The Shadow Husband

Chapter 6. Unspoken Questions and Unwanted Encounters

"Are you trying to poison me first thing this morning?"

Julian froze in the kitchen doorway, staring at Claire’s back as she bustled in front of the stove. The scent of fried garlic and sunny side up eggs filled the penthouse, a space that usually smelled of expensive aromatherapy and sterile, empty air.

Claire turned around, holding a spatula, her cheeks slightly flushed from the heat of the burner. "I’m just making a simple breakfast. Consider it part of my rent here, since I can’t let you survive on canned food every day."

Julian didn’t reply. He walked over, pulled up a tall bar stool, and stared at the plate of fried rice and eggs still steaming hot. It had been years since he’d eaten anything other than meals at fancy restaurants or protein bars in the middle of missions. Seeing an ordinary ceramic plate with food made by someone else’s hands made his chest feel tight. Yet his expression remained as blank as ever.

"Eat it. Don’t just stare," Claire said, setting a glass of water next to Julian’s plate.

Julian picked up a spoon, took a slow bite, and chewed thoughtfully. "It’s decent."

"Decent? Just decent?" Claire huffed, but she secretly smiled as she watched Julian devour bite after bite quickly.

After finishing the meal, Claire immediately cleared the table and grabbed her college bag. She glanced at her watch, realizing the subway would be arriving soon.

"I’m heading out now. I have a morning class," Claire said goodbye.

Julian stood up and snatched his car keys from the table. "I’ll drive you to the station."

"There’s no need, Julian. I can take the bus or walk a short distance to Namba Station."

"This is an order, not an offer," Julian replied, walking ahead of her toward the private elevator.

Inside the sleek, expensive black sedan, silence settled between them. Claire kept glancing at the car’s interior, then shifted her gaze to Julian’s profile as he focused on the road. She thought of the luxurious penthouse, the collection of watches in Julian’s room, and this car. It all felt far too excessive for someone who claimed to do odd jobs for a living.

"Julian," Claire called softly.

"Hmm?"

"All of this, the penthouse, the car, the furniture inside the house. Did Grandpa Silas give all this to you?" Claire asked, twisting the strap of her bag and trying to sound as casual as possible. "I mean, Grandpa loves you so much, it makes sense that he’d take care of you."

Julian fell silent. His jaw tightened slightly. He was unsure how to answer. Should he admit that Grandpa Silas didn’t even know the extent of the wealth he’d built on his own? Or should he keep pretending to be the pityed, cast-aside grandson?

Seeing Julian say nothing but stare straight ahead, Claire’s courage suddenly vanished. She felt she had overstepped.

"Sorry, forget I asked. I didn’t mean to pry into your personal business," Claire mumbled quickly. She looked out the window, feeling foolish for having asked.

Julian glanced briefly at Claire, who looked dejected. He wanted to explain, but the words got stuck in his throat. "We’re here," he said coolly as the car pulled up right in front of the station entrance.

Claire got out immediately without looking back. "Thanks for the ride."

Campus life felt incredibly dull for Claire that day. After finishing her tough business law class, she didn’t go straight home. She had to head to a café in a commercial area near the city center to start her part-time shift. As a student whose bank account had been frozen by her stepfamily, she needed cash for daily expenses that she refused to ask Julian for.

Claire was wiping down a table when the café’s glass door chimed. A woman in a cream silk dress walked in with an exaggeratedly graceful stride. It was Natalie.

Natalie took off her sunglasses, looked around with a disgusted expression, and then her eyes landed on Claire, who was wearing a brown apron.

"Oh, look who this is. The new café waitress?" Natalie walked closer, her voice deliberately raised so other patrons would turn to look.

Claire took a deep breath, trying to remain professional. "Good afternoon. What would you like to order?"

Natalie let out a hollow laugh, her red-nailed fingers tapping roughly on the wooden table. "I just feel bad for you, Claire. I thought after marrying that guy, your life would be a little more respectable. But instead, you end up wiping down strangers’ coffee stains?"

"I work honestly, Natalie. That’s better than living off exploiting other people’s money," Claire replied calmly, though her hands trembled slightly with emotion.

Natalie leaned in closer, a triumphant smile on her face. "You know? Arthur bought me a new bag this morning before he left for Blackwood’s headquarters. He said he feels so free now that he doesn’t have to deal with a boring girl like you anymore."

"I’m glad you two are happy. Now, if you’re not going to order anything, please leave. I have a lot of work to do," Claire said, pointing to the door.

"Arthur and I are going to make our relationship official once all this chaos dies down. Silas might like you, but Arthur only wants me. You’re just trash thrown to the outskirts of Namba, Claire." Natalie deliberately brushed against Claire’s shoulder as she turned to leave.

Claire stood frozen, staring at Natalie’s back disappearing through the glass door. Her chest felt tight. It wasn’t because she still loved Arthur, but because of the unfairness that kept pressing down on her. She felt small, helpless, and alone.

Suddenly, her phone in her apron pocket vibrated. A short message came from a number she hadn’t saved, but she knew who it belonged to.

"What time will you be done? I’ll pick you up from work."

Claire stared at the phone screen for a long time. Her sadness slowly faded, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. Amidst Natalie’s insults, the mysterious man she’d once suspected was a hitman was the only one looking out for her.

Claire typed a reply with trembling fingers. "In an hour. But don’t pick me up in front of the café. I don’t want my coworkers to see your fancy car."

An hour later, Claire stepped out of the café’s back door. She saw Julian’s black sedan parked on a dimly lit street corner. Julian was leaning against the car door, his arms crossed over his chest, watching Claire as she walked over, exhausted and with her shoulders slumped.

"What’s with that look on your face?" Julian asked directly as Claire approached.

Claire shook her head, trying to force a small smile. "Just tired. A lot of annoying customers today."

Julian wasn’t stupid. He could see that Claire’s eyes were slightly red and puffy. He opened the car door for her, making sure she sat comfortably before he walked around to the driver’s seat.

"Who bothered you?" Julian asked again once they were inside the car. His voice was low, carrying an unhidden edge of threat.

"No one, Julian. Just work stuff."

Julian started the engine, but he didn’t drive off right away. He turned to look at Claire with an intensity that made her breath catch.

"I’m your husband, Claire. Even if it’s only on paper, no one gets to make you look this miserable in my territory," Julian said firmly.

Claire swallowed. "Your territory? What do you mean?"

Julian just stayed silent, turned back to face the road, and stepped on the gas. Claire watched him from the side, her mind drifting back to the conspiracy theories she’d been spinning. The way Julian spoke, how he’d picked her up at exactly the right time, and the dangerous aura that radiated from him.

Was Julian really just Silas’s unemployed grandson?

Claire closed her eyes, resting her head against the plush seat back. She was too tired to think any further. But one thing was certain. Inside this car, she felt safer than anywhere else in the world.

Will you tell me if you really are a dangerous person one day, Julian? Claire wondered to herself before drifting off to sleep on the ride home.