Love at the Wrong Time, No Obsession, No Regrets

"My baby girl will be raised in luxury—of course, she can't share a room with my son. I'll prepare two separate rooms, one for each of them."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but laugh. "And what if we have two sons instead?"

Simon's face flickered with mild displeasure before he sighed helplessly. "Then congratulations, Miss Stewart. You'll have three bodyguards protecting you for the rest of your life."

Back then, his world revolved around me. His eyes held nothing but love, his heart filled only with me. But now, in just a year, he had become a completely different person. A stranger. A monster.

Hot tears dripped onto the back of my cold hand, the contrast searing into my skin. My breath hitched, my chest tightening with pain.

The sweet whispers of the past tangled with the cruel words of the present, blurring the line between memory and reality. My vision swam and my knees buckled as I struggled to lean against the wall before I collapsed entirely.

At that moment, movement came from the study. Simon hung up the phone and stepped out.

When he saw me standing in the doorway, something flickered in his gaze—unease, guilt. "Julia, why are you here?"

Through my tear-filled eyes, his face blurred, his expression unreadable. I parted my lips, wanting to speak, but the words lodged in my throat like jagged glass. No sound came out.

Seeing my distress, Simon’s brows knitted with concern. He reached out, his grip firm yet gentle as he held me up. "Julia, did you have a nightmare? Don’t be afraid, I’m here. No one can hurt you."

Every time they drugged me, I would lose an entire day—slipping into darkness, waking up only to giggle mindlessly like a fool. And sometimes, in rare moments of clarity, I would wake up crying, seeking comfort in his arms. So now, as always, he assumed I was merely shaken by another bad dream.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, forcing my emotions down. I nodded slightly, playing along.

At my response, he sighed in relief, his tension easing. "Honestly, how can you still be so easily scared by nightmares? Leo is braver than you. You should learn from him."

Since I had been reduced to this mindless state, his son and his mistress had come and gone as they pleased.

I had been too far gone to understand—to object. Instead, I had welcomed them with open arms, smiling like a fool. The memories weighed on me like a stone, pressing down on my chest until I could hardly breathe.

I pursed my lips, refusing to speak. But Simon, his mind preoccupied with them, failed to notice the shift in my demeanor.

"Julia, Leo and his mother will be coming for dinner later. Go set out their slippers." His voice was light, coaxing—just as one would speak to a child.

A chill ran through my spine. He took advantage of my supposed stupidity, using me as their personal servant. If they were thirsty, I poured their drinks. If the floor was dirty, I swept and mopped. Even their arrival required my service—I had to personally greet them with slippers in hand. The sight of his familiar yet foreign face sent fresh waves of anger crashing through me.

I opened my mouth, ready to refuse—but before I could speak, a sharp, arrogant voice cut through the air.

"Where are my slippers?! Julia, hurry up and bring them to me, or I’ll have my father beat you to death!" Leo’s words rang through the house, laced with the entitlement of a child raised without consequence.

I stood frozen, my expression unreadable. Slowly, I turned my gaze toward Simon, waiting to see his reaction.

Instead of reprimanding the boy, he simply watched me, his eyes darkening with impatience. "Didn’t you hear him? Go bring his slippers."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. But I didn’t move. I simply stared at him. Leo, growing impatient, stormed into the house, his little footsteps echoing across the floor.