Her family put up a fuss, but in the end, there wasn’t much they could do. It wasn’t until a tearful Jules was on the verge of calling an Uber that her father consented to give her a lift to the station.

During the car ride, Jules realized she hadn’t told anybody in her family about Vivian’s pregnancy. It wouldn’t exactly be a violation of her unwritten confidentiality agreement if she told her dad. It wasn’t like the Morettis would tell all of Twitter.

So she spilled the beans, concluding with “And her husband doesn’t even want anything to do with it. He’s been cheating on her for months!”

Her father wasn’t entirely unsympathetic. “That’s a lousy thing to go through, no matter how rich and famous you are. And I’m sorry it’s happening to her. But, sweetie, it’s ludicrous that she’s calling you and threatening you and…” His voice dropped into a growl. “People aren’t things, Jules.”

“I know,” she pleaded. “But…I don’t know. I mean…” She looked down at the hands in her lap, then back at him. “She needs me.”

Her father rolled his eyes.

“No.” Suddenly, Jules had to make him understand. It’d be tough since she didn’t understand it herself. “I know it’s weird, but it’s true. I’m practically the only person she talks to now. I’m the only one in the office she’s even told officially.”

Her father slammed his hands against the steering wheel and scowled. “You shouldn’t be in that position.”

It wasn’t anything Jules hadn’t thought before, but she heard herself say, “It’s not Vivian’s fault this happened to her.”

Her father sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you that I haven’t already said. You’re grown up, and you’re on your own. You make your own decisions.”

The words suddenly made Jules feel very young indeed, and she fumed in silence the rest of the way to the station.

* * *

An exhausted Jules exited Heathrow Airport to find Jimmy, Vivian’s London driver, waiting for her in a Jaguar XF. She’d called him the moment she’d landed and the flight attendants said it was okay.

“Glad you made it all right,” he said. “There’s bottled water, if you’re thirsty.”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Happy Christmas, then.”

Jules fought the urge to glare at him. He was just trying to be nice. He probably didn’t want to be working on Christmas either. “Thanks. You too.”

“Plans got spoiled, I expect. London’s a good town, though. Been here before?”

“No. I’ve always wanted to.”

“Well, there you are,” he said heartily.