My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 362

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At Least I’m Not Delusional

Katia’s POV

We didn’t finish everything we had planned in Korea. The nausea hit harder than I expected after that night in the hotel, and even though I tried to push through for Aiden’s sake, Julian took one look at rae the next morning and quietly started cancelin the rest of the itinerary. Nami Island would have to wait. The cable car rides, the cherry blossom walks, and the hidden temple Aiden had circled on his printed map all of it got postponed. “Next time,” + told Aiden as we packed our bags. “We’ll come back and finish everything. I promise.”

Aiden had nodded, clutching Mr. Choi tight to his chest, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. Still, he was more worried about me than anything else. He kept asking if the baby was making me sick and if he could carry my bag so I didn’t have to. My sweet boy. He was already trying to be a big brother before the baby even had a heartbeat he could hear.

Back in New York, life tried to snap back into its usual rhythm, but nothing felt the same. Aider went back to school with storie about upside–down roller coasters and Korean street food. Julian returned to W with that quiet intensity he wore like armor And I sat in my office, hand occasionally drifting to my still–flat stomach, wondering how long I could keep this secret before i became obvious to everyone.

Sam was with me that afternoon, going over some contracts and pretending not to notice how many times I’d reached for the ginger tea she’d brought. We were deep in conversation about the next quarter when the door to my office slammed open so

hard it bounced off the wall.

Delia stormed in like a hurricane in designer heels, her face flushed with rage and her perfume hitting me like a chemical weapon. The scent was overwhelming, sweet, cloying, and nauseating all at once. My stomach rolled immediately.

Sam stood up fast, but I raised a hand, signaling her to stay for now. I wanted a witness for whatever bullshit Delia was about to pull.

Delia marched right up to my desk and slammed her hands down on it, leaning forward like she thought she could intimidate me in my own office.

“I don’t really know what it is you have on my husband that he can even give you our house,” Delia spat, her voice dripping with venom and barely contained hysteria.

I leaned back in my chair slowly, crossing my legs and staring at her. I let the silence stretch, watching the way her perfectly manicured nails dug into the wood of my desk, the slight tremor in her hands, and the way her lipstick was just a little smeared at the corner like she’d been biting her lip the whole way here.

Pathetic!

“I have always known Julian was never your husband,” I said, my voice calm, cold, and cutting. “You can drop the act because you have no claim over him. Also, the house–that house is mine. Now get the fuck out of my office. Your perfume makes me sick.”

Sam picked up the folder she’d been holding, gave Delia a long, unimpressed once over like she was looking at something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, and walked out without a word. The door clicked shut behind her with tinality

Delia’s face went from flushed to bright red in seconds.

“Julian is mine!” she barked, the words cracking like she was trying to convince herself more than me

I raised an eyebrow, a slow, mocking smile curving my lips.

“Is that why you’re here barking like a dog in heat?” I shot back “Get out ”

The nausea surged again, violent and sudden. I stood up quickly, one hand pressed to my stomach, and rushed to the private bathroom attached to my office. I barely made it to the toilet before everything came up My body heaved, stomach clenching painfully as I threw up what little I’d managed to eat that morning

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I stayed there on my knees for a minute, breathing hard through my nose, waiting for the wave to pass. When it finally did, I rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face, and stared at myself in the mirror for a second.

Delia was still standing there when I came back out, arms crossed, looking smug like my vomiting was some kind of point

scored for her.

“You’re still here?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hard. My vorce was hoarse but steady.

“I want you to tell me who got you pregnant,” Delia demanded, her tone dripping with fake concern and real malice. “Another stranger?”

I moved closer to her, slow and close enough that I could see the way her eyes darted nervously toward the door. She was regretting this already. Good.

“What if it’s the very same person you claim is your husband?” I said, my voice low and venormous. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know we are fucking. And now we fuck in the same house; you’re here parking for me to leave. But then, I can’t leave, because the house is mine and you were never the wife.”

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