Chapter 7: Adrian Vance
1296 Words
Julian's Pov
I didn’t move from behind my desk after she left. I couldn’t. My fingers were digging into the textured edges of the Q3 financial briefs Isabella had handed me only moments before. She hadn’t blinked. She hadn’t trembled. When Isabella looked at me, she didn't see J. Arthur Blackwood, the formidable billionaire tycoon the media feared and the board respected. She saw the coward who had broken her heart and abandoned her a decade ago. She had delivered her financial reports with an icy, flawless professionalism that cut deeper than any blade, making it clear that she belonged here.
I let out a ragged breath, finally releasing the papers, and rubbed my pounding temples.
A few minutes passed in that agonizing silence before the heavy double doors to my office swung open without a single knock.
I didn't even have to look up to know who it was. Only one person in the entire city had the audacity to bypass executive security, ignore my assistant's desk, and walk directly into my inner sanctum as if he owned the place: Adrian.
Adrian Chinedu Vance III. To Wall Street, he was a brilliant, ruthless tech tycoon who had revolutionized digital infrastructure before his thirtieth birthday. To me, he was the brother I’d been inseparable with since my father shipped me off to Oxford to forcefully rewrite my future. Adrian carried a legacy in his very name—named the Third after his wealthy British grandfather, but given his middle name, Chinedu, by his fierce Nigerian grandmother who demanded he never lose his roots, no matter how high he climbed in high society. He was a striking, handsome man with a commanding, aristocratic presence that usually dominated any boardroom he stepped into.
But right now, as Adrian walked toward my desk, his usual easygoing, sharp elegance was completely replaced by pure, unadulterated curiosity.
"Hey, mate," Adrian started, his smooth British accent cutting through the heavy tension of the room. He leaned against the edge of my desk, crossing his arms over his chest as his keen eyes narrowed, studying my pale face. "I just saw a very gorgeous woman in the parking lot. I've never seen her before in your office—who is she?"
I swallowed hard, the name tearing through my throat like broken glass. I finally looked up, meeting his gaze.
"You just saw Isabella Anderson."
He stood there for a few seconds, looking utterly blank.
"Isabella Anderson?" Adrian repeated slowly, his accent deep and confused. He muttered the name under his breath again, his eyes tracking the ceiling as he searched his mind.
Then, a sudden spark of recognition lit up Adrian's eyes, and his commanding presence instantly turned heavy.
"Wait..." Adrian said, pointing a finger at me as the pieces clicked together. "Isabella Anderson? As in... the Isabella? The girl from back home? The girl you told me about three years ago when you were completely plastered?"
"The one I left behind," I interrupted, my voice flat and hollow. I couldn't even look him in the eye. I stared down at the crumpled Q3 briefs instead. "Yes. Her. She’s my new executive assistant."
Adrian stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, staring at me as if I’d completely lost my mind. "Your assistant? Are you mad? You cut your Chicago trip short, practically racing back to this building just to find out the woman whose heart you broke is managing your calendar?! If seeing her is going to tear you apart like this, why on earth are you keeping her here? Have HR transfer her to another floor by tomorrow morning. Buy out her contract. Do something."
"I can't," I said, slumping back into my leather chair. "She earned this position fairly while I was away. And honestly? I don't think I want her to leave. When she looked at me, there was no warmth left man. Just pure ice."
Adrian shook his head, looking at me with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You don't want her to leave? Julian, look at yourself. You're trembling. You look like a ghost. Keeping her this close is psychological torture for both of you. What are you going to do? Sit across from her every single day and pretend you didn't vanish into thin air ten years ago? You think you can just play the role of the aloof CEO while she coordinates your meetings?"
"I don't know what the play is, Adrian!" I snapped, the corporate armor briefly flaring before collapsing entirely. I buried my face in my hands. "I just know that when she looked at me, there was nothing but ice. She looked right through me."
Adrian walked back over to the desk, slamming his palms down on the dark mahogany, forcing me to look up. "Julian, I know you’ve carried a lot of regret. God knows I've had to drag you back to your penthouse on the night when you drank yourself to stupor over her."
The secret I had kept locked away for a decade finally tore its way out of my throat. " I never told you the whole truth, Adrian. Not even on the night I got drunk. The last time I saw Isabella... she was crying. She had just looked me in the eye and told me she was pregnant with my child."
Adrian completely froze. The easygoing elegance vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, stunned silence. "What did you say?"
"She was terrified, and I was a coward," I confessed. "I held her, I kissed her, and I promised her everything would be okay. I told her I was going to go home, talk to my parents, and that we would figure it out together. I gave her hope, Adrian. But the second I walked into my house, my father already had the black cars waiting. My passport was in his hand. Before the sun rose, I was on a flight to the UK, locked away at Oxford.
I left her pregnant, terrified, and waiting for a boy who never came back."
Adrian stood paralyzed, processing the weight of the confession, before slowly sinking into the executive chair across from me. "Bloody hell, Julian. You left her to face the world entirely alone."
"I know," I whispered.
Adrian leaned forward, gripping the edge of my desk. "Julian... if she was pregnant when you left ten years ago... did she give birth? Where is the baby?"
The questions hit me like a physical blow. "I... I don't know," I choked out, my hands trembling. "After my father shipped me off, I was completely cut off. By the time I got my freedom back years later, she had vanished. Wiped her digital footprint. I couldn't find a single trace."
Adrian’s jaw tightened. "So you're telling me you might have a ten-year-old child out there somewhere? And you have absolutely no idea?"
"No idea," I whispered, staring blankly at my desk. "She didn't drop a single hint tonight. I don't know if she had the baby, if she lost it, or if there's a child out there growing up without a father because of me."
Adrian let out a heavy breath, rubbing his temples. "If that child exists, she’s been raising them alone for a decade. You're going to have to face her, Julian. You can't ignore this."
"I know," I said, a desperate, fierce knot forming in my chest as I stared at the closed office door. "I'm going to find out the truth. Even if I have to beg her for it."
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