Too Late CEO: I Am Taking Everything

The darkness of the night finally broke. Bright, piercing autumn sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stabbing into Eleonora's swollen eyes. She woke up alone in the center of the king-size bed. The sheets on Julian's side were cold to the touch. She sat up, her body aching from a night of rigid tension. She pulled a cashmere shawl tightly around her shoulders and walked slowly out of the bedroom. As she descended the sweeping spiral staircase, the murmur of voices drifted up from the first floor. Eleonora's bare feet stopped dead on the marble steps. Down in the living room, Mrs. Gable was setting a tray of Wedgwood bone china teacups on the coffee table. The housekeeper looked up, her expression strained and deeply apologetic. "Ma'am, I am so sorry. I told her to wait in the lobby, but Mr. Sinclair had given her the private elevator bypass code," Mrs. Gable murmured nervously. Sitting on the plush velvet sofa was a woman wearing a beige trench coat. The woman had her back to the stairs. Her shoulders were narrow, her posture delicate. Eleonora's breath caught. Even in a different coat, the familiar tilt of the head, the delicate curve of the shoulders—it was the same posture from the video. Her mind flashed to the name Sloane had sent her last night: Seraphina Sinclair. It was her. Eleonora's pupils contracted violently. Her fingernails dug so hard into the wooden banister that her knuckles turned white. The woman in the white dress. The two-million-dollar necklace. The tuberose perfume. It all slammed together in her brain with the force of a physical explosion. The woman turned her head. It was Seraphina Sinclair. Julian's stepsister, who had supposedly just returned from a psychiatric facility in Switzerland. Seraphina stood up. A flawless, sickeningly sweet smile spread across her perfectly made-up face. "Good morning, Eleonora," Seraphina chirped. Her voice was soft, coated in a layer of sugary poison. Eleonora took a deep, jagged breath. She forced the raging fire in her chest down into her stomach. She walked down the remaining steps, her slippers slapping quietly against the floor. She gave Seraphina a curt, dismissive nod and sat down in the single armchair opposite the sofa. Seraphina didn't seem to mind the cold reception. She reached into her Hermès Birkin bag and pulled out a dark blue velvet jewelry box. She pushed the box across the glass coffee table. With a sharp snap, the box sprang open. The massive blue sapphire necklace lay nestled against the white satin. The morning sun hit the jewels, sending blinding, fractured light dancing across the walls. Eleonora's breath hitched. The visual confirmation felt like a physical blow to the ribs. "I just came to return this," Seraphina said softly. "Julian bought it last night, but I just wanted to try it on for the evening to keep up appearances. I brought it back for you." Seraphina's eyes gleamed with a hidden, vicious triumph. Bile rose in Eleonora's throat. She stared at the necklace as if it were a coiled viper ready to strike. "If Julian bought it for me," Eleonora said, her voice dripping with ice, "why would his stepsister need to try it on for him?" Seraphina's eyes instantly filled with tears. She bit her lower lip, looking like a terrified, cornered animal. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could formulate a lie, the heavy oak doors of Julian's study swung open. Julian strode out into the living room. He was wearing a dark grey dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His eyes bypassed Eleonora completely and locked onto Seraphina. A deep crease formed between his brows. He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped right in front of Seraphina. "What are you doing here?" Julian demanded, his voice thick with panic and anger. "You haven't recovered yet. Why aren't you resting at the hotel?" Seraphina reached out and grabbed the cuff of Julian's shirt. She tilted her head up, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "I was just afraid Eleonora would misunderstand about the necklace," Seraphina whimpered. "I wanted to bring it to her myself." Julian immediately grabbed Seraphina's wrist. He turned her arm over, checking her pulse, inspecting her skin. The movement was so natural, so deeply ingrained, it looked like muscle memory. He completely ignored his pregnant wife sitting less than three feet away. The sight of his large hand wrapped around Seraphina's delicate wrist felt like a knife twisting in Eleonora's gut. The last, pathetic shred of hope she had held onto shattered into dust. Eleonora let out a short, harsh laugh. The sound cut through the room like a gunshot. Julian flinched. He dropped Seraphina's wrist as if he had been burned. He turned to look at Eleonora, a flash of raw panic crossing his face. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. Eleonora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She stared at them, her eyes burning with contempt. "So," Eleonora said, her voice dangerously quiet. "You told me you were bidding on this necklace for Jax Mercer. How exactly did it end up around your sister's neck?" Julian's jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck stood out tight and rigid. His lie had been dragged out into the light, and he had nowhere to hide. He opened his mouth, but Seraphina beat him to it. Seraphina gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god," she whispered, looking at Julian with wide, innocent eyes. "Julian, you didn't tell her? You lied to her about me?" The words were a calculated, lethal strike. She had just nailed Julian to the cross of his own deception. "Shut up, Seraphina!" Julian roared. The volume of his voice shook the windows. He turned to the hallway. "Mrs. Gable! Get the driver. Take Seraphina back to her hotel immediately." Seraphina knew she had won. She stood up obediently. She gave Julian a tearful nod, then shot Eleonora a look of pure, unadulterated malice before turning and walking out the front door. The heavy door clicked shut. The living room fell into a suffocating, dead silence. Julian ripped his tie loose from his collar. He walked toward Eleonora, reaching his hand out to touch her shoulder. Eleonora shot up from the chair. She took a massive step backward, putting the coffee table between them. "Don't touch me," she hissed. "Explain. Now." Julian took a deep, ragged breath. He ran a hand through his hair. "You know what my family owes her mother," Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, pleading register. "Her mother was crippled in that car accident saving my life. Seraphina just went through a brutal divorce. She's mentally fragile. I have a responsibility to take care of her." Eleonora stared at the velvet box on the table. The absurdity of his words made her physically dizzy. "You need to take care of her?" Eleonora repeated, her voice rising. "So you buy her a two-million-dollar necklace and lie to your wife's face?" Julian's face hardened. His guilt quickly morphed into defensive anger. "You're being overly sensitive, Nora," he snapped. "You are the wife of the Sinclair family heir. You need to show some grace. She is just my sister." The sheer audacity of his words ignited a blinding rage in Eleonora's brain. She lunged forward. She grabbed the heavy velvet jewelry box off the table and hurled it directly at Julian's chest. The box slammed into his sternum with a heavy thud. The necklace flew out, hitting the floor and skidding across the hardwood. "Pay your own debts, Julian," Eleonora spat, her chest heaving. "Don't use my marriage as a stepping stone to ease your guilt." She turned on her heel and marched toward the stairs. She didn't look back at the pale, furious man standing amidst the scattered jewels.