The silence stretched between us like a chasm. Augustus stared at the pregnancy test as if it might spontaneously combust.
I should have felt victorious, watching his legendary composure crack. Instead, I felt hollow.
How had I gotten myself into this mess?
Six months ago, I'd stepped off the plane at Shorebridge International.
Armed with my designer sunglasses perched on my nose, and master's degree tucked safely in my Hermès carry-on slung over my shoulder.
I'd given them exactly what they wanted: the prodigal heiress making her grand entrance.
Click, click, click.
"Juliette! Over here! How does it feel to be back?"
"Are you joining Harper Group immediately?"
"Any plans to settle down?"
I'd laughed, tossing my hair and giving them the perfect shot. By evening, the society pages had spun their narrative:
"Harper Heiress Comes Home—Ready to Rule the Empire?"
Mother had called within hours, her voice bubbling with expectations.
"Darling, we've arranged meetings with the department heads. You can start Monday—"
"Actually," I'd interrupted, "after two years of thesis hell, I deserve a little fun."
The scandalized pause on the other end had been delicious.
"Juliette Marie Harper—"
"Relax, Mother. The empire won't crumble if I take a few weeks to breathe."
I hadn't gone home to the estate in Summit Heights.
Instead, I'd checked into The Stellar; Shorebridge's most exclusive hotel overlooking the harbor. The penthouse suite cost more per night than most people's monthly rent.
Perfect.
The next morning, I'd hit the boutiques in Stonepoint like a hurricane with unlimited credit.
At Bergdorf's, I'd swept entire racks clean while the sales associate practically swooned.
"The emerald silk? Divine choice, Miss Harper."
"I'll take it in every color."
My black card had never worked so hard. Chanel, Dior, that little Italian leather shop that only the truly wealthy knew about.
I'd charmed my way through them all, leaving a trail of shopping bags and starstruck employees.
"Miss Harper, would you like these sent to the estate?"
"The Stellar, darling. Penthouse."
Mother's disapproving phone calls had only fueled my rebellion.
The nights had blurred together in a haze of Dom Pérignon and laughter.
Rooftop afterparties where I'd kicked off my Louboutins and danced barefoot across marble terraces, my gown swirling like liquid starlight.
Jazz bars in Riverton where I'd commandeered the microphone for impromptu toasts.
"To beautiful disasters and expensive mistakes!"
The crowd had roared, but I'd caught the whispers threading through the applause.
"Still the same Juliette."
"All flash, no substance."
"When will she grow up?"
At a VC mixer in Sable Wharf, I'd spotted Seth Sterling leaning against the bar. Ocean-blue eyes, sleeves rolled up, that easy smile that had charmed half our business school cohort.
While others watched me with thinly veiled judgment, Seth had simply grinned.
"Julie Harper. Should've known you'd make an entrance."
"Seth Sterling. Still slumming it with us trust fund babies?"
He'd laughed, raising his whiskey.
"Someone has to keep you honest."
Seth never looked at me like I was a disappointment waiting to happen.
He saw the girl who'd stayed up until dawn perfecting business plans, not just the heiress buying champagne for strangers.
For three weeks, I lived in pure, unapologetic indulgence. I'd been living my best life.
Until the money ran out.
Not exactly ran out. More like... vanished.
I'd been having afternoon tea with Camille at Maison Blanc, gossiping about the latest society scandals, when my black card got declined.
"I'm sorry, Miss Harper, but the transaction won't go through."
The waiter's apologetic smile felt like a slap. I stared at the card like it had personally betrayed me.
"That's impossible. Run it again."
"Julie..." Camille's voice carried that gentle warning I knew too well. "Maybe you've been going a little overboard lately?"
Heat crept up my neck.
"It's a mistake. Has to be."
Camille reached for her purse.
"Don't worry about it, babe. I've got this."
Before I could protest, my phone buzzed. Mother's name flashed across the screen.
"Juliette." Her voice was crisp, efficient. "We need to talk."
"If this is about the hotel bill—"
"Your father and I have made a decision. Either you come home or we're cutting off your allowance."
My stomach dropped.
"You can't be serious."
"We've indulged this tantrum long enough, darling. Time to grow up."
Camille stirred her tea, avoiding my eyes.
"Maybe they have a point, Jules."
"Et tu, Camille?"
"Look, I love your rebellious phase, but living in hotels and maxing out credit cards isn't exactly sustainable."
I slumped back in my chair, defeated.
"Fine. But when I'm suffocating under their expectations, remember this moment."
Two hours later, I stood on the familiar marble steps of the Harper estate.
The Beaux-Arts mansion loomed before me, all classical columns and manicured perfection.
Mother appeared at the door before I could ring the bell, her honey-blonde bob immaculate as always.
"Juliette. Finally."
"Hello, Mother."
Her gaze swept over my designer outfit with disapproval.
"Was the hotel really necessary?"
"Was cutting me off really necessary?"
Father emerged behind her, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.
"Welcome home, sweetheart." His smile held genuine warmth, even if his eyes carried disappointment.
The servants descended on my luggage like a well-orchestrated ballet, hauling shopping bags and suitcases towards my bedroom.
"Why don't you settle in first, darling? Dinner's at seven."
Mother's tone left no room for argument. I trudged upstairs, each step echoing through the marble hallway.
My bedroom door creaked open to reveal a time capsule.
Everything exactly as I'd left it two years ago; pale pink walls, white French provincial furniture, even the stack of design magazines on my nightstand.
The canopy bed looked like it belonged to a teenager, not a woman with a master's degree.
I sank onto the mattress, staring at my old vanity mirror.
The reflection showed someone who'd been playing dress-up in adult clothes, running from responsibilities I'd eventually have to face.
Dinner arrived sooner than I'd hoped. Crystal stemware caught the chandelier light as Father carved the roast.
"So," Mother began, dabbing her lips with linen. "We should discuss your future."
"By my future, I'm assuming you meant the company. So, when do you need me to start?"
"Actually, Juliette." Father's voice carried that patient tone reserved for stubborn children.
"Your little vacation proved you need structure."
"Structure?"
"You know, discipline and focus?" Mother's fork clinked against porcelain. "Which is why we've arranged something better."
My stomach tightened.
Father leaned forward, his expression serious.
"You'll be working at Ever Holdings."
The fork clattered against my plate.
"As Augustus's assistant."