Marcus POV
Juliana always made things heavy.
The house, the air, the silences lately. Every conversation turned into some drawn-out plea for attention, layered with sighs and pregnant pauses that exhausted me before we even finished speaking.
That used to be endearing. She used to be warm, light-hearted. She used to smile with her whole face, not just her lips. Now?
She was… tired. And I was tired of her.
Savannah, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air.
Lively. Fun. Supportive. Everything Juliana hadn’t been in months. Savannah knew how to make me feel like a man again, not a disappointment in designer suits. When she laughed, it wasn’t forced. When she touched me, it wasn’t routine. There was no judgment in her eyes, no endless list of expectations.
Just soft kisses, laughter, and a growing belly that held my future.
I knew what people would say. That I abandoned my sick, pregnant wife for her best friend. That I was cold, unfeeling, selfish. Maybe even cruel.
But none of them lived inside our marriage. None of them saw how Juliana stopped seeing me years ago, long before Savannah came back into the picture. Long before our “accidental” reunion at the gala. She made everything about her career, her independence, her control.
Then came the pregnancy. Suddenly, I was just a wallet with a heartbeat. But Savannah? She looked at me like I was the sun and the stars wrapped in a pinstripe suit. So no, I didn’t feel guilty.
And yes, I had every intention of starting over.
When Savannah was the one who made me feel alive again.
I was in the poolside lounge when the call came.
Savannah lay beside me on a padded recliner, sipping iced tea and scrolling through baby names on her phone. Her robe hung loosely off her shoulders, her belly gently rising and falling under a designer bikini.
It was peaceful. Perfect. Then my phone buzzed. I frowned, checking the screen. Unknown number.
“Marcus Hawthorne speaking,” I answered, keeping my tone professional.
“Good afternoon, sir. This is nurse Joanna from Sterling Medical Center. You’re listed as the emergency contact for Mrs. Juliana Hawthorne. She was brought in earlier today by household staff. She collapsed and…”
I stood up too fast, my heart skipping a beat.
Collapsed?
“What happened?” I asked, instantly regretting the spike in my tone. Savannah looked up from her phone, brows raised.
“She fainted. Severe stress reaction, compounded by dehydration and elevated blood pressure. She's stable now, but we’d like a family member to…”
“I'm currently out of town on business,” I interrupted, regaining control of my voice. “I won’t be able to come in. I suggest you reach out to her second emergency contact… her father.”
A pause. The nurse’s voice softened. “Of course. We just thought you’d want to... ”
“I trust the staff to do what’s necessary,” I cut in. “Thank you.”
And I hung up.
I stared at the phone for a moment, debating whether to feel something... anything. But all I felt was… exhaustion.
Why was I still being pulled into Juliana’s orbit?
She had always been the center of everything. The plans. The finances. The decisions. She never truly made space for me... just built her empire and expected me to orbit it like a grateful satellite.
Savannah, on the other hand, made me the king.
And I was done being Juliana’s footnote.
“What was that?” Savannah asked, stretching out with a lazy smile.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket.
“Work,” I said simply. “Someone else's emergency. Not mine.”
She raised her glass. “To being irreplaceable.”
I clinked my water bottle against hers.
“To us.”
Later that evening, I took Savannah to her favorite rooftop restaurant. I made sure the corner booth was reserved, the one with the perfect skyline view she liked to post on Instagram.
She wore a white dress that clung to every curve, her belly proudly on display. Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, makeup soft and glowing. She looked like the future. My future.
“I was thinking,” she said between bites of her grilled salmon, “maybe we should do a baby shower. Something classy. Exclusive. Press optional.”
I smiled, leaning back. “Whatever you want.”
She giggled, sipping her sparkling water. “You spoil me.”
“You deserve it.”
I meant that.
She knew how to ask for things in a way that made me want to say yes. Not like Juliana, who turned every request into a lecture on compromise and boundaries.
No. This… this was easier.
I fed her dessert off my fork, laughing when she wiped chocolate from my chin. People around us smiled at the display. A power couple in love. No one would guess the drama that lived behind our polished smiles.
And I preferred it that way.
I didn’t think about Juliana again until we returned home.
Savannah kicked off her heels at the door and sank onto the couch with a satisfied sigh.
“You make me feel like a queen,” she murmured.
I sat beside her, brushing her hair from her face.
“You are one,” I said.
She looked at me, eyes wide and soft. “You’re really not going to take her back, are you?”
“No,” I said without hesitation.
