Chapter 6 - The Whispers of the Past
Inside the sprawling Temple of Dendur, the gala was in full swing. High-society elites, tech billionaires, and international diplomats mingled under the warm ambient lights, sipping champagne and listening to a live string quartet.
Nadine was the undisputed star of the evening.
Board members, major retailers, and industrial clients circled her constantly, eager to discuss her new role as Chief Operating Officer of Fletcher Packaging. She handled every conversation with grace, sharp intelligence, and absolute authority, effortlessly securing three major supply contracts before the main dinner was even served.
Julian watched her from a few steps away, holding two glasses of champagne, his heart swelling with a fierce, unfamiliar pride.
"She's remarkable," a voice spoke beside him.
Julian turned to see Arthur Wescott standing nearby, a glass of scotch in his trembling hand. The elder Wescott looked defeated, his eyes bloodshot.
"She was meant to save my son's company," Arthur muttered bitterly. "Now she's building yours."
"Nadine was never meant to save your son, Arthur," Julian said coldly, taking a sip of his champagne. "Grant is a weak boy raised by a arrogant father. You thought you could intimidate a young woman because she was soft-spoken and cared about her family."
Arthur looked away, unable to meet Julian's dark gaze. "My board is holding a vote of no confidence against Grant tomorrow morning. Wescott Capital is dropping twenty percent in market value."
"Then I suggest you sell your personal shares before nine AM," Julian replied without an ounce of pity. "Because by ten AM, my firm is launching a hostile takeover bid for your entire real estate portfolio."
Julian turned away from Arthur, walking back toward Nadine as she finished a conversation with a senior director from the Department of Commerce.
"You look like a man who just executed another corporate raid," Nadine murmured playfully as Julian handed her a glass of champagne.
"Just clearing away old trash," Julian smiled gently, clinking his glass against hers. "Are you tired?"
Nadine looked down at her silver heels, then up into his dark eyes. "A little. My feet are killing me."
"Then let's leave," Julian said simply. "We've made our point."
As they walked toward the private exit near the American Wing, a young woman stepped out from behind a marble sculpture.
It was Camille Drake.
She looked disheveled, her gold sequined gown wrinkled around the waist, her dark eyes wide with desperate rage. She was holding a champagne flute by the stem so tightly the glass looked ready to shatter.
"You think you're better than me, don't you?" Camille spat, blocking Nadine's path. "You think because Julian Cross bought you a dress and some diamonds that you're suddenly royalty?"
Nadine stopped, placing a hand on Julian’s forearm to signal that she didn't need his protection.
"Camille," Nadine said calmly. "You're drunk. Go home."
"I was with Grant for two years!" Camille sneered, her voice rising slightly, attracting the attention of several guests nearby. "He laughed about you every single night! He called you his fat, quiet safety net! He said he only needed your father's name!"
The insult hung in the air, ugly and sharp.
Several people in the hallway gasped, turning their heads.
Julian’s face hardened into a terrifying mask of rage, his knuckles turning white as he took a step forward, but Nadine held him back.
Nadine walked right up to Camille, stepping directly into her personal space. Despite Camille's tall heels, Nadine’s posture was so commanding that she seemed to tower over the other woman.
"Grant spent two years lying to me, Camille," Nadine said, her voice quiet, steady, and utterly lethal. "And he spent two years hiding you in back-street hotels like a dirty secret while he begged my father for an alliance."
Nadine looked down at Camille’s silver clutch, then back into her eyes.
"He used both of us," Nadine added softly. "The difference is, I had the courage to walk out the front door. You're still begging for his crumbs."
Camille gasped, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, unable to formulate a single word.
Nadine turned to Julian, taking his arm. "Let's go home, Julian."
May you like
Julian looked down at his wife-to-be, his storm-gray eyes glowing with absolute adoration and deep, unyielding pride.
"Yes, my love," he whispered. "Let's go home."
