Chapter 3

Julian finally noticed me.

His face stiffened. "Maya..."

I didn't look at him. I turned directly to the officer. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

The negotiation dragged on. The victim insisted on pressing charges, while Julian refused to apologize.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and a tall, commanding figure stepped inside.

He looked like he had rushed over, yet his charcoal suit was immaculate, conveying a quiet, dangerous power.

"I am Julian Sinclair's attorney, Ethan Sinclair."

His eyes swept the room. When his gaze landed on me, he paused for a fraction of a second, giving me a polite, distant nod.

Ethan was incredibly efficient.

He reviewed the security footage, asked a few sharp questions, and then turned to the injured man.

"According to the footage, you initiated physical harassment against this young lady. My client's actions were an attempt to stop a crime.

While his force may have been excessive..." Ethan’s voice was calm, yet filled with an undeniable threat. "...we are willing to cover your medical expenses.

However, if you press charges, we will counter-sue you for sexual harassment. With this footage, your chances of winning are zero."

The man's face paled.

After a tense silence, the man signed the settlement agreement.

By the time we left the precinct, the night was pitch black.

Ethan's sedan was parked by the curb. "Get in. I'll take you home."

Julian didn't move. Chloe stood right behind him, her eyes still red from crying.

"No, go ahead," Julian said. "I need to drop Chloe off first. She's traumatized." He paused, looking at me. "I'm her supervising doctor. I'm responsible for her."

Ethan’s voice dropped, laced with warning. "Julian, don't push it."

But Julian was stubborn. "Just take Maya home, Ethan. Thanks for tonight."

Ethan frowned, about to argue, but I spoke up softly.

"Let's go, Ethan. Let Julian take her home."

Ethan gave me a long, unreadable look, but said nothing more.

I got into the passenger seat. As the car pulled away, I glanced at the side mirror. Julian and Chloe were standing together in the wind.

Suddenly, the face that had been engraved in my heart for eight years blurred for a split second.

The next day, Julian tried to explain.

He said he only pitied Chloe because she was young, naive, and had no one else to protect her in this harsh city. As her mentor, he felt obligated to help. There was nothing more to it.

I nodded and said nothing.

Julian let out a sigh of relief, glad I wasn't angry, and insisted we go ahead with the wedding plans.

Then, he went back to being busy. He didn't come home for days, claiming he had back-to-back surgeries at the hospital.

Until one evening, while I was home alone, the doorbell rang.

I opened it.

It was my second time seeing Chloe.

"Maya," she said in a small, timid voice. "Dr. Sinclair left a crucial medical file at home. The department needs it immediately, and since I live nearby, I offered to pick it up."

I found the file and handed it to her. "Is this it?"

She nodded, taking it. Then, her eyes fell on the half-finished wedding invitations scattered across my dining table. She froze.

I frowned. "Is there anything else?"

Chloe bit her lip, twisting the hem of her shirt as if gathering courage. "Can I use your restroom? I feel... a bit sick."

I stepped aside to let her in.