Julie Morgan stepped into the grand halls of the Taylor Estate for what she knew would be the final time, a bone-deep chill settling in her chest.
A handful of staff lingered nearby, whispering under their breath:
"Did you hear Mr. Taylor was with Miss Chavez last night? Why the hell is she back here, anyway?"
"Must not care if she makes a fool of herself. He gave her an opportunity, and she still won't take it."
"Pretty ballsy."
"Let's just see how long she lasts..."
Julie climbed the stairs to the master suite—stairs she’d walked up every single day for seven years—but they’d never felt half as steep, half as daunting, as they did right now.
Aitana Lee, the housekeeper, trailed right behind her. When Julie reached for the bedroom doorknob, Aitana stepped right into her path. "Miss Morgan, Mr. Taylor isn’t here right now. It ain’t proper for you to go in. If anything goes wrong, we can’t be held responsible."
Julie had made up her mind yesterday to end things with Cameron Taylor for good. It was only now that she was seeing this side of Aitana. The housekeeper who’d once greeted her with open warmth now only looked at her with open disdain.
Julie held her gaze steady. "Don’t worry. I’m just here to pick up my things."
Aitana sneered. "Oh, I didn’t realize Miss Morgan owned anything here that she bought with her own money."
The Taylors had supported Julie for over a decade. If she had any sense, she’d walk away empty-handed and let Sophie Chavez take her place as Cameron’s fiancée. No fuss, no fight.
Julie’s eyes hardened, every last trace of warmth draining away. "Aitana. Servants shouldn’t speak out of turn."
Whatever drama was between her and Cameron was none of this woman’s business.
Aitana’s face went white as a sheet. Resentment flashed hot in her eyes before she dropped her gaze, stiff and respectful. "Mr. Taylor..."
Julie turned around.
Cameron Taylor was standing right behind her.
Morning light flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding his tall, sharp-edged figure in warm gold.
For a split second, Julie swore his sharp features and piercing eyes looked less cold than usual.
"Leave us," he dismissed Aitana with a cool flick of his wrist, that commanding aura of his never fading, even when he was reprimanding someone.
"Aitana has worked here for seven years. You have no right to speak to her like that."
So what?
Julie almost laughed at how absurd it was.
Should she remind him she’d been part of the Taylor family for thirteen years? That she was once his fiancée?
And still, she mattered less to him than a damn housekeeper.
That’s enough. She’d accepted it.
What was she even still holding out hope for?
If she meant anything at all to Cameron, he wouldn’t have thrown her aside for Sophie Chavez yesterday, throwing away thirteen years of her devotion like it meant nothing.
Maybe the sardonic twist to her mouth was too obvious, because Cameron’s jaw tightened and his expression darkened. He grabbed her arm roughly.
"The Taylors indulged you far too much."
Sharp pain shot up her arm. Julie bit down hard on her lip, a soft whimper slipping out before she could stop it.
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her face drained of all color from the ache.
Cameron’s brow furrowed, his gaze growing even darker—there was that familiar mix of disdain and contempt… and something else, something unreadable.
"Ah—" Before Julie could pick apart what that look meant, he wrenched her right against his chest.
"No…" Julie tried to shove him away.
"You need money, don’t you?" he murmured, that usual contempt of his laced through with impatience. "I’ve got important stuff to handle. Don’t waste my time."
Humiliation burned hot up her throat, but Julie couldn’t fight him off.
After the cold, harsh encounter, Cameron got up indifferently, pulled on his clothes, and tossed a black credit card down onto the bed beside her.
Julie could feel every bruise and scratch on her body throbbing even worse now—last night, she’d been in a car crash, nearly lost her life.
She didn’t want Cameron to see and think she was faking being a victim just to win him back.
The black card glinted with quiet, understated luxury.
But Julie, wrapped tight in a cotton sheet, said nothing.
When she didn’t respond, Cameron got annoyed.
"It’s for your sister’s surgery," he said, unexpected explanation slipping out.
"That won’t be necessary," Julie said, her voice calm and steady.
His fingers paused halfway through fastening his shirt buttons, that icy gaze of his locking right on her.
Julie clarified, her tone still composed: "The lead surgeon’s out of the country. He can’t do the procedure right now."
The past was all behind them...
Last night, her sister Maryam had been critical. Desperate and sobbing, Julie had gone to Cameron’s private club, begged to see him, hoped he could pull strings to get the doctor to stay, to save Maryam.
He never even showed up. All he sent was a message through his assistant: Break up off leave. It’s her choice.
If Maryam hadn’t pulled through last night...
Julie took a deep, steadying breath.
Whatever. He had no idea how horrific her night had been. And he wouldn’t care even if he did.
For him, it would just be another thing to hold against her, another reason to look down on her.
"My grandfather’s eightieth birthday is next month," Cameron said, tossing the line over his shoulder right before he left. "Keep the card."
Translation: Don’t cause any trouble with my family.
He’d come back, given her money, fucked her, just to shut her up. Make sure she didn’t become a problem for the Taylors.
But Julie knew she was done.
Thirteen years of trying to win Cameron’s heart had all been for nothing. She wasn’t going to waste another single second of her life on him.
...
Hauling her suitcase over, she pulled open the closet door. The sight of all the white dresses lining the rails knocked the breath right out of her.
Anyone who knew her knew she loved white. White gowns, white blouses, white evening dresses...
Very few people knew her obsession with white started with a compliment Cameron gave her at her twelfth birthday party, when he told her she looked beautiful in her pearlescent white princess dress.
"You look lovely in white," she could still remember his tone, his warm gaze back then—full of approval, admiration, encouragement.
From that second on, her wardrobe turned into a sea of white.
Just like her entire heart had been reserved for one man and one man only.
He didn’t like bright colors, so she kept everything simple. He didn’t like heavy makeup, so she went bare-faced most days. He hated women drawing attention, so she gave up her hobbies and her dream career. He hated her going out with friends, so she cut every single one of them off...
Only when she saw Sophie Chavez, bright and colorful and vibrant at his side, did Julie realize Cameron liked all kinds of colors.
She’d remade herself into exactly what she thought he wanted, and he still chose someone else.
She’d convinced herself she could be Cameron’s quiet muse forever, but he’d rather have a bold red rose.
All those little dislikes he had? They were never about the things. They were about her. Everything she did was wrong, because it was her doing it.
Sunlight spilled all across the big bedroom, like it was washing her clean from her skin all the way down to her soul.
For a moment, Julie smiled.
She left.
She took nothing but the new beginning she’d claimed for herself, let go of all the dead, rotting feelings… and left the credit card right where he’d tossed it.
From that day on, she was going to live for herself.
