Chapter 6
The rain had returned, slicking the pavement around the waterfront high-rise with oily reflections of neon street signs. Julian parked his sedan in the visitor slot, ignoring the automated parking ticket dispenser. He walked through the glass sliding doors of the lobby, where the front desk attendant immediately reached for the telephone.
"Mr. Sterling," the security guard said, standing up and blocking the elevator corridor. "You’re not permitted on the residential floors. Management has specific instructions regarding your presence."
Julian didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice or attempt to bribe the man, recognizing the futility of such old habits. Instead, he simply placed his hands on the marble reception desk and looked the guard in the eye.
"I’m not here to cause trouble," Julian said, his voice stripped of all corporate arrogance. "I just need five minutes. Tell Clara I’m in the lobby."
The guard hesitated, studying Julian’s exhausted face and unbuttoned collar before picking up the house phone. A muted conversation followed, punctuated by brief pauses. Finally, the guard hung up the receiver and gestured toward the open elevator.
"Penthouse B. Go on up, but keep it brief."
The elevator ride felt agonizingly slow. When the doors slid open on the top floor, Clara was standing in the doorway of her apartment. She was wearing a simple gray cashmere sweater and dark trousers, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She didn't invite him inside; she simply stood in the threshold, her expression neutral and guarded.
"You shouldn't be here, Julian," she said, her voice even.
"I know," Julian replied, stopping a few feet away. He looked past her into the brightly lit foyer, catching a glimpse of Leo’s favorite toy fire truck resting near the shoe rack. "I just wanted to see you. To talk."
"There is nothing left to talk about. Marcus has all my instructions regarding the legal proceedings."
"I’m not here to talk about lawyers or assets," Julian said, taking a slow step closer. "I’m here because... because I realized something tonight while sitting in my empty office."
Clara crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head slightly. "And what profound realization did you come to, Julian?"
"That I was a tyrant," he said softly, the words catching in his throat. "Not just with the company, but with you. I thought providing a mansion and a privileged life gave me the right to dictate your worth. I let Beatrice treat you like a servant in your own home because it flattered my ego to see everyone bowing to me."
Clara remained silent, her dark eyes studying his face for any sign of manipulation. She had seen him play this role before—the repentant husband seeking a second chance when his back was against the wall.
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"You don't believe me," Julian said, a bitter half-smile touching his lips.
"No, Julian, I don't," Clara replied calmly. "You aren't mourning the loss of our marriage. You’re mourning the loss of your control."
