The words stayed glued to my tongue, heavy, ready to spill—but then I looked at him.
Julien stood before me, his sharp green eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place. Relief? Contentment? Happiness?
It struck me like a fist to my gut.
He was happy.
I had expected tension, suspicion, a cold indifference that would make it easier to tell him the truth. But instead, he looked… at ease. And for the first time since I stepped into Madison's life, I saw a side of him that made me understand why I fell deeply in love with him back in high school.
Could I really take that from him? Could I really rip apart this moment with a truth that would change everything?
No.
Not yet.
I needed to make sure Madison was okay first. I needed time.
So instead, I forced a small, breathless laugh and shook my head. "It's nothing," I said.
His eyes flashed with curiosity, but he didn't push. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, his fingers curling lightly around my wrist. "Come," he murmured. "I have something for you."
He led me toward the back of the building, where a sleek, black Rolls-Royce Phantom was waiting. The driver stood by the door, stiff and professional, his gaze never meeting ours.
Julien opened the door himself, ushering me inside.
I slid in cautiously, sinking into the plush leather seats. The interior was pure opulence—black with gold accents, a starlit ceiling that twinkled like a night sky. It smelled of leather, luxury, and something undeniably Julien.
As the car pulled away from the venue, silence stretched between us. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy, burning.
I kept my eyes forward, but the weight of it was unbearable.
When I finally turned to meet his gaze, I regretted it instantly.
His green eyes were darker now, intense, raking over me as if he were committing every detail to memory. His eyes were hungry on me - no, on Madison.
Undressing me with his gaze.
A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard.
"W-what is it?" I asked softly. Perhaps, he had figured out I wasn't Madsion, his wife, because we sat so close and he could tell every detail of his wife, and those details were missing on me.
But, instead, his lips titled in a half smirk, and he murmured seductively, "You're breathtaking."
My breathing hitched. The way he dragged out those words, his French accent dripping with seduction, left me breathless. I'm almost certain I'd be nothing but a melted wax by the time I reveal the truth to him and go back to my life as Penelope.
My fingers clenched in my lap.
He wasn't saying it to me. He was saying it to Madison. To the woman he loved, I assured myself.
I was just a substitute.
I forced myself to mutter a small, almost a whisper, "Thank you."
Julien tilted his head, studying me. "You've been quiet," he said, his voice softer now. "Did I do something wrong?"
I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm just… tired."
He didn't push. He simply nodded, shifting his gaze back to the window as the car continued through the city.
By the time we arrived at the house, my mind was a mess of tangled thoughts.
The moment I stepped out of the car, I was hit with the sheer grandeur of it all. The estate was massive, an architectural masterpiece of glass and stone, the sprawling driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges. It wasn't just a house—it was a kingdom.
There is a luxurious, modern staircase with gentle curves and glowing, yellow-white LED lights. The stairs lead up to the entrance of a large, multi-level house with large windows and a modern architectural design.
The modern mansion is near a body of water. The surrounding environment includes palm trees and landscaping that enhance the luxurious feel of the scene.
I didn't realize I was staring until Julien let out a quiet chuckle beside me. "What?"
I shook my head, still in awe.
He raised a brow, smirking. "You look like it's your first time here."
A nervous laugh bubbled up, but I swallowed it down. "Just tired, remember?"
Julien's gaze lingered for a moment before he led me inside.
The interior was just as breathtaking. Grand chandeliers, polished marble floors, artwork that probably cost more than my life.
He guided me to a private elevator at the far end of the hall. As the doors slid open, I stepped inside, feeling the tension rise between us in the enclosed space.
Neither of us spoke.
The elevator ascended, the soft murmur of movement the only sound.
Then it stopped.
The doors opened to a dimly lit hallway.
Julien stepped out first, his stride slow, deliberate. I followed, my pulse quickening as he halted in front of a large, reinforced door.
I watched as he pressed in a passcode—one he made no effort to hide from me. Oh, wait - Madison. After all, she was his wife. Why would be hide anything from his wife? Maybe the passcode had even been created following a memorable day date in her life.
I was just a substitute.
A soft beep, then a metallic click.
The door swung open.
Inside was a vast, dimly lit room, cool air brushing against my skin. But my eyes went straight to the massive vault in the center.
It was a beast of a thing—iron, secure, unbreakable.
Julien walked toward it, his movements slow, calculated. With a few small twists of the dial, the vault clicked open.
My breath caught in my throat.
Stacks upon stacks of crisp dollar bills, neatly arranged in bundles. Millions. Maybe more.
Julien glanced at me, amusement flickering in his gaze as he took in my expression. "It'll be yours soon," he murmured. "One hundred days."
One hundred days until Madison's twenty-fourth birthday. One hundred days until my own twenty-fourth birthday.
My hands trembled slightly at the thought.
But before I could process it further, Julien turned to me.
His fingers caught mine, and before I could react, he slid something onto my finger.
Cool metal.
I looked down, my breath catching.
A diamond ring.
He was kneeling slightly, his expression unreadable.
"Promise me," he said softly, his voice dangerously low. "Promise me you'll be with me forever."
My lips parted, but no words came.
Forever.
The weight of that word suffocated me.
But when I looked at him—at the way he held my hand so gently, the way his green eyes darkened with something unspoken—I found myself nodding.
Julien exhaled, a slow, satisfied sound, before pulling me into his arms.
The embrace was deep, unyielding.
His scent surrounded me, his warmth sinking into my skin.
Before I knew what I was doing, I melted into him.
I shouldn't have.
I should have pulled away, reminded myself of who I was, of the truth I was hiding.
But I didn't.
I let him hold me
I let myself breathe him in.
And as my gaze flickered past his shoulder, back to the open vault and the stacks of loaded in it, a single thought crossed through my mind.
What if I just don't reveal the truth?
Julien's fingers curled around my wrist, his touch warm and firm as he led me through the mansion. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind spinning with the pressure of his last words.
"Promise me you'll be with me forever." He had said.
I hadn't given him an answer.
I didn't know if I could give him an answer. Those words were meant to be said to Madison and Madison alone. She should be the one to give him an answer. Hopefully, I leave this hell hole in few minutes and Madison gets back her rightful place.
But I pushed the thought away as he led me into a new room. The moment I stepped inside, I nearly lost my breath.
It wasn't just a bar—it was the bar.
Floor-to-ceiling glass shelves lined the walls, housing an extensive collection of the finest liquors from around the world. Soft golden lighting illuminated each bottle, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room. A long, sleek black marble counter stretched across the space, polished to perfection, with luxurious leather bar stools lined neatly in front of it.
A crystal chandelier hung low, refracting light in delicate rainbows that danced over the dark wooden floors. The faint scent of aged oak and expensive liquor lingered in the air, intoxicating in its own way.
My fingers curled into my palms as I forced myself to act unfazed. I didn't want Julien to notice the way I gawked at the room, like some wide-eyed imposter who didn't belong here. Because I don't belong here.
He pulled out a bar stool for me, and I hesitated only a second before sinking onto it.
All these gestures. Madison had experienced them all. She was very lucky indeed. The universe really loved her enough to give her a man like Julien. Me, on the other hand…
Oh, Evan Harper has to be the worst man walking this earth
"Wine or beer?" he asked smoothly, moving behind the counter.
It was a smooth move I knew he had mastered because he had done it more than several times. It was supposed to be a harmless move, but it had made me gulp, seeing his waist twist around like that. It was like—
Oh, nevermind.
I swallowed hard. "Wine."
Julien's lips tilted in approval as he reached for a bottle. My gaze flickered over the elegant label as he pulled it from the shelf—Château Margaux 2005. My heart nearly stopped.
A bottle of this vintage easily cost over five figures.
He uncorked it with practiced ease, pouring the deep red liquid into a crystal glass before sliding it toward me. I took it carefully, my fingers trembling slightly as I lifted it to my lips. The taste was rich, smooth, but I barely registered it.
Julien settled on the other side of the counter, pouring himself a glass but not drinking just yet. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms against the marble, his sharp green eyes watching me.
He didn't look away. Not once. I took another sip of wine, forcing it down to drown the bile rising in my throat. His stare was too sharp—like he was peeling back layers, trying to find what didn't fit. Maybe he already had.
Then, in that slow, deliberate French accent of his, he cut through the silence like a knife through silk. Simply…
"Why are you avoiding my gaze, chérie?"
I froze. Then, reluctantly, I met his gaze.
Regret followed instantly.
His eyes—sharp emerald and sinfully unreadable—latched onto me like a curse. There was something dangerous in them tonight. Hunger. Amusement. Control.
A smirk teased his lips as he leaned forward, his hand resting on the table with effortless grace, fingers curled loosely around his glass.
"You know," he said, voice like velvet, "someone once told me… if a woman can't look at you when you're alone, it means she wants you."
His eyes bore into mine, unblinking.
"Tell me, mon ange… do you want us to fuck?"
My stomach flipped. Heat rose to my face. I couldn't breathe.
He didn't stop.
"Should we use the couch?" he murmured, eyes dropping to my lips. "Or would you prefer something rougher? Maybe… bent over the piano?"
"What? No." The words burst out before I could stop them. Too fast. Too desperate.
Julien's smile faltered just a little, his gaze sharpening.
I swallowed. "I mean… I'm just not in the mood."
He leaned in further, his scent—woodsy, clean, undeniably male—closing in. His voice was lower now, almost hurt beneath its sharpness.
"Then tell me the truth. Why are you pulling away?" His jaw clenched.
"I said I was tired," I lied again. How many more lies would it take before I could finally be free of this? Of him?
Julien didn't question it. His eyes—those lethal green daggers—softened with something close to affection as he took me in from head to toe.
"You look sexy," he murmured, his French accent dripping like honey over something wicked. He sipped his wine, eyes still locked on me, never blinking.
I nodded, pretending I didn't feel the sweat pooling in my palms. My skin tingled from anxiety, not desire—at least, that's what I told myself.
I took a sip of my wine, needing something to hold onto, when his next words made me choke.
"Your breasts look… fuller in that dress. Or is it just my imagination?"
The wine caught in my throat. I coughed, spluttered—spitting some out in a fine spray that trailed down my chin and dripped right into the swell of my cleavage.
Julien was on his feet in an instant, moving with that effortless grace he always carried like an anchor. He glanced around the room with mock concern.
"No towel," he said, his tone almost playful. Almost.
Then, he dropped to one knee.
I tensed.
And before I could process it, his tongue swept over the curve of my chest, tracing the spilled wine as if he were tasting something far more sinful.
A gasp escaped me—uncontrolled. My breath hitched as he paused, eyes studying the trail of liquid that had slithered down, disappearing into the neckline of my dress.
"Take it off."
I blinked. What? No.
I didn't even get the chance to answer before his hand found my zipper and pulled it down with one smooth motion. The fabric slipped from my shoulders like silk, pooling around my waist. My chest—bare, vulnerable—met his gaze, and his smile turned devilish.
"You're so clumsy, baby," he whispered, before dipping lower, his tongue trailing the wine across my stomach, down to the waistband of my underwear.
A moan threatened to break from my lips when he flicked his tongue over the spot just above my pelvis. He looked up at me through his long lashes, hand rising to cup my breast, molding it with expert ease. My lip was caught between my teeth, my control unraveling.
"Should I suck on it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
My nod was faint, hesitant.
His mouth claimed me—hot, wet, demanding. He licked, he bit gently, just enough to tease pain. I whimpered. Then his hand slid to my throat—not hard, just possessive—as his tongue swept up my jawline, licking away the wine on my chin like it belonged to him.
And then… his lips found mine. Wet. Commanding. Devouring.
"I want to fuck you, baby."
"Yes…"
Wait—
No.
The haze shattered. The word tasted wrong on my tongue.
I jerked back, stumbling off the bar stool, my dress slipping fully down to the floor. My body betrayed me—red lace panties, damp with shameful heat.
Mortification crashed down on me.
I yanked the dress up, not meeting his eyes. I couldn't.
"I need to step out for a while," I muttered.
His eyes sharpened. "Where?"
I hesitated. "Just… out."
Julien didn't look pleased, but after a moment, he exhaled. "I'll have the driver take you."
"No." My refusal came too quickly. I forced a small smile. "I just want to walk. Clear my head."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he finally gave a slow nod.
I turned swiftly, walking out before I could second-guess myself.
The cold night air wrapped around me the moment I stepped outside.
I should have taken the car. Walking through the city in a silky red gown that cost more than my rent back in my old life wasn't exactly ideal. Every step felt like a reminder—I wasn't Madison. I wasn't meant to be here.
But I pushed forward, my goal clear in my mind.
The hospital.
Yes. This has to end. How did I almost let him sleep with me—while Madison was still alive, still breathing? What was I thinking?
I had exposed myself. Let him touch me. I could still feel the heat of his hand on my skin, the way he cupped my breast, the wet trail of his tongue across my lips. The memory alone made my skin crawl.
I was a disgrace.
My stomach twisted violently. Before I could stop it, I doubled over and vomited into the nearest waste bin. The sharp taste of wine and the bitter tang of Rita's coffee came rushing up—reminders of everything I wished I could purge from my body and my memory.
The hospital was the closest one to the hotel, the logical place they would have taken Madison.
When I arrived, I wasted no time approaching the front desk.
"I'm looking for a patient," I said, my voice firm but urgent. "Madison Laurent."
The nurse tapped at the keyboard, her expression neutral. A few seconds later, she glanced up. "I'm sorry, but there's no one under that name."
My stomach twisted.
"That can't be right," I pressed. "She would have been admitted a few hours ago. Can you check again?"
The nurse frowned but humored me, typing something else.
A moment later, she shook her head. "No patient by that name."
Panic began to creep in. "Try another name. Penelope Harper."
The nurse's fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard. Another pause. Another shake of her head
"Nothing."
My heart pounded violently. This didn't make sense
I stumbled out of the hospital, my mind racing.
Where the hell was she?
Had she woken up and left? No, impossible. She was unconscious. She wouldn't have just disappeared
I pressed a hand to my temple, trying to think, trying to—
Madison's phone buzzed
I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the clutch as I pulled it out.
A strange number.
I hesitated, but something in my gut told me to answer.
I lifted the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
A moment of silence.
Then, a voice.
Low, steady, dripping with finality.
"Don't bother looking for Madison."
A slow, deliberate pause.
"She's dead."
The line went dead.
And so did the air in my lungs.