The divorce he never saw coming

The Phantom Touch

​The pill bottle sat on the mahogany table like a ticking bomb.

​After I walked out of the boardroom, Julian didn't move. He stared at the small white container, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Two pills. Left side of the head. How did she know?

​He looked at the board members, who were all avoiding his gaze. "Does she... does Ms. Leighton usually handle my personal medical needs?"

​Lewis Fitzroy cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward the door. "Lia has always been... remarkably attentive to the needs of the senior partners, Julian. You shouldn't read too much into it."

​Julian unscrewed the cap and took two pills. Within twenty minutes, the dull roar behind his left eye began to fade. It was the fastest relief he’d had in a week. A terrifying thought crossed his mind: Was I addicted to her before I forgot her?

​The CEO’s Office: 6:00 PM

​I was buried in the Vane deposition files when a shadow fell across my desk. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne—the one I had picked out for him last Christmas filled the room.

​"You're still here," Julian said. He sounded less like the arrogant lawyer and more like a man who was lost in his own building.

​"I have a firm to run, Mr. Cohen. Someone has to make sure the lights stay on while you’re out playing 'engaged' with Elizabeth."

​Julian walked to the window, looking out at the Port Harcourt skyline. "She told me we were happy. She told me we were planning a life together before the shooting. So why does everything she says feel like a script I’ve already read, but your voice feels like a song I can’t stop humming?"

​I stood up, walking around the desk. I stopped just a few inches from him close enough to see the silver flecks in his eyes, but far enough to keep my heart from breaking again.

​"Maybe it’s because Elizabeth is a ghost, Julian. And I’m the reality you tried to hide."

​"I don't believe in ghosts," he snapped, turning to face me. "I believe in facts. The fact is, my marriage certificate is missing. The fact is, there are no photos of us in my penthouse. The fact is, everyone tells me you’re just a brilliant strategist I hired from the UK."

​"Because you paid them to say that!" I stepped into his space, my anger finally bubbling over. "You spent three years making sure no one knew I existed. You wanted to protect me from Vane, but you ended up protecting yourself from me!"

​In the heat of the moment, I reached out and grabbed his hand. I pressed his palm against my cheek. "Does this feel like a stranger’s skin, Julian? Does my heart feel like it belongs to a 'consultant'?"

​Julian froze. His skin was hot against mine. I saw his pupils dilate. For a second, the coldness in his eyes flickered, replaced by a raw, primal recognition. His thumb instinctively grazed my lower lip a gesture he used to do every single morning before he left for work.

​He gasped, pulling his hand away as if I had burned him. "What are you doing to me?"

​"I’m not doing anything," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. "Your body remembers me, even if your mind is too stubborn to admit it."

​"Lia..." He breathed my name, and for the first time, it didn't sound like a professional title. It sounded like a plea.

​The office door swung open with a violent bang.

​"Julian! There you are!" Elizabeth stood there, draped in a silk dress that cost more than my first car. She looked from me to Julian, her eyes narrowing as she sensed the lingering electricity in the room. "The caterers are waiting at the house. We have to finalize the menu for the engagement gala."

​Julian cleared his throat, stepping back from me. The wall went back up instantly. "Right. The gala."

​"Ms. Leighton was just explaining a... complex clause in the Vane contract," Julian said, his voice regaining its icy professional edge.

​Elizabeth walked over and looped her arm through his, marking her territory. "Well, she can explain it tomorrow. You need your rest, darling. You’re still recovering."

​As they walked toward the door, Elizabeth paused. She looked back at me over her shoulder, a cruel, triumphant smile playing on her lips.

​"Oh, and Lia? I found a box of old 'housekeeper' clothes in the back of Julian's closet today. I had the maid throw them out. I figured you wouldn't want those old things cluttering up the place now that he’s moving on."

​I felt the blood drain from my face. Those weren't housekeeper clothes. That was the sweater I wore the night he told me he loved me. That was the scarf I wore to Sarah’s graduation.

​"They were just rags, Elizabeth," I said, my voice steady despite the roar in my ears. "The memories aren't in the fabric. They’re in the blood. And Julian has plenty of my blood on his hands."

​Julian paused, a look of confusion crossing his face, but Elizabeth tugged his arm, pulling him out into the hallway.

​I sank into my chair, my hands shaking. I needed a new plan. Elizabeth was erasing me physically, and Julian was erasing me mentally.

​I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

​"Xavier?" I said when the line connected. "I know you're in a holding cell. But I also know you have the one thing Julian can't ignore. I want the surveillance tapes from the Miller Street house. All of them."

​CLIFFHANGER:

Xavier Thorne’s voice comes through the prison phone, sounding disturbingly calm. "I'll give you the tapes, Lia. But in exchange, I want you to visit me. Alone. There’s something Julian didn't put in his journals... something about your father’s 'accident' twenty years ago that Julian has been hiding from you since the day you met."