Chapter 102 - 101 The Delusion
**[JULIAN]**
The silver doors of the VIP elevator slide fully open, releasing us into the chaotic, vibrant energy of the first-floor lobby of Bordeaux 101. The air down here is entirely different from the restricted corridor above. It is heavy with the sounds of clinking crystal, loud laughter, and the rich, overwhelming aroma of seared steaks and expensive garlic butter.
I step out onto the marble floor, but my mind remains firmly anchored on the second floor.
A profound, intoxicating warmth continues to spread rapidly through my chest, completely drowning out the ambient noise of the restaurant. I barely register the heavy, metallic shove Chloe delivered to my chest just moments ago inside the elevator. Her angry voice sounds like a distant, muffled radio.
I am completely immersed in the spectacular revelation I just experienced.
Emily Vance is still in love with me.
The sheer, undeniable reality of it acts like a potent narcotic on my bruised ego. The last forty-eight hours have been a living nightmare of professional humiliation and financial terror, but this single fact changes the entire landscape. Emily didn’t attack her sister out of random malice. She attacked her because the sight of me holding another woman drove her to absolute, violent despair. She is lashing out. She is screaming for my attention the only way her broken, jealous heart knows how. Her marriage to that massive, silent security guard is obviously a pathetic, transparent sham—a desperate attempt to make me notice her.
And it worked. I noticed.
A slow, deeply satisfied smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I adjust the lapels of my tailored navy suit, feeling my posture naturally straighten. The crushing weight of my father’s corporate ultimatums feels significantly lighter. I am still a man who commands total devotion.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
The sharp, high-pitched shriek shatters my euphoric daydream like a hammer striking glass.
I blink, pulling my focus back to the present moment. Chloe stands directly in front of me, physically blocking my path to the main dining room. The ambient light of the crystal chandeliers highlights the bright, angry red welt swelling across her left cheek. It stands out in stark, violent contrast against her pale, heavily applied foundation. Her chest heaves under the tight, metallic silver fabric of her dress.
"I asked you a question, Julian," Chloe hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. She steps closer, forcing me back toward the cold metal frame of the elevator bank. "What was that pathetic excuse for a warning? You sounded like a disappointed kindergarten teacher! She violently assaulted me, and you practically gave her a gentle pat on the head!"
I look down at her, trying to suppress the lingering smile on my face. Her anger is completely disruptive to my good mood.
"I handled the situation appropriately, Chloe," I reply, adopting my most reasonable, measured tone.
"You did absolutely nothing!" she snaps back, her manicured hands curling into tight fists at her sides. "She slammed me into a wall! She choked me! And you told her to ’stay away’ in the softest, sweetest voice you could muster. I want her dragged down here. I want an apology. I want you to make her look me in the eye and beg for my forgiveness."
I let out a slow, heavy sigh. I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. Women are incredibly exhausting when they let their emotions completely override their logic.
"You are not thinking clearly," I tell her, dropping my hand and looking directly into her furious blue eyes. "You know exactly how Emily is right now. She is entirely unreasonable. Her pride is completely fractured. She just lashed out in a fit of hysterical jealousy. Do you honestly believe a woman in that highly unstable mental state is going to politely apologize?"
Chloe glares at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"She is hurting, Chloe," I continue, lowering my voice to a gentle, patronizing murmur. I attempt to appeal to her sense of superiority. "You won. You have me, and she doesn’t. She is forced to watch us build a future together while she is stuck relying on some low-level hired muscle for her survival. You need to be the bigger person here. You need to understand her pathetic situation and just let it go."
The words are meant to soothe her, to remind her of her victory. Instead, they act like a match dropped directly into a pool of gasoline.
Chloe’s expression twists into a mask of absolute, venomous outrage. She takes another step forward, closing the distance until I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. The cloying scent of her floral perfume invades my personal space.
"Understand her?" Chloe repeats, her voice dropping to a lethal, quiet whisper that somehow sounds far more dangerous than her shouting. "You want me to *understand* the lunatic who just left a handprint on my face?"
She narrows her eyes, studying my face with a cold, calculating intensity that makes my stomach turn slightly.
"You liked it," she accuses sharply. She jabs a long acrylic nail hard against my breastbone. "You didn’t demand an apology from her because you don’t actually care that she hurt me. You were too busy stroking your own massive ego. Let me ask you a direct question, Julian. Do you still love her?"
The directness of the question hits me like a physical blow.
"Don’t be absolutely ridiculous," I snap, my defensive instincts kicking in instantly. The warmth in my chest vanishes, replaced by a sudden, defensive spike of irritation. "I do not love Emily. I left her. I chose you. I am merely trying to handle a volatile situation with a basic level of tact."
It is the absolute truth. I do not love Emily Vance. I find her current, aggressive demeanor highly abrasive and entirely unappealing. But I love the way she looks at me. I love the unquestionable power I hold over her emotional state. Admitting that distinction to Chloe, however, would be corporate suicide.
"Tact," Chloe mocks bitterly. She crosses her arms tightly over her silver dress.
I pull back the sleeve of my suit jacket and check the face of my gold Rolex. The digital hands indicate we have already wasted fifteen minutes on this ridiculous domestic drama.
"We do not have time for this," I state firmly. My impatience rapidly overrides my desire to coddle her hurt feelings. "Professor Chase is waiting for us in the main dining hall. He specifically arranged a table near the Monroe family investors. We need capital for the new alternative research division. Thorne Medical’s entire quarterly projection relies on the introductions we make tonight. We need to skip this topic entirely and go find your teacher."
I reach out, intending to take her elbow and guide her away from the elevator banks.
The exact second my fingers brush against her bare arm, Chloe violently jerks her body away from me.
She shakes off my hand with such aggressive force that her silver clutch nearly flies out of her grip. She takes two large steps backward, putting a physical, undeniable barrier between us.
"Do not touch me," Chloe commands. Her blue eyes are entirely devoid of warmth. They are completely dead and calculating.
"Chloe, stop it," I warn, my tone hardening. People in the lobby are beginning to glance in our direction. "You are embarrassing yourself."
"No," she says firmly. She holds her chin high, completely ignoring the curious stares of the wealthy patrons walking past us. "I am giving you an option, Julian. You have exactly two choices right now. You either break up with me, this very second, and walk into that dining room alone to explain to my professor why you lost his star pupil... or you march me back upstairs and you make her apologize to me."
The ultimatum hangs in the air between us, heavy and completely unyielding.
I stare at her in profound disbelief. My jaw clenches so tightly my teeth grind together.
She is completely making a mountain out of a molehill. She received a minor, insignificant slap during a petty sisterly argument. In the grand scheme of the universe, it means absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, I am currently facing the total collapse of my family’s pharmaceutical empire. If I do not secure external capital this week, Thorne Medical will be entirely swallowed by our competitors. My father will strip me of my inheritance. The sheer scale of my problems vastly outweighs her bruised cheek and her bruised ego.
Yet, she is willing to sabotage my entire financial future over a basic catfight.
A hot, dark surge of genuine anger flares up in my chest.
"You are being completely irrational," I hiss, stepping toward her.
"Choice one or choice two, Julian," Chloe replies coldly. She turns her body away from me. "I am not going to ask you again."
She doesn’t wait for my response. She turns on the heel of her expensive stiletto and begins walking briskly toward the massive glass exit doors of the restaurant. She is entirely prepared to walk out into the Asuir night and leave me standing alone with a failing company.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierces directly through my anger.
I cannot lose her. Not tonight. Professor Chase is the gatekeeper to the exact specific demographic of investors I desperately need to reach. The old academic adores Chloe. If she walks out of this building angry, she will poison the professor against me before the sun comes up tomorrow. My only lifeline to the Monroe capital will be permanently severed.
I break into a rapid jog across the marble floor. I catch up to her just before she reaches the velvet ropes of the hostess stand.
I reach out and grab her upper arm. My grip is firm, halting her forward momentum instantly.
"Let go of me!" Chloe snaps, trying to wrench her arm free.
"Stop," I order, dropping my voice to a harsh, desperate whisper. I pull her slightly to the side, hiding us behind a towering, decorative marble pillar near the coat check.
I force myself to take a deep breath. I swallow the bitter, burning taste of my own pride. I adopt the patient, agonizingly slow cadence of a man negotiating with an unpredictable explosive device.
"Please, Chloe," I say, forcing my facial muscles to relax into an expression of earnest pleading. "Stop making a scene. We cannot afford to blow this networking opportunity. I need those introductions. You know exactly what is at stake for my company. Please, just come into the dining room with me."
Chloe stares up at me. She doesn’t fight my grip anymore, but her posture remains rigidly defiant.
"I know exactly what is at stake," she replies smoothly. The absolute certainty in her voice is terrifying. She knows exactly how much leverage she holds over my life. "Which is exactly why you are going to take me back upstairs. Break up with me, or get me my apology. I am not changing my terms."
The anger returns, violently crashing through my forced patience. She is openly extorting me. She is using the impending destruction of Thorne Medical to force me to indulge her petty, high school revenge fantasy. My masculinity is being aggressively challenged and boxed into a corner by a woman wearing a silver dress.
"She will not do it," I state frankly, my voice hardening with absolute certainty. "Emily’s temper is completely out of control. She is a wild animal right now. She will not agree to an apology, no matter what I say to her. Forcing the issue is completely pointless."
Chloe does not blink. A slow, deeply cruel smile creeps across her painted lips.
"I don’t need her to agree to anything," Chloe says softly. Her blue eyes flash with a dark, calculated malice. "I only need you to take me there. You just secure the access to the VIP corridor. I will handle the rest myself."
I look at her face. I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She has a plan. She wants to use my physical presence to intimidate Emily while she extracts her revenge.
I absolutely hate the idea. Returning to the second floor means admitting defeat. It means validating Emily’s violent behavior by engaging with it. It means delaying the crucial meeting with Professor Chase and risking the anger of the investors.
But I calculate the cold, hard numbers in my head.
Without Chloe, Professor Chase walks away. Without the professor, the investors do not take my meeting. Without the investors, Thorne Medical goes entirely bankrupt. I lose my wealth, my status, and my future.
My interests are entirely, hopelessly tethered to her satisfaction. I am trapped in a cage built by my own financial incompetence.
I release my grip on her arm. I let out a long, defeated breath. The euphoric joy I felt stepping out of the elevator five minutes ago is completely gone, replaced by the crushing, humiliating reality of my own weakness.
Due to my conflicting interests, I have absolutely no other choice.
"Fine," I mutter bitterly. I turn my back on the main dining room. "Let’s go find her."
I lead Chloe back across the marble lobby, walking directly toward the silver doors of the VIP elevator.