"What did you just say?"
"I said I know the truth about Toby," Willow Horgan repeated, holding his gaze steadily. "He's your child with Vivienne. He's not some random kid you adopted."
It had taken every ounce of her courage to lay it out like that. While she hoped to use the secret as leverage against Julian Sinclair, she knew the confession offered her little protection—it was like bearing her neck to a blade.
A heavy silence settled over the room. Willow braced herself for his reaction.
Before walking in, she had imagined every possible response. Shock? Guilt? Furious, defensive rage? It was a massive, scandalous secret, after all. Surely, he'd react somehow.
But as she met Julian's eyes, she found absolutely nothing. Just a cold, bottomless apathy.
It shouldn't be like this.
Julian stared at her indifferently, then let out a low, mocking scoff. "So, is this what you've been throwing a tantrum over all these days?"
There was no panic. No remorse. Instead, he looked incredibly smug, as if he had just seen right through a pathetic, desperate ploy, gazing down at her from his untouchable pedestal.
"A tantrum?"
"Running off to New York, laying a hand on Toby, throwing a fit in front of Nana," Julian listed off, his tone dripping with condescension. "All over this?"
It was about this—but it wasn't just about this.
Willow had zero desire to argue the nuances with him. "And what if it is?"
"What if it is?" Julian chuckled softly. "I actually thought you'd be grateful. After all, you're the one who benefits the most here, aren't you?"
The sheer audacity of his words left Willow reeling. He had decimated someone else's life, and yet he expected gratitude?


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