Chapter 3 - The Shadow of Julian Vance
Vincent’s gaze shifted to Julian’s hand resting against my back, and the air around us dropped ten degrees. The air in the room grew thick with suffocating tension. I had seen Vincent ruin rival CEOs for looking at him the wrong way across a boardroom table, but the raw, murderous fury flaring in his eyes right now was unlike anything I had ever witnessed.
""Take your hand off my wife,"" Vincent said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register.
Julian didn't flinch. In fact, he chuckled softly, handing the plate of food to my assistant who had quietly hurried over to take Noah by the hand. ""Your ex-wife, Mr. Moretti. Legally, Claire has been an independent woman for three years. And as for Noah, he calls me 'Daddy Julian' because the little man doesn't have many father figures in his life thanks to your absence. Though I suppose when you're busy running half of Chicago’s shipping ports, checking on your family slipped your mind.""
""Julian, stop,"" I said quietly, touching Julian’s forearm. ""Take Noah to the VIP lounge. He shouldn't be around this.""
Julian looked down at me, his gaze softening with genuine warmth and respect. ""Of course, Claire. But don't let anyone intimidate you tonight. The judges are tallying the votes for the Grand Prix. Your designs are leading the board. You belong here.""
He scooped Noah into his arms, kissed the boy’s forehead, and walked toward the private elevators. Noah waved cheerfully over Julian’s shoulder, leaving Vincent standing frozen, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turned paper-white.
Sophia, seeing an opening, slithered back toward Vincent’s side. ""Vincent, darling, look at her! She’s parading around with Julian Vance, wearing dresses worth millions while claiming she’s the victim! She probably had this affair planned before she even left your house! She used your money, stole your son, and—""
""I said silence,"" Vincent turned on her with such terrifying stillness that Sophia actually choked on her next breath. ""If you speak another word against Claire, I will pull Moretti Capital’s funding from your father’s pharmaceutical firm by midnight. Do not test my patience tonight, Sophia. You're already living on borrowed time.""
Sophia’s mouth snapped shut. Terror flashed in her eyes as she realized the man she had pursued for five years was entirely serious. She backed away into the shadows of the gallery, disappearing among the nervous patrons.
Vincent turned back to me. All the murderous rage vanished, replaced by an agonizing vulnerability that felt completely foreign on a man who commanded billions.
""Claire,"" he murmured, his voice trembling. ""Please. Come outside with me. Just five minutes. I don't care about the press, I don't care about the competition. Look at me. Please.""
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I looked down at the stained silk of my dress, the phantom pain of my mother’s broken sapphire still aching in my chest. Three years of sleepless nights in cheap apartments, working twelve-hour shifts at a jeweler's bench while rocking Noah with my foot, flashed behind my eyes.
""You have five minutes, Vincent,"" I said coldly, walking past him toward the secluded terrace overlooking the Chicago skyline. ""And not a second more.""
