Chapter 7 - The First Month
The first thirty days were a chaotic, beautiful, sleep-deprived blur of firsts.
Julian was at their house in Albany every weekend without fail, arriving at seven in the morning with coffee and donuts and a new toy for each boy, leaving at nine on Sunday night with his tie askew and dinosaur stickers on his custom suit jacket. He learned Henry’s favorite color was green, that Leo was allergic to strawberries, that both of them refused to eat anything that looked remotely like a vegetable unless it was covered in cheese and cut into the shape of a star. He went to their soccer games—cheering so loud the other parents stared—and sat through every school performance, videotaping the entire thing on his phone even though the boys were only in the back row holding construction paper flowers.
He was also, Audrey quickly realized, completely out of his depth.
The man who negotiated multi-million dollar deals before breakfast couldn’t figure out how to work a car seat. The man who commanded boardrooms full of powerful executives got flustered when Leo had a meltdown in the grocery store because they were out of his favorite yogurt. The man who’d once told her emotions were “inefficient” cried at Henry’s preschool graduation, sitting in the front row with a tissue pressed to his eyes while his son walked across the stage in a tiny paper cap and gown.
And Audrey? She fell in love with him all over again. Not the polished, perfect version she’d married—the real one. The one who showed up with bedhead and coffee stains on his shirt. The one who sat on the bathroom floor for an hour after the boys threw up from eating too much cotton candy at the fair, holding their hair back and telling them it was okay, that everyone gets sick sometimes. The one who looked at her across the kitchen table at midnight, after the boys were asleep, and said, “I had no idea it was this hard. I had no idea you did all of this alone for four years. I will never, ever take that for granted again.”
They took it slow. They didn’t share a bed. They didn’t talk about moving back in together. They just… were. Together. Present. For the first time since the day she’d walked into that conference room, Audrey felt like she could breathe. Like she didn’t have to carry the whole world on her shoulders anymore.
But nothing good ever lasts forever.
The trouble started on a Tuesday, when Audrey was in the city for a design meeting, and Julian had offered to pick the boys up from school and bring them to his office for a few hours before dinner. She’d hesitated—she still wasn’t ready to expose them to the public side of his life, the paparazzi and the society pages and the endless scrutiny—but he’d promised they’d stay in the private family wing on the top floor, that no one would see them, that he’d ordered all their favorite snacks and had a whole box of new Lego waiting.
She’d said yes. She’d been an idiot to say yes.
She was walking into the Foster Meridian building at five o’clock, her portfolio under her arm, when she heard the voices coming from the reception area. Familiar voices. One was Julian’s, tight and angry. The other—sharp, cold, perfectly enunciated—she’d know anywhere.
Madison Carter.
“…you can’t just bring random children into this office, Julian,” Madison was saying, her voice dripping with disdain. “People are talking. The board is asking questions. Who are they, anyway? Some nanny’s kids? A charity case? You’ve been acting strange for months—disappearing every weekend, missing meetings, turning down the Hong Kong deal—and now this? It’s embarrassing. It’s beneath you.”
“Watch your mouth.” Julian’s voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone he’d only ever used once before—when his father had told him Audrey wasn’t “good enough” to be a Foster. “Those boys are not random children. They are mine. And the woman you’re about to see walk through that door is the only reason I am still standing here, running this company, instead of drinking myself into an early grave. You will speak of them with respect. You will speak of her with respect. Or you will find yourself looking for another job before the end of the day. Do I make myself clear?”
There was a long, loaded silence. Audrey stood frozen behind the marble pillar, her heart hammering. She should walk away. She should call Julian and tell him she was running late, that she’d meet them at the restaurant. But she couldn’t make her feet move.
“Clear,” Madison said finally, her voice icy. “But for the record? She left you. She walked out without a word, without an explanation, and hid your own children from you for four years. That’s not love, Julian. That’s manipulation. That’s punishment. And one day, you’re going to wake up and realize she’s been using those boys as leverage this entire time—”
The sound of a hand connecting with skin echoed through the lobby.
Audrey gasped. She stepped out from behind the pillar.
Julian was standing with his hand raised, his chest heaving, his face white with rage. Madison was clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock, a bright red handprint blooming across her perfect skin. Behind Julian, peeking out from the doorway of the private elevator, were Henry and Leo, their little faces pale, their eyes huge, having seen every second of it.
“Get out,” Julian said, his voice shaking. “Get your things. Get out of my building. And if I ever see you within a hundred feet of my sons or their mother again, I will not just fire you. I will destroy you. Do you understand me?”
Madison didn’t answer. She turned on her heel and walked toward the elevators, her shoulders stiff, her head held high—but not before she glanced over her shoulder and caught Audrey’s eye. The look she gave her was pure poison. A promise. This isn’t over.
Audrey walked quickly to the boys, gathering them into her arms, pressing her face into their hair. “It’s okay,” she whispered, over and over. “Everything’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
Julian turned to them, and the anger drained out of his face, replaced by guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “God, Audrey, I’m so sorry. She shouldn’t have been here. I fired her four years ago, but my father insisted on re-hiring her last year as a ‘consultant’—I should have fought harder. I should have—”
“Hey.” She put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. You protected them. That’s all that matters.”
He looked at her, at the boys clinging to her, and for a moment, she thought he might cry. “I will always protect them,” he said quietly. “All three of you. No matter what it costs me.”
May you like
But as they walked out of the building, the boys chattering excitedly about the Lego they’d built, Audrey couldn’t shake the feeling that Madison Carter’s promise was hanging over them like a storm cloud. That the worst was yet to come.
And she was right.
