(Julian’s POV)
The silence in my home was never peaceful; it was heavy, suffocating, and designed to remind me of exactly what I was trapped in.
I walked into the foyer of my estate, the click of my shoes on the marble sounding like gunshots in the stillness. My house was a minimalist monument to success, all sharp angles, cold glass, and neutral tones. It was exactly like the office, except here, there was no paperwork to hide behind.
Elena was in the living room, a glass of scotch already in her hand. She was as striking as the day I married her, her beauty a sharp, jagged weapon she knew how to wield with surgical precision. It had been two years since the finalization of our divorce, two years since she had decided that the man she was sleeping with was more exciting than the hus
