So what did that make her, Janina?
A housekeeper? A whore?-
Yvonne was pregnant.
It didn't take a genius to figure out the child was very likely Julius's. Why else would he be so concerned?
Janina closed her eyes, unable to watch any longer.
She had once humbled herself completely, putting Julius on a pedestal.
She had loved him, longed for him, and defied all opposition to be with him.
Back then, Janina wasn't a great student. To feel worthy of even being his friend, she had thrown herself into painting, hoping to meet him at the top from a different path.
And she did it. She became a renowned designer.
But even as praise and success swirled around her, she had been willing to give it all up—her beloved art, her promising future—to marry Julius without a second thought, content to be the woman behind him.
All because he had said, "Just be my wife. I'll take care of the rest."
But she had been wrong. Their love wasn't equal. Julius couldn't handle the depth of her devotion, and in the same way, she couldn't handle his betrayal.
The man she loved had ultimately chosen to walk side by side with another woman.
Julius had become a prominent figure in Clayborne City, while she had become an ordinary housewife.
A nobody with nothing to her name.
She suddenly realized that apart from a love that was all in her own head, she had nothing.
The ache in her chest was sharp enough to steal her breath.
Janina didn't rush forward to scream and demand answers.
Perhaps her stare was too intense, because Julius, who had already walked some distance away, suddenly turned his head and saw her looking at him.
Janina met his direct gaze without flinching. She wanted an explanation, too.

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