Betrayed Heiress Strikes Back

Chapter 20

The car door closed softly behind Kya as she slid back into the passenger seat, the box of pastries resting in her lap. Julian was finishing his call with his father, his voice clipped, his tone firm. When he hung up, he turned immediately to her.

“Kya,” he said, his brow furrowing. “What happened in there?”

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the ribbon of the pastry box. “I ran into Cecilia.”

Julian’s jaw tightened. “What did she say?”

Kya exhaled, her voice calm but edged with hurt. “The usual. She undermined me. Called me trash. Said I don’t know anything beyond being a housewife.”

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing. It wasn't worth my time. She doesn't matter to me anyway."

Julian’s eyes darkened, his hand reaching across the console to cover hers. “Don’t listen to her. That vile woman thrives on cruelty. She wants to make you doubt yourself because she knows she can’t measure up to you.”

Kya’s gaze softened, though her chest still ached. “She was with a friend. An older woman—kind, polite. I couldn’t understand how someone like her could be friends with Cecilia.”

Julian shook his head, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “She hides behind people who make her look better. But I don’t care about her. I care about you.”

Kya looked at him, her eyes searching. “Do you really?”

Julian leaned closer, his voice low, steady, unshakable. “I chose you, Kya. And I’ll keep choosing you, every day, no matter what they say.”

Her breath caught, her heart racing at the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, the sting of Cecilia’s words faded, replaced by the warmth of Julian’s certainty.

Kya closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, her lips curving faintly. “Thank you.”

Julian squeezed her hand once more, then started the car. “Let’s go home. We’ve had enough of other people’s opinions for one day.”

The engine hummed to life, carrying them away from the bakery, away from Cecilia’s venom, and toward something stronger—something that belonged only to them.

**

The evening air was cool as Julian pulled away from the Byrd residence, watching the porch light fade in his rearview mirror. He hated leaving Kya with sadness lingering in her eyes, the sting of Cecilia Henry’s words still fresh.

Once he was alone on the road, Julian reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Adrian,” he said when the line picked up.

Adrian Cole had been Julian’s personal assistant and confidant for seven years. More than an employee, he was a friend—sharp, discreet, and loyal to the core.

“Julian,” Adrian replied, his tone steady. “Is there something wrong?”

Julian exhaled, his jaw tightening. “It’s Cecilia Henry. She crossed a line today. She insulted Kya in public, called her trash. I don’t tolerate anyone making my bride feel small.”

Adrian paused, then asked carefully, “What do you want me to do?”

Julian’s eyes narrowed as he steered the car through the quiet streets. “I want to know what keeps her busy. How she spends her days. Who she talks to, where she goes, what she values. Everything.”

Adrian’s voice was calm, professional. “You’re planning something.”

Julian’s lips curved faintly, though his tone was cold. “A little game. Nothing cruel, but enough to remind her that she doesn’t hold power over Kya. If Cecilia enjoys meddling, then let’s see how she handles being… unsettled herself.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “I’ll start digging. Her kind is usually predictable, Julian. Old routines, old habits. It won’t take long.”

Julian’s grip tightened on the wheel, his mind replaying Kya’s quiet sadness at the bakery. “Good. I don’t ever want to see her hurt like that again. Not by Cecilia. Not by anyone.”

Adrian’s voice softened, almost approving. “You care for her deeply. That’s clear.”

Julian’s tone hardened, resolute. “She’s mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

The line went quiet for a moment, then Adrian replied, “I’ll have a report for you soon.”

Julian ended the call, his expression unreadable as the city lights flickered in the distance. The game had begun.

**

Adrian’s voice was steady as he continued his report. “So here's her routine. Morning coffee at the same café, afternoons at the country club, evenings with her bridge circle. And on Friday nights—she plays poker. But here’s the detail you’ll appreciate: Cecilia only started playing when Sebastian began making money with his business. And that business, Julian, thrived all thanks to Rylee when they were married.”

Julian’s brows lifted, his lips curving faintly into a cold smile. “So even her indulgence is built on what Kya gave them.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Exactly. Poker became her way of flaunting Sebastian’s success, as though it were her own. She prides herself on being clever at the table, but the truth is, she’s only there because of the wealth Rylee helped create.”

Julian leaned back, his expression sharpening. “Interesting. Poker happens to be my favorite game. If Cecilia enjoys playing, then I’ll enjoy reminding her that games can be played both ways.”

Adrian’s tone carried quiet approval. “Then you’ve found the perfect way to unsettle her. I’ll gather the details—where she plays, who sits at her table, how much she wagers. If you want to step into her world, you’ll be ready.”

Julian’s voice hardened, resolute. “Good. But remember—this stays between us. Kya doesn’t need to know."

Adrian’s reply was firm. “Understood. I’ll have everything prepared before Friday then you can let me know when you want to play with her. Your wedding is coming up soon so we will just have to delay this game a little bit.”

"Yes."

Julian ended the call, his smile fading into a look of resolve. Cecilia Henry had played her hand too many times, undermining Kya with venom. Now, Julian would play his own hand—at the very table Cecilia thought she owned.