Page 60 of Julian's Curse

“I need to borrow your car to run an errand this afternoon.”

Kali shot me a puzzled look. “It’s a beater car, so I make no guarantees it’ll get you from point A to B,” she chuckled. “But you can have it,” she tossed her car keys in my direction.

I suddenly noticed Amanda circling our desks. Her tall, statuesque frame and long legs gave her an air of elegance as was the norm. Black, silky hair cascaded down her back, framing her sharp, angular features—high cheekbones, a perfectly sculpted jawline, and full lips. Her eyes, dark and intense, seemed to see right through you, always calculating, always aware. Now they were looking directly at me.

“My office, Benton,” she snapped, her tone sharp and irritated. The anger was clear in her eyes, and it was obvious she wasn’t in the mood for any small talk.

Kali’s eye darted to me, now a bit frightened. Did Amanda overhear our conversation about the car? Was something going wrong with the app?

I honestly didn’t think I could be in a more tragic situation than I already was, so I followed her, somewhat numb to what could transpire. We strutted toward her office without a word.

“Close the door,” she instructed me, then encouraged me to take a seat as if there was no time to spare.

“I received a call today from Julian’s staff,” she informed me.

Shit. This was definitely not good.

“They asked me whether I was sellingHart & Quillto you today for 10 million.” Her gaze cut through me. “I don’t get those kinds of calls every day.” There was nothing easy about her.

“Amanda, I can explain, did you tell them you weren’t?” Worry laced my voice. “I needed the reason.” How dumb of me to even think I could get away with such a poorly thought-out plan.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stared at me as if weighing my words, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a slow breath and leaned back in her chair. “I told them I was selling,” she shocked me, her tone still icy. “But you better be prepared for the fallout. Julian’s not an idiot, Lucie.”

I swallowed with relief, my heart pounding.

“I’m guessing you weren’t planning to use the money for a shopping spree?”

I sat silent.

“I,” she said with a triumphant glance, “have instructed Greg to read all employee’s emails since the incident last year.” She was clearly referring to Tarnakis. During that time, I hadn’t told Amanda about an anonymous letter I received at work, and maybe that was what had pushed her to take more control. The fact that I’d kept it to myself only seemed to fuel her need to monitor everything, to dig into the lives of everyone under her command.

I stared at her, wide-eyed and immobilized, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I have nothing more to add,” she remarked, rising to her feet.

I swallowed my nervousness. Was she really letting me off the hook that easily? It seemed almost unbelievable, especially from someone with such a controlling presence. Sophie had been right: Amanda’s drive was fueled by an intense need for control, a trait she shared with many powerful leaders. It was a subtle but undeniable force that shaped her every decision and interaction, pushing her to dominate not just in business, but in every aspect of her life.

“Just maybe one more thing, Lucie,” she backtracked, her voice cool but laced with something I couldn’t quite place.

I glanced up at her.

“Can you kindly write the address for your tomorrow’s interview for me?” She pushed a piece of paper my way.

I didn’t have any interviews scheduled the day after, so this could mean just one thing. She knew everything, but she wasn’t willing to have a conversation about it. There were a million fierce thoughts in her gaze, and the weight of her unfiltered strength hung heavy, impossible to ignore. I instantly loved her so much more because she was showing such protectiveness toward my friend.

“Sure, Amanda.” I gulped, then with my trembling hand, I scribbled down what I remembered from the paper. The act of writing it out made me feel less drained, less alone.

She leaned in to ensure she could read it precisely before finally letting me go.

“Thank you,” I forced out, our eyes locking for the final time. I hadn’t prepared a backup plan, but I knew this was likely it. The woman who had already shaped so much of my life was now, once again, using her power to watch over it.

“Take care, Lucie,” she said, her words carrying a weight of emphasis.

At that moment, I just wanted to crumble into Amanda’s arms and cry. To confess that it had all become toooverwhelming, that I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to save Sophie who was already fragile because of her health. But instead, I stood up to leave, drawing from Amanda’s strength, because it felt like the only way to move forward—to give this ransom exchange my absolute best. And that’s when I felt it—a heavy, sudden gush of blood.

The weight of grief crashed down on me, as I realized, with heartbreaking certainty, that I had lost our baby.

Grief, to some extent, helped to numb my fear. I’d once compared it to molten lava, a searing, unstoppable force. But now, it was something else—quiet, numbing, like a weight pressing down on my chest, leaving little room for anything else.

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