Chapter 3 - The Man Beside Me
Ethan saw Julian first.
I knew because his smile disappeared before his eyes found me.
The Bellmont gala occupied two floors of a Fifth Avenue museum, all marble staircases, white orchids, and people who had learned to speak without ever lowering their champagne glasses.
Julian and I had barely crossed the entrance.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“No.”
“Excellent. Neither am I.”
I smiled.
Then Ethan turned.
For three months I had imagined seeing him again.
In some versions, I was furious.
In others, devastatingly glamorous.
Sometimes he begged.
Sometimes I walked past him without blinking.
Reality was quieter.
My heart simply stumbled once.
Ethan looked thinner.
His tuxedo fit perfectly, but exhaustion had settled around his eyes.
Beside him stood two board members I recognized.
One of them was speaking.
Ethan heard none of it.
His gaze dropped to my hand looped lightly through Julian’s arm.
Then returned to my face.
“Naomi?”
The sound carried farther than he intended.
Three nearby conversations stopped.
Julian glanced at me.
I gave the smallest nod.
We approached.
Ethan looked at Julian.
“You two know each other?”
Julian extended his hand.
“Julian Cross.”
“I know who you are.”
“That saves time.”
They shook.
The tension was ridiculous enough that I nearly laughed.
Ethan looked at me again.
“You changed your hair.”
I had cut six inches off.
“You noticed.”
His jaw tightened.
One of the board members stepped forward.
“Ms. Carter, congratulations on the Bellmont structure. Extraordinary work.”
Ethan’s expression shifted.
“Bellmont structure?”
The man seemed confused.
“Naomi led Cross Meridian’s strategic team.”
For perhaps the first time in our marriage, Ethan was hearing about my professional accomplishment from somebody else.
And he hated not knowing.
“Naomi,” he said quietly, “can we talk?”
Julian looked at me, not Ethan.
My choice.
That mattered.
“Later,” I said.
Ethan stared at me.
Then a photographer called Julian’s name.
We moved away.
I could feel Ethan watching us.
“Still breathing?” Julian asked.
“Unfortunately.”
“That sounded dramatic.”
“I’m practicing.”
He smiled.
We spent the next hour speaking with donors, developers, and nonprofit executives.
Nobody introduced me as Julian’s companion.
They knew me.
That was the part Ethan had not anticipated.
People asked about my work.
A foundation president wanted a meeting.
A developer from Boston asked whether Cross Meridian would consider partnering on a housing initiative.
I was standing alone near the staircase when Ethan finally approached.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No. I’m attending an event.”
“With him.”
“His name is Julian.”
“I know his name.”
“Then why call him ‘him’?”
Ethan exhaled.
“You’re enjoying this.”
The accusation surprised me.
“Enjoying what?”
“Making me watch.”
I stared at him.
There was the Ethan I remembered—not cruel, exactly.
Just convinced every room ultimately revolved around his feelings.
“You think I rebuilt my life for three months so I could ruin your Thursday?”
His face flushed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
He lowered his voice.
“Are you sleeping with him?”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Several people looked over.
Ethan’s face hardened.
“You don’t get to ask me that.”
“We’re still married.”
“We’re separated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. It’s a boundary.”
He looked as though the word offended him.
“Seven years, Naomi.”
“I remember.”
“You walk in here with some billionaire—”
“And suddenly seven years matter?”
“That’s unfair.”
“Was I your wife when you told investors you were single?”
His mouth closed.
“Was I your wife when your company removed me from your biography?”
His eyes flickered.
“Was I your wife when you hid our wedding photograph in a drawer?”
That landed.
He looked away.
“I made mistakes.”
“No. You made decisions.”
“I was trying to build something.”
“So was I.”
“You never wanted this world.”
“You never asked.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Ethan said something that changed the entire conversation.
“I was protecting you.”
I almost missed it beneath the orchestra.
“From what?”
His expression changed.
He glanced toward the crowd.
“Not here.”
“No. You don’t get to drop a mysterious sentence and expect me to follow you into another room.”
“Naomi, there were things happening at the company.”
“What things?”
“Things I thought I could handle.”
“Such as?”
He hesitated.
That was when Julian appeared.
Not possessively.
Not dramatically.
He simply stopped beside me.
“Naomi, Bellmont’s director is looking for you.”
“Thank you.”
Ethan’s gaze moved between us.
“Cross, give us a minute.”
Julian’s expression remained polite.
“That’s Naomi’s decision.”
Something flashed in Ethan’s eyes.
Maybe anger.
Maybe humiliation.
Maybe the realization that another man had just given me the authority he had spent years quietly taking away.
“I’m going back inside,” I said.
Ethan caught my wrist.
Not hard.
But Julian immediately went still.
I looked down at Ethan’s hand.
He released me.
“Sorry.”
I stepped away.
Then Ethan whispered, “Check your email before you trust Cross Meridian.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“There are people using you to get to me.”
Julian heard him.
His expression sharpened.
Ethan walked away before either of us could answer.
An hour later, I returned home.
There was an email waiting from an anonymous address.
No message.
One attachment.
I opened it.
It was an internal Whitmore Capital memorandum dated eighteen months earlier.
My name appeared on the second page.
NAOMI WHITMORE — POTENTIAL LEVERAGE EXPOSURE.
I read the line three times.
Then I saw Julian Cross’s name farther down.
And suddenly Ethan’s claim that he had erased me to protect me did not sound completely impossible.
May you like
It sounded worse.
Because somebody had been watching me long before I knew there was anything to fear.
