— Come pick me up at 6 Laurel Avenue.

The message was from Julian Marks, Lydia Moore’s husband.

Lydia had just walked out of the Alliance Biomedical Research Institute. Her phone screen, darkened from inactivity, reflected the faint furrow between her brows.

She had been buried in the lab for days, chasing experimental data and barely sleeping at night. All she wanted was to go home, collapse on her bed, and finally sleep a full night — not drive across town to fetch Julian from a private dinner.

It only took her two seconds to decide. If she didn’t go, she probably wouldn’t get to sleep at all tonight.

The streets were clear under the late-night glow.

When Lydia arrived at 6 Laurel Avenue, it was a little past eleven.

“Right this way, ma’am.”

The restaurant manager led her through the softly lit corridor of Crescent Residence, stopping before a private room.

As soon as the door opened, a cool, low male voice drifted out. Lydia lifted her gaze instinctively — and froze mid-step.

“Mr. Marks, I’ll be counting on your guidance from now on.” Adrian Cole raised his glass, his tone smooth and polite. “This one’s to you.”

Julian clinked glasses with him, smiling faintly. “Mr. Cole, you flatter me. I’m the one who should be relying on you.”

Adrian tilted his head back, downing the drink in one go. Julian only took a symbolic sip before setting his glass down — then his eyes flicked sharply toward the doorway.

A woman stood there, wearing a slate-blue trench coat, her delicate face half-hidden behind thick black-rimmed glasses.

Julian’s gaze lingered for a beat, the expression in his eyes shifting almost imperceptibly. He turned to Adrian.

Their eyes met briefly. Then Adrian’s attention moved — toward the woman — before he looked away again.

Julian’s lips curved, a hint of amusement glinting there. He called out softly, “Lydia—”

Her eyes met his from across the room.

“Come here.”

Lydia hesitated, then stepped forward.

Julian slipped an arm around her waist and turned back to the others. “My wife, Lydia Moore.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room.

Few had expected Julian Marks—Southport’s most notorious charmer—to be married at all, much less to someone so seemingly ordinary.

Even standing together, the two looked like an odd pairing.

“Mr. Marks, you’re married?” one man asked, incredulous. “Since when?”

Julian thought for a moment. “Almost three years. We just signed the papers. Haven’t had a wedding yet.”

“Well then,” the man chuckled, “be sure to invite us when you do. We’ll be waiting for the celebration.”

“Of course,” Julian replied easily. “You’ll all drink to your hearts’ content.”

After a few more pleasantries, he gestured to Lydia. “Honey, this is Adrian Cole, CEO of Genwell Pharmaceuticals.”

Beneath her glasses, Lydia’s lashes trembled slightly. She lifted her gaze.

Adrian extended his hand politely. “Mrs. Marks.”

She looked at him for two long seconds before placing her hand in his.

He gave the faintest, formal shake, then withdrew.

Lydia’s fingers twitched in the pocket of her coat, as if still feeling the ghost of his touch.

On the drive back, Lydia kept her eyes on the road. Julian reeked of alcohol, yet still looked sharp — lounging back in his seat, scrolling lazily through his phone.

Her focus drifted, and what should have been a forty-minute drive stretched nearly an hour. By the time they reached Crescent Court, it was close to 1 a.m.

Julian went upstairs first. Lydia sat in the car for half a minute before following.

The shower steamed with warmth.

She stood under the water, eyes closed — Adrian’s face flashing in her mind, and the look in his eyes when they met.

Julian untied his robe, his gaze trailing over her face beneath the spray. With an unhurried motion, he let the robe fall aside and stepped into the shower.

“Ah—!”

Lydia gasped as his chest pressed against her back, trapping her between him and the cool tile. Her elbow hit the wall, and pain flickered through her brow.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?” Julian murmured, his hand sliding around her waist, voice slow and teasing. “Didn’t even notice me come in.”

She brushed water from her lashes, forcing her eyes open. “The lab.”

“Oh?” His tone was casual, but his eyes darkened. “Is that so?”

“Mm.” She pushed gently at his chest. “Not tonight, Julian. I’m not in the mood.”

“What’s inconvenient?” His hand lingered against her ribs, sliding lower. “Here—or…”

“Julian!” Lydia caught his wrist, her voice tightening.

He looked down at her. “Hm?”

“I don’t want to,” she said quietly.

He tilted her chin up and brushed her lips with his. “But I do.”

His breath enveloped her, familiar and heavy.

The rest came like muscle memory.

By the time it was over, dawn was breaking.

Julian glanced at the sleeping Lydia, then slipped out of bed, threw on his robe, and left her room.

Downstairs, he grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge, drank half of it, and dialed back a missed call.

After two rings, the line connected.

Sitting on a barstool, he swirled the bottle in his hand. “So?” he asked.

Lydia didn’t wake until late afternoon.

She stared blankly at the ceiling before forcing herself up, every muscle aching. After washing up, she ate a light meal and drove out.

At the downtown spa, Monica Hayes glanced at her distracted friend and smirked. “You and Julian seem to be doing really well lately…”

Lydia blinked. “What?”

Monica’s eyes darted to Lydia’s neck. “You’ve got the look of someone who had a wild night.”

Lydia froze, tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders, and silently cursed Julian under her breath.

Monica chuckled, adjusting her facial mask. “You know he’s got someone new again, right?”

Lydia’s tone was calm. “Who?”

“Rumor says she’s a college student.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Ran into them at a lounge last week,” Monica said. “She told everyone she was just his friend. Sweet girl—different from his usual type.”

Lydia gave a faint “Mm.”

Monica hesitated. “I’ll never understand why you married him.”

Their marriage had been sudden; even Monica hadn’t known until afterward. They’d never held a wedding, and the public had no idea that Julian Marks was already married.

“Anyway,” Monica said, shrugging. “Not my problem.” Then, her tone brightened. “Oh—have you met Vanessa’s fiancé yet? She said they met back when she was studying in Southport.”

“Southport?” Lydia’s heart skipped. “What’s his name?”

“She didn’t say—super secretive. Guess we’ll find out tonight.”

By the time they left the spa, the city was glowing with evening lights.

At The Orchid House Restaurant, Vanessa Price was already there.

“Monica!” Vanessa hugged her warmly, then turned to Lydia with a smile. “Lydia, it’s been too long.”

Lydia nodded. She opened her mouth to reply—then froze when she saw the man standing behind Vanessa.

Adrian Cole.

Tall, composed, in a navy dress shirt. His expression was cool and unreadable.

Monica’s eyes lit up as she glanced between them. “Vanessa, aren’t you going to introduce this handsome gentleman?”

Vanessa smiled, looping her arm through Adrian’s. “Lydia, Monica—this is my fiancé, Adrian Cole.”

She turned to Lydia. “Though, I think you two have already met.”

Adrian inclined his head politely. “Mrs. Marks.”

Lydia met his eyes briefly, her expression unreadable.

Then Vanessa gestured toward Monica. “And this is my best friend, Monica Hayes.”

Adrian nodded. “Ms. Hayes.”

Monica grinned. “Vanessa, you’ve been holding out on us! Not even a photo?”

“Wasn’t intentional,” Vanessa said lightly, glancing at Lydia again. “There were… circumstances.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Monica said cheerfully, dragging Lydia toward the table. “Let’s eat—I’m starving.”

Vanessa handed Lydia the menu. “Order anything you like. Dinner’s on Adrian.”

Lydia stared at the menu, then at Vanessa.

“Lydia?”

“Just a couple dishes,” Lydia said quietly, passing it to Monica.

Dinner went smoothly enough — laughter, small talk, the clinking of glasses. Mostly Monica and Vanessa chatting.

Lydia stayed quiet. So did Adrian, except when spoken to. His focus rarely left Vanessa, even as he peeled shrimp for her or refilled her glass.

Halfway through the meal, Lydia’s phone buzzed twice.

Julian Marks: At The Orchid House for dinner?

She locked her screen without replying.

The chatter and laughter began to grate on her nerves. Each time she heard Adrian’s voice, something in her tightened.

She was just about to leave when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“Mr. Cole. What a coincidence—you’re here too?”

When Adrian Cole saw who had arrived, his gaze faltered briefly. He set down his chopsticks and stood up politely. “Mr. Marks.”

Julian Marks waved a hand, motioning for him not to get up, and walked straight to Lydia Moore’s side, settling casually into the empty seat next to her. His arm draped easily across the back of her chair.

“I heard from Lydia that she was having dinner with some friends here,” he said, smiling with practiced ease. “I happened to be meeting a client at the same restaurant tonight, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello. Didn’t expect to find out it was you, Mr. Cole.” His tone carried an undertone of amusement.

Vanessa Price, who of course knew Julian, quickly explained, “I was the one who invited Monica and Lydia. Adrian and I are getting married soon, so I wanted to have dinner together before things get hectic. If I’d known you were here too, Mr. Marks, I would’ve asked Lydia to bring you along.”

Julian picked up Lydia’s teacup and took a leisurely sip. “So,” he asked, smiling faintly, “when’s the wedding, Ms. Hayes?”

Vanessa laughed. “Next spring. I’m counting on both Monica and Lydia to be my bridesmaids.”

Monica Hayes glanced sideways at Lydia and smirked. “No problem. As long as you don’t mind your bridesmaids outshining the bride.”

Vanessa chuckled and turned to Lydia. “And you, Lydia?”

Lydia looked up and met her gaze evenly, her expression unreadable.

Julian’s voice came in before she could answer, warm and indulgent. “Lydia’s going to have to skip it. We’re actually planning to have a baby soon, and she might be… a little unavailable by then.”

Lydia froze and turned toward him. “What?”

Julian arched an eyebrow, his tone light but pointed. “Isn’t that right, Lydia?”

Monica glanced between them, opening her mouth as if to say something but then thinking better of it.

Vanessa blinked in surprise, then quickly smiled again. “That’s wonderful! Monica and I will be honored to become honorary aunts. With looks like yours and Julian’s, your baby’s going to be absolutely adorable.”

Adrian raised his glass with a polite smile. “Congratulations in advance, Mr. and Mrs. Marks.”

Julian lifted Lydia’s teacup in response, his lips curving. “Thanks — same to you.”

Monica groaned dramatically. “Oh, come on, you two, have some mercy on us single people, will you?”

Her interjection broke the tension around the “baby” topic, and the conversation moved on.

After a while, Lydia excused herself to go to the restroom.

Inside, the room was quiet except for the sound of running water. She stood under the automatic faucet, rubbing her hands over and over without realizing it, until her skin turned red.

The door opened. Julian stepped inside.

Lydia turned her head slightly, her tone even. “This is the ladies’ room.”

Julian smiled faintly, his dark eyes glinting as he stepped closer. “I know.”

He caught her wrist before she could move away. She tried to pull free, but his grip tightened.

Looking down at her reddened hands, his lips curved in a half-smile. “Lydia, mourning an old lover right in front of your husband — don’t you think that’s a bit inappropriate?”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve been checking up on me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” His tone turned sharp. “Don’t forget who you are, Lydia.”

“I haven’t,” she said quietly.

“Good.”

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and tilted her chin upward, lowering his head to kiss her.

She flinched and stepped back instinctively, startled by her own reaction.

Julian’s expression didn’t change — not the faintest flicker of emotion disturbed his smooth, handsome face. But a second later, his hand clamped around her jaw, and his mouth crushed down on hers.

Lydia struggled to push him away, but he held her fast, backing her against the cold wall.

“Mm—”

She gasped in pain. His teeth caught her lip hard enough to break the skin, the metallic tang of blood blooming between them.

The kiss was deep, forceful — almost punishing. Her knees went weak. She kicked at him, and only then did he finally release her, giving her a chance to breathe.

Julian’s half-lidded eyes studied her swollen, blood-tinged lips, unreadable.

He brushed his thumb across them, his voice low and teasing. “You know, Lydia — your lips are softer than I remembered.”

She pushed him away and walked to the mirror. Her lower lip was visibly red and swollen — impossible to hide. She cupped some water and carefully rinsed the cut.

Julian came up behind her, leaning one arm on the counter, trapping her reflection between his arms. “What’s wrong?” he murmured lazily. “Afraid your old flame will notice what we’ve been doing?”

She met his gaze in the mirror. “Not everyone is as shameless as you.”

He laughed — a real laugh, head tilted against her shoulder, shaking with amusement.

Lydia didn’t see what was funny. Her chest ached with frustration, and yet… the man’s face was infuriatingly handsome, especially when he smiled.

“You should try it sometime,” Julian said with a grin. “A thicker skin can work wonders. If we’re not embarrassed, everyone else will be.”

Lydia had no words for that. She pushed past him and walked out of the restroom.

Julian followed. As they were approaching the dining area, his phone rang.

Lydia didn’t look back, but she heard his voice behind her — suddenly soft, patient, almost gentle.

“Hey, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Take your time.”