12:30 p.m.
Julian's luxurious black sedan moved slowly through the congested streets of Kemang. Julian stared out the window, his jaw clenched. He hated this area. Too much traffic. Too noisy. This was absolutely not the kind of route a Vance Group tycoon usually took.
A thin folder containing Martha's hastily gathered findings lay on his lap.
It had taken his assistant only two hours to obtain all the information he'd requested. The orphanage project location. The donor list. And, of course, the profile of the lead architect: Dirga Adhitama. A single man, thirty-two years old, a graduate of a top university, the owner of his own architecture firm, and known for frequently handling social projects.
Julian gave a quiet snort as he read the profile. Nothing special. He was utterly insignificant compared to Julian's wealth and power.
"We've arrived, sir," the driver's voice from the front seat broke into his thoughts.
Julian looked out the window. His car had stopped directly across from a shady, semi-open-air café. It was far from luxurious. There were no neatly uniformed servers or crystal lights. Only wooden tables beneath canopy umbrellas.
"Wait here."
Julian got out of the car and adjusted the position of his navy suit jacket. The midday weather in Jakarta was fairly scorching, but Julian crossed the street with the same arrogant air he wore when entering the lobby of a skyscraper.
His eyes swept across the café. It didn't take him long to find the person he was looking for.
At the farthest corner, beneath the shade of a large tree, Serena sat facing a wooden table.
Julian's steps suddenly slowed.
Blueprints, a tablet, and two cups of iced coffee were scattered across the table. But that wasn't what made Julian freeze. It was the laughter spilling from his wife's lips.
Serena was laughing freely. Her head was tilted slightly back, her eyes narrowed with happiness. She lightly patted the arm of the man in the flannel shirt sitting beside her because he'd just made a joke.
That man was Dirga. The architect. He laughed along with Serena while looking at his wife with an expression that, to Julian, was far too warm. Far too intimate.
A sudden heat scorched Julian's chest. Raw, primitive jealousy.
For three years, Julian had assumed Serena was the quiet type. He thought his wife was stiff and only knew how to smile politely. But this afternoon, reality slapped him in the face again. Serena wasn't stiff. His wife was lively, warm, and fun. It was just that... she refused to show that side of herself to her own husband.
Julian swallowed roughly. He continued toward the corner table. His expensive leather shoes tapped against the café's wooden floor, creating heavy footsteps that finally drew the table's attention.
Dirga turned first. The man's brow furrowed faintly before his expression shifted as he recognized Julian.
Then Serena turned too.
And just like what had happened the night before... the instant the woman's eyes collided with Julian's, the remnants of laughter on her face evaporated without a trace. They were replaced by a flat, cold expression, blank as a wall.
That instant change hurt Julian's ego more deeply than anything else.
"Julian?" Serena spoke first. Her tone made no attempt to hide her surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Julian stopped directly in front of their table. He slipped one hand into his pants pocket, trying to look as though he had the situation under control.
"I happened to have a meeting with a client nearby," Julian lied smoothly. His eyes shifted to Dirga, his gaze sharp. "I want to have lunch. And take you with me."
Dirga immediately stood. He extended his hand politely. "Mr. Julian Vance. It's an honor to meet you in person. I'm Dirga, the architect for Mrs. Serena's foundation project."
Julian stared at the outstretched hand for a second longer than necessary before finally returning the handshake. His grip was far too tight—a silent warning from one man to another.
"Yes. I've read your profile," Julian replied coldly.
Dirga smiled awkwardly and pulled his hand back. He could feel the thick hostility radiating from the tycoon in front of him. "In that case, I'll excuse myself to another table for a moment, sir. So you can talk privately with your wife."
Dirga had just started to turn away when Serena's voice stopped him.
"Don't bother, Dirga. Just sit down."
Dirga's steps halted. Julian froze too.
Serena didn't move from her seat at all. She looked at Julian with a calm, deadly expression.
"Have lunch wherever you want, Julian. But I can't go with you," Serena flatly refused. "I'm in a meeting. We need to finish discussing the orphanage's east wing design today."
Julian clenched his jaw. Being humiliated in front of outsiders was his greatest taboo.
"That discussion can be postponed for an hour," Julian insisted. His voice dropped, heavy and emphatic. "I canceled my schedule this afternoon specifically to have lunch with you."
Serena met that intimidating stare without the slightest hint of fear.
"I never asked you to cancel your schedule, Julian," Serena shot back. "And I don't want to put my work on hold just to accompany you to lunch."
Silence.
Even the din of Kemang's streets seemed to be sucked completely from Julian's ears. He stared at his wife in disbelief. Serena had just subtly thrown him out in front of another man.
"Are you kicking me out?" Julian hissed.
"I'm reminding you where your boundaries are," Serena replied casually. She straightened the edge of the blueprints on the table. "Three years ago, you told me never to bring household matters into your working hours. Work was the top priority. Now I'm simply applying the same rule."
Checkmate.
For what felt like the hundredth time, the weapon Julian had created himself had turned around and pierced his heart.
Serena looked at her husband again. "Go back to your office, Julian. You're disrupting my work hours."
Julian Vance had never been rejected. He always got what he wanted. But this afternoon, beneath the cheap café's canopy umbrella, in front of a middle-class architect, Julian had to swallow his pride whole.
Without saying another word, Julian turned around. He walked away with stiff steps, his jaw clenched so tightly it nearly cracked. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.
It wasn't anger boiling in his chest now. It was real fear. Fear that he might already be too late to fix what he'd deliberately destroyed all this time.