Chapter 3

Valerie Vance POV

The next afternoon, Julian returned to the apartment.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes swept over the walls. The colorful sticky notes that used to clutter the space were entirely gone, leaving only faint, clean outlines.

He frowned slightly. "Where are the notes?"

I kept my voice even. "They were getting old. I'm going to rewrite them."

I had already prepared a new batch, but instead of sticking them on the walls, I had organized them neatly in a folder on the dining table.

Inside was a comprehensive guide: his allergies, dietary needs, medication locations, and daily schedules. Every single detail was meticulously written down.

Julian flipped through two pages and tossed it back onto the table.

"Serena is back. I'm planning to make things official with her."

He looked at me, his tone incredibly casual.

"She'll be coming over often from now on. Make sure you take good care of her. She's been pampered since she was a child, so she doesn't know how to manage a household."

I understood.

He wasn't breaking up with me. In his mind, there was never a "relationship" to break up from in the first place.

I was nothing without him. I had no job, no savings, no social circle, and my father's life still depended entirely on his financial support.

I had no choice but to stay.

I listened quietly and nodded. "Okay. I understand."

Julian waited for a few seconds.

I knew what he was waiting for. He expected me to accept his arrangement meekly, just like I always did, and continue to be the obedient, invisible Ms. Vance who revolved entirely around him.

And indeed, my quiet nod gave him exactly what he wanted.

He looked relieved.

He grabbed his car keys and left.

Once the door clicked shut, I stood in the middle of the empty living room, staring at the folder he had discarded after barely glancing at it.

Five pages. It had taken me all night to write.

I walked over, straightened the crumpled edges of the paper, and placed it neatly back on the table.

Then, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to the real estate agent: "How fast can we finalize the sale of my grandmother's cottage?"

The agent replied almost instantly: "Within two weeks."

...

A few days later, Serena Croft indeed showed up.

The moment she stepped through the door, she called out, "Julian!" her voice rising in a sweet, intimate lilt.

In the kitchen, my hand holding the knife froze.

I had been with Julian for five years, and I had never called him by his first name so intimately.

Once, early on, I had tried calling him "Julian" in private. He had met my eyes with a chilling, warning glare. I never dared to do it again.

Serena wandered around the apartment and eventually spotted me in the kitchen. She walked in with a sweet smile.

"You must be Valerie. Julian mentioned you. He said you're incredibly detail-oriented."

She opened the refrigerator, scanned the shelves, and said offhandedly, "You'll have to put in some extra effort for our meals from now on. I'm quite picky. I'll send you a list of my preferences later."

Her tone was so natural, as if I wasn't just Julian's kept woman, but her personal maid as well.

Then, Serena stepped closer to me. She lowered her voice so only the two of us could hear.

"Now that I'm back, you can just focus on managing the household for Julian and me. Don't harbor any other... unrealistic ideas."

She smirked. "You know your own situation. Without Julian, you can't even afford your father's medical bills, right?"

She patted the back of my hand with a mock-sweet smile.

"So, let's both do our jobs. It'll save us both a lot of trouble."

I didn't say a word. I simply sealed the last dish with plastic wrap and placed it in the fridge.

At dinner, I set the dishes on the table and was about to retreat to my room when I saw Serena using Julian's private crystal glass to pour him some water.

My feet felt glued to the floor.

Julian had severe OCD and germophobia. He never shared tableware or glasses with anyone. That was the very first rule I learned when I came to this house.

On my first day, not knowing any better, I had used his personal glass to pour him water. He had looked at it with sheer disgust and poured the entire glass down the sink.

For five years, I had never touched his personal crystal glass again. Not once.

But now, Serena was not only using his glass, she even used her own fork to feed him a piece of foie gras.

Julian accepted it. He took a sip of the water and ate the food, a soft smile actually gracing his lips.

"Delicious," he murmured.

My mind flashed back to a winter when I had a terrible cold that wouldn't go away. I had boiled a pot of hot milk and wanted to share it with him. The moment my fingers brushed against his mug, he had flinched and frowned in disgust.

I had stood frozen in the kitchen for a long time, holding that hot pot of milk. In the end, I drank it all by myself.

It turned out he didn't have germophobia.

He just had germophobia when it came to me.

Serena was the only one for whom his rules simply did not exist.

I walked back to my room and gently closed the door.