CHAPTER FOUR
1021 Words
Dahlia’s POV
The moment I saw him, the world tilted slightly.
Julian Harrington.
He was here.
My fingers instinctively tightened around the stem of my champagne glass, my pulse skipping an uneven beat. He stood near the bar, effortlessly poised, exuding an air of confidence that was both familiar and foreign. The years had changed him—his presence felt heavier now, like he carried something sharp beneath the smooth veneer of wealth and power.
And yet, the way he held himself, the way he scanned the room with that quiet intensity, was still unmistakably Julian.
I could only stare.
Then, as if sensing my gaze, his eyes met mine.
A slow, deliberate flicker of recognition passed through them, but nothing else. No surprise. No shock. Nothing to suggest that he saw the woman who had once been his wife standing in front of him.
Instead, his expression remained unreadable.
Cold. Detached.
Like I was a stranger.
“Dahlia.”
Theodore’s voice pulled me back. I turned slightly, my husband standing beside me, his grip firm on my waist.
He had seen Julian, too.
The shift in Theodore’s demeanor was nearly imperceptible—a slight tightening of his jaw, a subtle stiffening of his shoulders—but I knew him well enough to recognize it for what it was.
Tension.
Theodore was many things—ruthless, possessive, controlled—but in this moment, something about Julian unsettled him.
Julian, however, remained utterly unmoved.
His gaze lingered on us for a fraction of a second longer before he turned back to the man he was speaking to, as if we weren’t worth his time.
The slight was clear.
Theodore exhaled slowly. “Let’s move.”
I hesitated.
“Dahlia.” His voice was lower this time.
I forced my feet to move, allowing Theodore to guide me through the crowd, though I couldn’t resist glancing back. Julian wasn’t looking at me anymore.
As if I had never existed.
“Interesting,” Theodore muttered, his grip tightening. “I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”
I swallowed. “Neither was I.”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “You know him?”
My breath hitched, but before I could respond, another voice cut in.
“Of course she does.”
Delilah.
She appeared as effortlessly as always, moving between us like she belonged in the space. Dressed in an elegant emerald gown, she exuded control and charisma.
And she was smiling.
Not at me. At Julian.
She turned toward the guests nearby, her voice carrying just enough to command attention. “I see some of you have noticed our unexpected guest.” She gestured toward Julian, who finally looked in our direction again. “Julian Harrington. The real reason Harrington Enterprises is what it is today.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
I saw Theodore’s expression darken, but he said nothing.
Delilah continued, basking in the sudden hush. “Everyone knows our family’s name, but very few understand the work that goes into building an empire. The wealth, the influence, the power—it was never just given. It was built. Earned. Fought for.” She paused, eyes glinting with something almost wicked. “And if there’s anyone responsible for making sure the Harrington legacy remained intact, it’s Julian.”
I could hear Theodore’s teeth grind.
Delilah smirked. “Oh, and of course, let’s not forget… Eleanor’s favorite son.”
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Theodore’s fingers twitched.
Then he corrected, “Or favorite person.”
His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the jealousy laced beneath.
Delilah simply laughed. “Ah, yes. She always did favor Julian over—well, never mind.”
Theodore’s jaw tightened, but Julian still hadn’t spoken.
Then, finally, he did.
“Delilah.” His voice was smooth, unaffected. “That’s enough.”
There was no warmth in it, no brotherly affection. Just cold civility.
Delilah merely smiled, but I noticed the way her nails lightly tapped against her glass. “Oh, don’t be modest, Julian. You know it’s true.”
A flicker of something passed through Julian’s expression, gone before I could grasp it.
“Regardless,” he said flatly, “I’m not here to discuss family politics.”
Theodore exhaled sharply. “Then why are you here?”
Julian looked at him then. Really looked at him.
The power struggle between them was unspoken, but palpable. Theodore was a man used to control, used to being the most powerful presence in any room. But standing across from Julian, there was an unfamiliar weight in his posture.
Intimidation.
I had never seen Theodore intimidated before.
And Julian—he wasn’t even trying.
Their stare-down stretched long enough for the tension to thicken, the crowd around us watching with poorly veiled interest.
Then Julian simply smirked, took a sip of his drink, and turned away.
Just like that.
As if Theodore didn’t matter.
Theodore’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, but before he could react, someone else called his name. A senator, I think. One of his business partners. Someone who required his attention.
He hesitated.
Then, finally, exhaled and forced a smooth expression back onto his face. “Excuse me,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before walking away.
Delilah gave me a knowing glance. “Well, that was fun.”
I swallowed. “You enjoy stirring the pot, don’t you?”
Her smirk deepened. “You make it too easy.”
I shook my head, but my thoughts were already elsewhere.
Because somehow, amidst all of it, I was left standing alone.
With Julian.
The space between us felt impossibly heavy, the air thick with things unsaid.
I turned to face him fully. He regarded me with the same unreadable expression he had earlier, as if I were nothing more than a passing acquaintance.
“Julian—”
“Don’t.” His voice was quiet, but firm.
I closed my mouth.
The silence stretched.
Then, finally, he exhaled. “This is going to be interesting.”
And somehow, I knew he wasn’t talking about the gala.
- Writer
