The Billionaire Who Timed My Love And Gave Hers For Free Chapter 07

The Billionaire Who Timed My Love And Gave Hers For Free Chapter 07

The next time I saw Julian was at the law firm.

Camille came with me.

“If you start feeling off, tell me. Don’t push through it. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I nodded.

Julian was five minutes late.

That wasn’t like him.

A man who ran his marriage on a thirty–minute timer didn’t show up late to anything.

He walked in with circles under his eyes so dark they looked bruised.

I didn’t feel sorry for him.

The lawyer slid the papers across the table.

“Mr. Whitmore, Ms. Langley’s terms are straightforward.”

“No custody issues. Clean division of assets. If you agree, we can wrap this up today.”

No custody issues. The phrase landed on Julian like a fist.

“I don’t agree,” he said quietly.

I wasn’t surprised.

Julian didn’t let anyone derail his meeting agendas. He certainly wasn’t going to let me walk out of a

marriage without his sign–off.

The lawyer frowned.

“Mr. Whitmore, a divorce doesn’t require both parties to agree.”

Julian didn’t look at the lawyer.

He was looking at me.

“Mara. Let’s talk. Just us.”

“No.”

“There are things I need to say that aren’t meant for an audience.”

Camille’s voice cut in like a blade.

“She went into the ER surrounded by strangers. You didn’t seem too worried about what was

appropriate that night.”

Julian’s jaw set.

“Ms. Sutton, this is between Mara and me.

I cut him off.

“She’s not an outsider.”

I pulled a form from my bag and set it on the table.

“She’s my emergency contact.

Julian went still.

His eyes found the line.

Emergency contact: Camille Sutton. Relationship: Friend.

That hurt him worse than the divorce papers. I could see it.

“You replaced me?”

I met his eyes.

“Wasn’t I always too much of a hassle for you?”

His mouth pressed into a line.

“I used to be terrified of bothering you. I’d be doubled over in pain and still watch the clock, waiting for seven. I don’t have to do that anymore.”

Julian’s fist clenched under the table.

His phone rang.

The screen lit up. Sloane.

He glanced down and declined.

A few seconds later, it rang again.

He killed it again.

Before, he would’ve been on his feet already.

Grabbing his coat, telling me not to make a scene.

This time, he powered the phone off and laid it facedown on the table.

“I’m not taking it.”

The words came out fast, desperate, like a man making the right call three days too late.

I felt nothing.

A choice made too late doesn’t feel like love. It feels like damage control.

And I was done being managed.

I looked at him.

“You’re not ignoring her calls because I matter to you. You’re doing it because you finally realized

I’m actually leaving.”

Something cracked behind his eyes.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

His voice splintered.

“I want to be with you.”

I looked at him, and all I felt was exhaustion. Bone–deep, three–years–in–the–making exhaustion.

“Julian, I gave you so many chances.”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

I stood up.

“What if I gave you all of it?” His voice caught. “All my time. Every minute.”

I paused.

His eyes, for the first time, looked scared.

“I don’t want it anymore.”

Outside the building, Camille slid her arm through mine.

“You okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

Julian didn’t follow us out.

He stayed in the conference room, opened his calendar, and started deleting. One appointment at a

time.

7:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. 7:30 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. 8:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m.

The entire evening, wiped clean.

He screenshotted the empty calendar and sent it to the lawyer.

[Tell her I’m free all night.]

A few minutes later, the reply came back.

[Ms. Langley says signing only takes a second.]