Chapter Three : The Morning After
1559 Words
Ethan Whitmore hated early mornings, but this one was worse than most. The faint buzz of the mysterious text still lingered in his mind like a sour aftertaste as he stood in the corner of his penthouse kitchen, staring blankly at a French press. Steam curled upward from his untouched mug. His mother had called twice already, leaving predictably cryptic voicemails about Vanessa and press photos from the gala. Lucas had sent a message with a simple “Call me when you’re free,” and Sienna, bless her, had sent a GIF of a flaming dumpster rolling downhill, but it was Juliette’s phone he kept thinking about.
The message wasn’t signed, no name, just three sharp words: “You were warned”.
He hadn’t told her yet, and he wasn’t sure why. He turned as the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. Lucas stepped in, casual in jeans and a navy bomber jacket, holding a paper bag and two coffees.
“You didn’t answer your doorbell or your phone or your soul.”
Ethan grunted. “Didn’t realize you were my therapist.”
Lucas dropped the bag on the counter. “If I were, I’d charge triple. You’ve been brooding since the gala.”
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’re standing in a silent kitchen staring at coffee like it owes you rent.”
Ethan exhaled. “Fine. I’m… processing.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Is this about Vanessa again? Or Juliette?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
“Something weird happened after the gala. Juliette left her phone and I picked it up to return to her, then someone sent her a message".
Lucas froze. “What kind of message?”
“Just three words: ‘You were warned.’”
Lucas’s face hardened. “That’s not nothing.”
“I know.” Ethan rubbed his jaw.
“I just don’t know what it means or who sent it or why it makes me feel like someone’s pulling strings.”
“Did Juliette see it?”
“No, not yet.”
Lucas leaned against the island. “Then maybe you should ask her before this turns into something bigger.”
Ethan nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’ll talk to her.”
Juliette was standing behind the counter of her aunt’s bookshop later that morning, cataloging inventory while sipping overly sweet tea from a chipped mug, when the bell above the door jingled, and she didn’t bother looking up.
“If you’re here for the Hemingway set, it’s already reserved.”
“I’m here for something else,” Ethan said.
She looked up sharply. “You’re surprisingly punctual, didn’t peg you for a before-noon type.”
“I had help,” he said, holding up a paper bag. “Lucas bribed me with croissants and guilt.”
Juliette arched an eyebrow. “So you came here to repay the favor?”
“I came here because you left your phone.”
She froze. “Oh.”
He set it gently on the counter between them.
Juliette picked it up, turning it over like it was fragile. “Thanks. I didn’t even realize…”
“There was a message,” Ethan said carefully. “I saw it by accident.”
Her eyes met his, sharp. “What message?”
He hesitated, then spoke. “You were warned.”
The color drained slightly from her face. “You read it?”
“I didn’t mean to. It buzzed and……..”
“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, setting the phone down.
“I’m just… surprised.”
He studied her. “Is there something wrong?”
Juliette shook her head. “It’s probably nothing, a spam text. I’ve had weird messages before.”
“Juliette…”
She smiled faintly. “If I start treating every anonymous text like a threat, I’ll never sleep again.”
Ethan didn’t look convinced. “If someone’s bothering you……”
“I can handle myself, Ethan.”
Their eyes locked.
After a long pause, he changed the subject. “You work here?”
Juliette relaxed slightly. “My aunt owns the place, I help out when I’m not buried in grant applications or dodging charity events.”
He glanced around. “It suits you, books and quiet corners. Orderly chaos.”
“Is that a compliment?” she asked.
“I’m still deciding.”
She shook her head, trying not to smile.
He tapped his fingers on the counter. “Juliette, the other night at the gala, something felt off.”
“You mean besides your mother’s disapproving glances and Vanessa circling like a shark.” Juliette laughed softly to ease her words.
“I mean… you and me, us,” He replied.
She stilled. “There is no ‘us.’”
“I’m not so sure anymore.”
She looked up sharply. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Blur the lines just because you’re curious, curiosity doesn’t fix the past.”
He nodded slowly. “But it might explain it.”
Her walls wavered for a moment, just long enough for Ethan to notice.
Juliette picked up a hardcover and began shelving it. “You came to return the phone and you did. Thank you, now you should go.”
Ethan watched her for another second. “You’re not as unreadable as you think.”
Juliette didn’t turn. “Goodbye, Ethan.”
He left quietly.
But neither of them saw Vanessa standing across the street, watching from behind mirrored sunglasses, a phone in hand and a smirk playing on her lip. Vanessa lowered the phone and glanced down at her watch. Exactly 10:34 a.m. Right on schedule, she watched Juliette through the window as the woman moved behind the counter, shelving books with practiced ease. A picture of poise and purpose, her jaw clenched slightly.
Across the street, Eloise Whitmore stepped out of a sleek black town car, the driver holding the door. She wore a sharp gray coat with pearl cuffs and walked with the sort of quiet grace that made people instinctively clear a path.
Vanessa turned and approached her. “Lady Whitmore.”
Eloise offered a tight smile. “Vanessa, thank you for the update. I see she’s still here.”
Vanessa’s gaze flicked to the window again. “Every morning since the gala, it seems she’s quite comfortable.”
Eloise didn’t respond at first, her eyes remained fixed on the bookshop.
“I just think it’s important Ethan remains focused,” Vanessa added gently.
“Especially now, with the board vote approaching, he’s under enough pressure already.”
Eloise looked at her. “You’ve always been a stabilizing influence. That’s one of the reasons I admire you.”
Vanessa smiled. “Thank you, I care about him, you know that I always have".
" Then help me keep him grounded,” Eloise said, tucking her gloves into her bag.
“We’ve spent years building a name that demands respect. I won’t have it scattered over a woman with nothing to offer but opinions.”
Inside the shos1p, the door chimed.
Sienna burst in with a gust of wind and laughter. “Tell me you made tea!” she said to Juliette. “Because I walked here, and my soul is officially damp.”
Juliette smirked. “Top shelf, second mug from the left, the ugly one.”
Sienna grabbed the mug and poured herself a cup. “You’re a saint. Now, what’s with the brooding vibes? Ethan came by, didn’t he?”
Juliette kept shelving. “He returned my phone.”
“And?” Sienna asked.
“And nothing.”
Sienna sipped, then narrowed her eyes.
“You have that look. That ‘I’m pretending I’m fine but actually unraveling on the inside’ look.”
“I’m fine,” Juliette said.
Sienna dropped into the reading chair.
“Then it’ll be an emotional mess for both of us. Lucas and I had dinner with his mother last night. She asked, wait for it…..if I knew any discreet tailors for Vanessa’s engagement dress.”
Juliette blinked. “Engagement?”
“She’s planning it like it’s already happened. Lucas was horrified, and I nearly choked on my wine.”
Juliette shook her head. “Ethan doesn’t even look at her that way.”
“Try telling Eloise that.”
Juliette fell silent.
Sienna studied her. “You don’t have to fight everyone alone, you know.”
Juliette gave a quiet smile. “I’m used to it.”
Sienna opened her mouth to say something else, but the shop bell jingled again.
Lucas stepped in, snow still clinging to the shoulders of his coat.
“Ladies,” he said with a grin. “Are we conspiring without me again?”
“Always,” Juliette said dryly.
He looked around. “This place smells like cinnamon and stubborn ambition.”
“Thank you,” Juliette replied.
He turned to Sienna. “We have thirty minutes before your mother starts texting.”
Sienna groaned. “Fine, But I’m taking this mug with me.”
“You’re not,” Juliette said.
“I am,” Sienna insisted. “This is emotional support tea now.”
They laughed, and the tension eased for a moment. Outside across the street, Eloise and Vanessa had already turned to go, their plan unfolding silently behind smiles.
- Writer
