan penthouse.
