CHAPTER 8 — The Call
The mansion felt quieter after Alex left. Too quiet.
Julia hadn’t realized how much noise laughter made until it was gone. Alex had been the type to fill every silence — with stories, witty remarks, or simply that light energy that wrapped around her like sunlight she didn’t ask for but secretly liked.
Now that he was gone, the walls seemed to echo with their conversations. The staff still moved about as usual, cheerful and chatty, but the absence lingered like a shadow that refused to fade.
Still, Julia wasn’t the type to sulk. If silence wanted to play with her, she’d play back — with sarcasm.
That morning, she was in the kitchen again, sleeves rolled up and hair tied loosely, helping Suni prepare breakfast. The staff had stopped treating her like a delicate ornament long ago. Julia wasn’t a lady who sat still while others worked; she liked doing things, moving, keeping her hands busy — as if that was the only way to stop her mind from drifting somewhere it shouldn’t.
Suni was slicing vegetables beside her. “Miss Julia, you’ve gotten really good at this,” she said with a grin. “If Mr. Adrian ever kicks us all out, you could open a restaurant.”
Julia arched an eyebrow. “Oh, please. I’d rather starve than have my name on a restaurant menu.”
Lita laughed from across the counter. “Come on, you’d love it. Julia Sandrigal’s Kitchen — sounds fancy.”
Julia smirked. “Sounds expensive. And pretentious.”
“That’s the point,” Suni teased. “Rich people love ‘pretentious’.”
Julia rolled her eyes, but her lips curved. “Well, then I’ll sell them burnt toast and call it minimalist cuisine.”
The maids burst into laughter. Julia’s chuckle joined theirs — low, effortless, unguarded. Moments like this made the mansion feel less like a prison and more like… life.
After they finished cooking, Julia wiped her hands and leaned on the counter. “Where’s my coffee?”
“Coming right up,” Lita said, sliding a cup toward her. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Julia took a sip. “Good. That’s how I like it — scalding, bitter, and dangerous.”
Suni exchanged a knowing glance with Lita. “Just like you, Miss Julia?”
Julia smirked. “Exactly.”
The room filled with soft laughter again — until Suni’s tone shifted. “Oh, before I forget…” She reached into her apron and pulled out a sleek black phone. “This came from Mr. Adrian’s assistant. He said it’s yours.”
Julia blinked. “Mine?”
“Yes. They said it’s been updated and… that he might call you.”
Julia set her coffee down slowly. “Oh, how thoughtful,” she said flatly. “A phone to receive orders from my very kind husband. Lovely.”
The maids exchanged nervous glances, but Julia’s smirk told them she wasn’t actually angry — just amused. She accepted the phone, flipped it in her hand, and sighed.
“Well,” she muttered, “let’s see if he finally remembers I exist.”
She barely finished speaking when the phone buzzed in her hand.
Julia stared at it. “Oh, speak of the devil.”
Suni whispered, “You’re not gonna—”
“Oh, I’m gonna,” Julia interrupted, swiping the screen and answering the call.
“Julia.”
The voice was deep, clipped, and familiar — Adrian’s.
Julia leaned on the counter, swirling her coffee cup lazily. “Well, look who finally decided to remember his wife’s number. I was starting to think you’d died.”
A pause. Then a sigh. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy,” she repeated, her tone dripping with mock admiration. “Of course. Saving the world? Buying another company? Or just running away from home again?”
“Watch your tone,” Adrian said sharply.
Julia smiled into her cup. “Why? It’s the only thing keeping me entertained lately.”
Another pause. The silence between them felt like static — tense, heavy, and electric.
Then Adrian spoke, voice low. “We’re going out tomorrow.”
Julia blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Tomorrow. Seven in the evening. Dress appropriately.”
“Oh, how romantic,” she said dryly. “You vanish for weeks, then suddenly decide to take me out like a proper couple. Should I bring flowers too?”
“Julia.”
“Yes, husband dearest?”
He exhaled audibly. “Just be ready.”
“Sure thing, my very kind husband.” She hung up before he could reply.
Suni stared. “You hung up on him.”
Julia shrugged. “He’s used to it.”
Lita giggled nervously. “You two… are something else.”
Julia smiled faintly. “Something chaotic, maybe.” She took another sip of coffee and sighed. “Well, girls, it looks like tomorrow I get to play ‘obedient wife.’ I should win an award.”
The next evening arrived faster than she’d hoped.
Julia stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged her form but still screamed don’t mess with me. She tied her hair up, applied minimal makeup, and finished with red lipstick — not because she wanted to impress him, but because she liked the way it made her reflection look untouchable.
When the car arrived, she didn’t say goodbye to the maids; she winked instead. “If I’m not back by midnight, avenge me.”
Suni laughed. “Good luck, Miss Julia!”
Adrian was already waiting in the car. The door opened automatically, and Julia slid inside without a word. The air between them was thick, almost suffocating.
He looked at her once — a long, assessing look — then turned his gaze back to the window.
“Nice car,” Julia said after a beat. “New model?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Expensive.”
“I can afford it.”
“Clearly,” she murmured. “Must be nice to have money and no personality.”
He shot her a glare. “Are you ever quiet?”
“Only when I’m dead.”
He groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I don’t know why I thought dinner was a good idea.”
“Maybe because you missed me,” she said sweetly.
He scoffed. “Keep dreaming.”
Julia smirked. “Oh, I do. Every night. In those dreams, you’re not talking.”
He glared again, but this time, there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips — amusement, maybe. She wasn’t sure.
They arrived at the restaurant — a high-end place with gold chandeliers and walls that smelled like old money and good wine. Julia followed him inside, her expression unreadable.
The staff greeted Adrian warmly, bowing and smiling. Julia stood beside him, expression flat, the picture of effortless detachment.
They were seated at a private table near the window. A waiter handed them menus, but Julia didn’t bother to look.
She stared out the window instead.
The city lights outside reflected on the glass, dancing against her silhouette.
Adrian ordered for both of them, his tone sharp and efficient. The moment the waiter left, silence settled between them again.
Julia tapped her finger against the table. “So,” she said finally, “this is nice.”
He looked up. “You haven’t said a single real word since we got here.”
“Oh, you noticed?”
His jaw tightened. “You smile when you talk to everyone else. Even Alex.”
Julia tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “Ah, there it is. The name.”
He frowned. “What?”
“You said his name like it tasted bad. Don’t worry, Adrian. He’s not your competitor.”
Adrian’s eyes darkened. “He’s not?”
“No,” she said calmly. “Because there isn’t a competition.”
Their eyes locked. Neither looked away.
The waiter returned with their food, the sound of clinking plates breaking the tension. Julia thanked him politely, picked up her fork, and started eating as if nothing had happened.
Adrian didn’t touch his food for a while. He just stared at her.
Finally, he said, “You really don’t care, do you?”
She met his gaze, unflinching. “About what?”
“About us.”
Julia set her fork down, wiping her mouth with the napkin before leaning slightly forward. Her voice was calm, almost too calm.
“There is no ‘us,’ Adrian. There’s you — with your rules, your temper, your ego. And me — just trying to survive in the house you call home.”
He looked at her for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then he pushed back his chair abruptly. “We’re leaving.”
Julia raised a brow. “Already? But we haven’t even pretended to like each other yet.”
“Now.”
She sighed, stood up, and followed him out. “You know, you’re really bad at this husband thing.”
He didn’t answer.
The ride home was quiet. The car rolled through the city streets, lights flashing across their faces. Julia stared out the window, lost in thought, until something caught her eye — a park bathed in soft green light.
Children were running across the grass, laughing, their parents watching from benches. It was simple, peaceful — the kind of happiness she’d forgotten existed.
Her voice softened without meaning to. “Stop the car.”
Adrian frowned. “What?”
“I said stop.”
The driver hesitated but obeyed. Julia opened the door and stepped out, her heels crunching against the pavement.
The cool night air brushed her skin. She stood there for a while, just watching — the laughter, the small joys, the kind of life she never had.
Adrian got out after a moment, standing a few feet behind her. He didn’t speak.
Julia finally said, “You ever wonder what it’s like to be normal?”
He looked at her. “Normal?”
“Yeah. Waking up without guards. Without power. Without all the… pretending.”
He didn’t answer immediately. “That’s not who we are.”
Julia let out a faint laugh. “Figures.” She turned to face him. “You know, you should smile more. Might make people think you’re human.”
Adrian’s lips twitched — the ghost of a smirk, almost lost to the night. “And you should talk less.”
“Impossible.”
They stood there in silence for a moment, the sound of laughter floating through the air.
Then Julia turned away, slipping back into the car. “Let’s go home, Mr. Velasco.”
He followed, his expression unreadable.
As the car drove off, Julia glanced once more at the park through the window. For a fleeting second, she almost smiled — but didn’t.
Because Julia Sandrigal didn’t smile for anyone.