The first year Julian transferred to headquarters, he video-called me every night until midnight. The second year, it dropped to once a week. The third year, the calls stopped. He switched to texts. I told myself I understood. Then one day, he sent me a message. "Mom wants you to come back. She says there's something to discuss." I took time off work and flew out. Eleanor was sitting in the living room. A woman I'd never seen before stood beside her. "Sienna, honey, I'm not asking you two to divorce. I just want you to be gracious about this. Give Vivienne a proper place in this family." "She's been by Julian's side at headquarters all this time. You've seen it yourself — his numbers have never been better." I looked at the woman. She lowered her head and said softly: "I'm already pregnant. My baby needs a father." Eleanor picked up where she left off. "You haven't given us a single child in three years. Something's got to be wrong with you. I've found a top specialist — you should start seeing him." I sat on the sofa and said nothing. Then I stood up, picked up my bag, and walked to the door. I had just stepped outside when Julian's car pulled up. He got out and saw me. He froze. The passenger door swung open. A little boy, no older than two, reached out his arms and called out: "Daddy, up." Two years old. Nine months of pregnancy, plus two years. That put it right at the start of his first year at headquarters. The man who used to call me every night until midnight. Who once ordered me food delivery at two in the morning because I mentioned I forgot dinner. Who still flew back every few months, just long enough to make me feel like he was still mine. That man had gotten another woman pregnant. Julian clearly hadn't expected me to walk out. His hand hung in the air, frozen. He'd forgotten to close the car door. The little boy in the passenger seat kept squirming, calling out for his daddy in that soft, babbling voice. Vivienne came rushing out of the house and grabbed my arm. "Don't blame Julian. This is all my fault." "I'd had too much to drink that night. I wouldn't let him go. He never stopped loving you." I shook her off and fixed my eyes on Julian. Julian finally snapped out of it. He crossed to me quickly and stepped in front of Vivienne. "Sienna, let me explain." I looked at his face — that face I knew so well — and felt my stomach turn. "Explain what?" "Explain how you spent your days in her bed and your nights calling me your wife?" Julian went pale. He dropped his voice, and something close to pleading crept into it. "Don't make a scene. Mom's still inside watching." I almost laughed. So in his mind, calling out his lies made me the problem. Eleanor had followed us out by then, peeling a piece of fruit in her hands. "Sienna, men stray. It happens. That's just how it is." "Besides, Vivienne's already given him a son, and there's another one on the way." "You couldn't even give him one child in three years. You can't expect the Harlow name to die with you." I turned to Eleanor. "I can't give you a child?" "Julian, did you forget to mention that you drank yourself sick chasing deals, and I spent months caring for you around the clock until my own hormones crashed?" Julian looked away. He couldn't meet my eyes. Vivienne's eyes filled with tears on cue. She shrank behind Julian. "I know you're hurting." "I don't need a name on paper. I just want to be near Julian." "When the baby comes, you can be its mother. I'll be the nanny." How noble. How selfless. Julian heard those words and the guilt in his eyes turned to tenderness in an instant. He put his arm around Vivienne's shoulders. When he looked back at me, his voice had hardened. "Sienna, Vivienne has already given up this much. What more do you want?" "If she hadn't been at headquarters managing my relationships these past two years, I never would have made it where I am." "You stayed home. You have no idea how hard it's been for me." No idea how hard it's been for him. What I knew was that the startup money he'd taken to headquarters — I'd sold my grandmother's house to put it together. What I knew was that I used to read his weekly texts over and over, a dozen times each. I took a slow breath and reached into my bag. I pulled out a small black voice recorder. He'd had it custom-made and sent to me during his first year away. Inside was his voice: "Three years, Sienna. Give me three years and I'll bring you here myself. You'll never have to wait again." I pressed play right in front of him. His voice carried down the empty street, warm and full of promise. It sounded almost grotesque. Julian's breath caught. He reached out to grab it. I let go. The recorder hit the ground. I raised my heel and brought it down hard. The plastic cracked with a sharp, clean snap. "Julian, we're done." I turned and walked away. Julian called my name. But his footsteps stopped when Vivienne let out a cry behind him. "Julian — the baby — something's wrong—" I didn't look back. I flagged down a cab and pulled the door shut behind me.
I didn't go back to the hotel. I went straight to the airport. I bought the first available flight back to the city we'd shared. The apartment was full of him. Matching slippers by the front door. Two sets of toiletries in the bathroom. Our fifth anniversary photo still hanging on the wall. I found a suitcase and started packing. I didn't take anything that wasn't mine. I barely took anything that was. I'd just zipped it shut when I heard the lock turn. Julian stood in the doorway, tie loose, eyes red. He looked like he'd come straight off a plane. He'd followed me. He saw the suitcase on the floor and crossed the room fast, grabbing my hand. "Don't do this. Just calm down." "I know I messed up. But I never wanted a divorce." I looked down at his fingers on my hand. "Let go." He didn't. He pulled me into him instead. "I won't." "That kid was an accident. The night of the company party at headquarters, I blacked out. By the time I came to, it had already happened." "When Vivienne turned up pregnant, the doctors said terminating would put her life at risk." "What was I supposed to do? Let her die?" He handed every piece of blame to bad luck and impossible circumstances. I shoved him off and slapped him across the face. The sound rang through the apartment. Julian turned his head. One side of his face went red. "The first one was an accident. What about the second one she's carrying now?" "Did you black out for that one too?" Julian said nothing. He looked at me, and something flickered in his eyes. Annoyance. "Did you have to say it like that?" "I already told you — you're my wife. Most of what I have goes to you." "Vivienne doesn't want anything. She just wants a stable home for the kids." "Why can't you just be reasonable about this?" His nerve almost made me laugh. "Reasonable?" "Julian, you make Director and suddenly you think you're entitled to two women under one roof?" "What do you think a marriage is? What do you think I am?" He dragged a hand through his hair. "Then what do you want me to do?" "Strangle a two-year-old? Push Vivienne off a roof?" "You didn't used to be this cold." Cold. So in his mind, refusing to accept his mistress and her child made me the cold one. Something inside me shut off. And stayed off. My phone buzzed. A message from Vivienne. A photo. Her lying in a hospital bed, taking a selfie. The private medical wing at headquarters in the background. The caption read: "He flew back overnight to calm you down. I'm here alone, trying not to lose the baby. I'm scared. But I don't blame you. I just want you two to be okay." Then a second message came through. A photo of a legal document. A share transfer agreement. Julian had signed over thirty percent of his stake to a name I'd never seen before. Leo Harlow. The two-year-old's name. I held the screen up in front of Julian's face. "This is what you call most of it going to me?" Julian's face changed the moment he read it. "That was Mom. She pressured me into it. She said it was for the child's security—" I didn't want to hear another word. I grabbed the suitcase and walked around him toward the door. "My lawyer will contact you tomorrow morning. If I don't hear back by nine, I file and send this document straight to your company's HR." Julian didn't follow me out. His phone had started ringing. Through the line came the sound of Vivienne crying.
The next morning, Julian didn't show. He sent a long message instead. Vivienne was showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. He couldn't leave. He said he wouldn't sign the divorce papers. He told me to take some time to cool off. I didn't reply. I called a lawyer and had the petition drafted. What I didn't expect was that Julian would move first. A week later, the company held its annual gala. I was the lead designer at the regional office. Attendance wasn't optional. The venue was in headquarters' city. The moment I walked into the ballroom, I felt it — eyes on me, and not the good kind. Whispers everywhere. "That's her. Three years of marriage and not one kid." "I heard he's already got a second one on the way with someone else. And she's still hanging on, refusing to walk away." "Shameless. If I were her, I'd have taken the money and left." I swept a cold look across the room and walked to my seat. Up on the stage, Julian stood in a tailored suit, delivering the year-end address. His eyes found me through the crowd. There was a warning in them. The awards segment started. The Best Design of the Year award. My project. Three all-nighters to finish it. The host's voice rang out with forced enthusiasm. "And the award for Best Design of the Year goes to — Vivienne Vance!" My head snapped up. Vivienne walked to the stage in a couture gown, her stomach just beginning to show, accepting the applause with tears in her eyes. She took the trophy and looked straight at Julian. "I want to thank Mr. Harlow for his guidance. I wouldn't be standing here without him." The room erupted. I sat in my corner, shaking. That project was mine from start to finish. Vivienne couldn't operate CAD software. Julian took the microphone. His gaze went directly to me. "One more announcement before we close out the evening." "Due to health reasons, designer Sienna Thorne will be taking an indefinite leave of absence." "Vivienne Vance will step in as acting head of design at the regional office, effective immediately." Every eye in the room landed on me. Some pitying. Some laughing. Most just watching to see what I'd do. This was how Julian intended to break me. Strip away my work. gut my career. Humiliate me in front of everyone. All to make sure I understood: without him, I was nothing. I stood up. No hysteria. No running. I walked to the front of the room and looked up at Julian on his stage. "Stealing someone else's work does carry legal consequences." Julian frowned. He dropped his voice. "Stop making a scene. I'm giving Vivienne the credit as compensation. If you want money, I'll pay you double. Privately." I looked at his face and felt sick. "You're using my work to compensate your mistress?" "Julian, you never stop surprising me." Vivienne spoke up beside him, soft and wounded. "Please don't blame him. I'm the one who wanted a chance to prove myself." "I don't want the prize money. Every cent goes to you." A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. "She's so gracious." "Exactly. Three years, no kids, and she still has the nerve to act like this." A sharp pain tore through my abdomen without warning. Like a blade turning inside me. I pressed my hand to my stomach. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Julian assumed I was faking. He let out a short, contemptuous laugh. "Don't recycle the same tricks, Sienna." "Security. Please escort Ms. Thorne out." Two large men closed in from either side and grabbed my arms. The pain had taken everything out of me. I had nothing left to fight with. They half-dragged me out of the ballroom. As the doors swung shut behind me, I heard Vivienne's voice float out, sweet and soft. "Julian, the baby just kicked."
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