CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Penelope's POV

Miss Tessa sighed as she gathered her planner, clicking her pen shut with a sense of finality. "I understand that you're not feeling well, Mrs. Laurent," she said, her tone laced with polite disapproval. "Your husband mentioned as much, but we really need to go over the details of the LauRiot launch if the party is going to take place in a week. We can't afford any delays."

I forced a tight smile, my stomach twisting at her words. So Julien had told her I wasn't feeling well. A convenient excuse to explain away my distracted behavior. What if he was covering for me? No. I wasn't really feeling well. I'm sure he told her that out of concern for me.

"I understand," I murmured, nodding anxiously. "I'll review everything and get back to you tomorrow."

Miss Tessa's lips pursed, but she didn't press further. With a final glance, she turned and walked toward the grand entryway. I followed closely behind, my hands clenched at my sides as I watched her step into her car and disappear down the long, winding driveway.

The moment she was gone, I spun around and hurried back inside.

Straight to Julien's office.

I shoved the heavy oak door open, heart pounding as I stormed inside. My hands trembled as I went through the drawers again, rifling through files, opening books, flipping through the photobook I had found earlier. I searched every surface, every corner, every possible hiding place.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I sank into the leather chair behind his desk, gripping the armrests to steady myself. The photograph of me at Greg's Diner still burned in my mind. I had been so sure that I'd find more—something that proved Julien had been watching me long before Madison's death. Something that would explain why.

But there was nothing. No more hidden photos. No suspicious notes. No cryptic messages that revealed the truth.

Had I imagined it?

No. The picture had been real. Which meant Julien had known about me. The question was—how much did he know?

I exhaled sharply and pushed myself up from the chair, my frustration building up with each passing second as I walked out of the office.

My feet carried me toward the master bedroom, the luxurious space that had belonged to Madison. That now belonged to me. For the meantime, I guess. Just 47 days before I can claim that money in the safe and disappear for good. 

The walk-in closet was just as grand as everything else in the house. The lighting was soft and warm, illuminating the perfectly arranged designer dresses, shoes, and handbags that lined the shelves. Every inch of space screamed wealth and status. Madison's side of the closet—my side—was filled with extravagant outfits I never would have been able to afford in my old life.

But it was Julien's side that caught my attention.

The suits were neatly hung, each one tailored to perfection. Shoes polished to a gleaming shine. Wristwatches displayed in a sleek, glass case. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air—rich, intoxicating.

I walked toward his collection of colognes, a row of expensive bottles lined up on a marble counter. I reached for one and brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply.

The scent was warm, familiar. I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me.

Then I reached for another. And another.

Each fragrance carried something different. Some were darker, more musky. Others were lighter, infused with citrus and spice.

Then, I picked up a bottle with a deep green hue.

I unscrewed the cap, leaned in, and inhaled.

The scent was smooth, clean—woodsy with hints of amber. But as soon as the fragrance hit my senses, something strange happened.

A memory slammed into me.

Not my memory. Not mine at all.

Julien.

He was smiling.

At me.

The image was so clear, so vivid, that I staggered back, my fingers tightening around the bottle. The vision flashed before me—Julien in a pool, his dark blonde hair damp, his usually sharp eyes softened with something I couldn't name.

And he was smiling. A genuine, warm, affectionate smile.

I gasped, my breath hitching as the memory vanished as suddenly as it had come.

My mind reeled. Julien had never smiled at me like that. Not once since I had met him.

So why did I remember it?

And why did it feel so real?

The sharp chime of the doorbell snapped me out of my daze. My fingers loosened around the perfume bottle, and I quickly placed it back where I had found it. My heart still pounded from the strange memory—if I could even call it that—but I pushed it aside and made my way to the door.

When I opened it, a small group of maids stood outside, dressed in pristine uniforms. Their heads were bowed low, their hands folded neatly in front of them. They didn't move until I stepped aside, silently allowing them in.

I frowned slightly as they hurried past me, still refusing to meet my gaze. It was odd—almost unsettling. They acted as though I were some kind of force to be feared, and I wasn't sure if it was because of me or because of Madison.

Did she treat them poorly?

I closed the door behind them and turned away, retreating back toward the bedroom. Whatever the reason for their behavior, I didn't have time to dwell on it. There were bigger things to worry about.

Like Madison's phone.

I had scoured through it before, but I needed to go through it again. There had to be something—some clue, some message, something that would help me understand what had really happened to her.

I sat on the edge of the bed and unlocked the phone, my fingers quickly swiping through texts, emails, and call logs. It was frustrating. No suspicious messages, no cryptic texts. It was as if she had wiped it clean before—

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called, setting the phone aside.

The door creaked open slowly, and one of the maids stepped in. She looked to be in her late twenties, her uniform neatly pressed, her brown hair tucked into a low bun. But what struck me most was the way she kept her head bowed low, hands clasped in front of her as she hesitated near the entrance.

"Mrs. Laurent," she said softly. "I came to clean the room."

I studied her for a moment before responding. "Raise your head."

She stiffened slightly but obeyed, lifting her chin just enough for me to see her face. There was hesitation in her dark eyes—no, more than that. Fear.

I narrowed my gaze. "Look at me."

She hesitated again, but this time, she lifted her gaze fully, meeting mine. The fear was unmistakable now.

It wasn't me she was afraid of. It was Madison.

I exhaled slowly. "You don't have to bow your head when you speak to me," I said, watching as her eyes widened slightly in shock.

"I—yes, ma'am," she said quickly, looking confused but nodding nonetheless. Without another word, she hurried over to the dresser and began tidying up.

I picked up Madison's phone again, my thoughts swirling. What kind of person had Madison been in this house? Why were they all so scared of her?

Before I could dwell on it further, the phone buzzed in my hand.

A call.

Julien.

My breath hitched slightly as I stared at the screen. Hesitating only for a second, I swiped to answer.

"Madison," his deep voice came through the speaker, cool and composed as always. "I know I asked you to rest, and you're not supposed to resume work until later in the week, but I need you to handle something for me."

I swallowed. "What is it?"

"There's a meeting in an hour. I need you at headquarters. We're finalizing the negotiations with the investors, and they need to hear from you about the LauRiot expansion projections. You'll have the files in the office."

I hesitated. "Are you sure—?"

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't sure," he said smoothly. "Be there in an hour."

And just like that, the line went dead.

I slowly lowered the phone, my pulse quickening.

Julien wanted me at a business meeting.

How the hell was I supposed to pull this off?