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My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 19

The mystery woman

Julian’s POV

The engagement party had swelled and receded like a tide, leaving the estate humming with warmth and perfume and carefully curated laughter. Beneath the glittering chandeliers and the gleam of polished marble, I felt strangely disconnected from it all, as though I was watching from outside my own body.

I had not expected her presence to rattle me. I had stood in that room hours ago, made polite conversation with a stranger I was supposed to marry, someone selected for convenience, arranged like stock on a balance sheet, and yet this woman standing alone out on the balcony had taken something from me I can’t even name.

I hadn’t known why I kept glancing at her throughout the party…until this moment.

I found her now, just beyond the noise, on the far edge of a terrace overlooking the city, the skyline a glittering testament to a world that expected everything to be manicured to perfection. She stood with a glass of champagne, delicate fingers wrapped around the stem, body relaxed but mind somewhere… elsewhere. She was alone. Not lonely, just solitary.

I knew that feeling. I walked out, glass of scotch in hand, and paused beside her without announcing myself.

She didn’t turn immediately, but she knew I was there, or at least someone was there.

“You are something else, Katia,” I said quietly.

She turned, and she smiled brightly. The most unfiltered smile I’d ever seen. It was more like a child discovering snow for the first time. And for an instant… I forgot my own name.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice steady but curious.

I lifted the glass of scotch I was holding to my lips. This was my poison, biting warmth that always centered me.

“You are a mystery,” I said after a slow sip. “Unlike your sister. Delia’s very easy to read… predictable even. But you? Not so much. Your own family doesn’t know shit about you.”

She blinked, taking a moment before she responded.

“Yeah,” she said with a half–smile, “my family is rather an interesting one.”

I tilted my head just slightly, not mocking, just observant. “By interesting, you mean they threw you out at twenty because they wanted you to get married to me, and you got pregnant for someone else?”

Her gaze flickered, then just for a heartbeat, and then I registered the absurd truth of it.

“Something like that,” she said calmly.

I let out a small, humorless laugh.

“So in other words,” I said, “I’m the problem to many of your problems.”

She chuckled, not loud, not sarcastic, just genuine, and it was disarming. Like laughter that doesn’t try to hide pain, just acknowledges it.

I opened my mouth to say something else, something honest and dangerously close to real, when a voice interrupted.

“There you are!” And I could feel her before I saw her, Delia.

Stepping onto the balcony with the same innocence she wielded so often since I met her today, arms in the air like a fine–tuned performance, and she didn’t hesitate. She stood directly in front of me, backing Katia out of our conversation, positioning herself physically as though she thought she could erase the moment by force of presence.

“Can I steal my fiancé, Katia?” she asked, airy and light, the syllables sweet but the intention sharp as broken glass.

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I didn’t bother masking my irritation.

“No, you may not,” I said, calm and cold. “I am still having a conversation. I do not like to be disturbed.”

Delia blinked at me, confusion creeping into her expression like she genuinely thought those words belonged only to her, like they were written in stone for her benefit

Katia, sensing the discomfort, gave a polite half–nod.

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I’ll find Gail. You have a lovely home, Mr. Windsor.”

There was not a hint of bitterness in her voice. Not even a shadow of offense, just elegance.

I watched her go.

And as she walked away, I felt something tighten in my chest, something unfamiliar and unwelcome, like an announcement I didn’t ask for.

I turned back to Delia and I was colder than I meant to be.

“Did I make myself clear?”

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