Julian pinned her with a murderous stare.
"Are you going to hit me, Mr. Campbell? We're in public, you know," Janetta purred, entirely unbothered.
Despite the spike of adrenaline his presence caused.
She maintained an immaculate facade of utter boredom.
Several onlookers were already turning their heads toward the commotion.
Julian wasn't reckless enough to start a brawl in the middle of a crowded airport terminal.
And he refused to create a scene that would only further traumatize Helena.
Shoving past the woman with a look of pure disgust, he stormed into the restroom.
"If anything happens to her, you're dead," he warned Janetta over his shoulder.
Janetta simply offered a breezy, dismissive laugh.
But she didn't stick around, quickly disappearing into the sea of stranded travelers.
She had no desire to push her luck with a man like Julian.
Unlike Helena, he was a genuine threat she couldn't manipulate.
She wasn't going to invite unnecessary risk.
Inside, Julian found Helena standing frozen by the sinks.
He immediately scanned her from head to toe.
Physically, she appeared entirely unharmed.
"Lena?" he called out softly.
She blinked, as if snapping out of a trance. "Why did you come in? This is the women's room."
Her voice was unsettlingly normal, completely devoid of panic.
"I saw Janetta leaving. I thought she might have tried something," he answered bluntly.
But something felt horribly wrong.
Her complete lack of reaction sent a violent wave of unease crashing through him.
She gave a slight nod. "She left."
"Did she say anything to you?" he demanded, his frown deepening.
She seemed to ponder the question for a moment.
Then, a dry, hollow laugh escaped her lips. "What could she possibly say?"
It was a masterclass in self-deprecation.
An admission of absolute, crushing defeat.
Janetta's words had eviscerated her soul.

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