Chapter 4 he Woman He Didn't Expect

# Chapter 4

## The Woman He Didn't Expect

Piper stood before her bathroom mirror, carefully applying the deep red lipstick Julian had once mentioned reminded him of "passion distilled." Her movements were precise, deliberate—just like her plan. Three days had passed since her revelation in Dr. Felicity's office, three days of pretending nothing had changed while everything had.

"He wants a perfect reflection," she murmured to her image. "Let's give him exactly what he expects."

Her phone chimed with a text from Julian: *Just finished lecture prep. Can't stop thinking about last night. Your mind is as intoxicating as your body.*

She smiled coldly at the calculated flattery. Last night had been a performance on both their parts—hers more conscious than ever. She had laughed at his jokes, gazed adoringly into his eyes, and played the role of the besotted girlfriend while mentally cataloging every inconsistency in his stories.

*Missing you too,* she typed back. *Still on for dinner at 8?*

His response came immediately: *Wouldn't miss it for the world.*

Piper put down her phone and finished dressing. Tonight would be the beginning of her counteroffensive—subtle questions designed to make Julian reveal more than he intended.

The restaurant Julian had chosen was intimate and expensive, with low lighting that cast everyone in a flattering glow. He was already seated when she arrived, rising to greet her with a kiss that felt genuine enough to momentarily shake her resolve.

"You look stunning," he said, his eyes traveling appreciatively over her form-fitting black dress. "Though you always do."

"Thank you." Piper settled into her seat, reaching for her water glass. "How was your day? Any interesting patients?"

She emphasized the last word slightly, watching for his reaction. Julian's smile remained in place, but something flickered behind his eyes—quick recalculation.

"Just the usual academic politics," he deflected smoothly. "But I'd rather hear about your day. Did you finish that research proposal?"

Piper allowed him to redirect the conversation, noting how skillfully he avoided her trap. Throughout the appetizer course, she maintained the pretense of normalcy while weaving small challenges into their conversation.

"I've been thinking," she said as their entrees arrived, "about what makes relationships work. What makes them real."

Julian took a sip of his wine, his expression attentive. "And what conclusions have you reached?"

"That knowing someone—truly knowing them—means seeing their darkness, not just their light." She met his eyes directly. "What about you, Julian? What are you afraid to let women see about you?"

For a fraction of a second, Julian's practiced charm faltered. He recovered quickly, but Piper had seen it—the momentary disorientation of a man used to asking questions, not answering them.

"An interesting question," he said, setting down his glass. "I suppose I worry that my analytical nature can come across as emotional detachment. That my need to understand human behavior makes me seem calculating."

"Is that a professional hazard?" Piper pressed. "Studying people so much that you forget how to simply be with them?"

Julian's laugh held a note of genuine surprise. "You're particularly philosophical tonight."

"Just curious," she replied, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You know so much about me. I want to know you just as deeply."

The rest of dinner continued in this vein—Piper asking questions that seemed innocuous but were designed to probe Julian's defenses, while he expertly deflected, redirected, and occasionally offered carefully curated glimpses into his supposed vulnerabilities.

As they shared dessert, she leaned forward, her voice intimate. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Julian's eyes darkened with what appeared to be desire. "Anything."

"When you look at me," she said slowly, "do you see me? Or do you see reflections of other women? Your mother, perhaps? Or past lovers?"

The question landed like a stone between them. Julian's fork paused midway to his mouth, then continued its journey as he composed his response.

"What an unusual question," he said finally. "I see you, Piper. Only you. You're unlike anyone I've ever known."

"Am I?" she challenged softly. "Because sometimes I wonder if the things you love about me are actually things you've loved before. In other women."

Julian reached across the table to take her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "You're not them. You're not anyone but yourself. That's exactly what I want."

The sincerity in his voice was perfect—so perfect that for a moment, Piper almost believed him. Almost forgot the necklace intended for her mother, the lies told to Dr. Felicity, the elaborate web he had woven around all of them.

"I want to believe that," she whispered, allowing vulnerability to show in her eyes—calculated, but not entirely false.

Julian's expression softened. "Then believe it. I'm here, with you, because there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Later that night, as they walked along the riverfront where they'd had their first real conversation, Piper steeled herself for the next phase of her plan.

"I spoke to my mother yesterday," she said casually. "She mentioned meeting you at some faculty event."

Julian's stride didn't falter. "Yes, briefly. She's an impressive woman. I can see where you get your intelligence."

"She seemed quite taken with you," Piper continued, watching his profile in the moonlight. "Said you had a 'magnetic presence.'"

"That's flattering," Julian replied with a modest smile. "Though I was probably just being polite. You're the Reynolds woman who captures my attention."

The lie slid from his lips so effortlessly that Piper almost admired his skill. Almost.

"You know," she said, stopping to face him, "I've been thinking about inviting you to dinner at my mother's house. It seems silly that two important people in my life barely know each other."

Something unreadable flashed across Julian's features before he nodded. "I'd like that. Family is important to you; I want to be part of that world."

"Perfect," Piper said, smiling up at him. "I'll arrange it soon."

The following afternoon, Piper sat in a quiet café three blocks from campus, her hands wrapped around a mug of chai tea as she waited. The bell above the door jingled, and Dr. Felicity entered, scanning the room before spotting Piper in the corner booth.

"Thank you for meeting me outside of office hours," Piper said as the therapist slid into the seat across from her. "I know it's irregular."

"These are irregular circumstances," Dr. Felicity replied, unwinding her scarf. She looked tired, the professional polish of her therapy sessions somewhat diminished in this casual setting. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"

"I'm already doing it," Piper said, leaning forward. "I'm playing along with Julian's game while gathering information. But I need to know more about what we're dealing with. You said you had concerns about him—beyond the obvious ethical issues."

Dr. Felicity signaled to the waitress for coffee before answering. "My professional instinct tells me Julian fits the profile of someone with highly manipulative tendencies. He's not just a charming man dating multiple women—he's systematically creating emotional dependencies."

"For what purpose?"

"Control. Validation. Perhaps something darker." Dr. Felicity paused as the waitress delivered her coffee. When she was gone, the therapist continued in a lower voice. "After our last session, I did something I've never done before—I reached out to a colleague who specializes in manipulative personality types. Without naming Julian, I described his behavior patterns."

"And?"

"She confirmed my suspicions. Julian shows classic signs of someone who views relationships as conquests rather than connections. The fact that he's specifically targeting women connected to you suggests this is about more than just romantic interest."

Piper absorbed this, turning her mug slowly between her palms. "He's treating us like an experiment. Testing how far he can push boundaries, how thoroughly he can infiltrate my life."

"I believe so," Dr. Felicity agreed. "Which makes confronting him directly potentially dangerous. These types don't respond well to exposure."

"I'm not planning a confrontation—not yet." Piper's voice hardened. "I'm planning a reckoning."

Dr. Felicity studied her with concern. "Piper, I understand your anger, but as your therapist—"

"You can't be just my therapist anymore," Piper interrupted. "You're part of this. He's drawn you into his web just like he did with my mother and me. The only way out is through."

The therapist was silent for a long moment, internal conflict visible on her face. "You're right," she finally said. "Professional boundaries have already been crossed—not by choice, but by circumstance. So yes, I'll help you. But we need to be careful. What exactly are you proposing?"

Piper outlined her emerging plan—a strategy to turn Julian's manipulation tactics back on him, to create a situation where he would reveal his true nature not just to them, but to himself.

"It's risky," Dr. Felicity cautioned when Piper finished. "And it puts you in continued contact with someone who's actively manipulating you."

"I know the risks," Piper said firmly. "But I also know what happens if we do nothing. He moves on to the next woman, the next family, leaving emotional devastation in his wake. I can't let that happen."

Dr. Felicity nodded slowly. "Then we do this carefully. And you stay in regular contact with me throughout."

"Agreed." Piper hesitated before adding, "There's one more thing. My mother needs to know what we're doing."

"Have you spoken with her about Julian since discovering their... connection?"

"Not yet. But I will tonight."

Marion Reynolds's face cycled through shock, denial, and shame as Piper laid out the evidence of Julian's manipulation—the identical romantic gestures, the parallel declarations of unique connection, the calculated insertion of himself into every aspect of Piper's life.

"I don't believe it," Marion said weakly, but her eyes told a different story. "He wouldn't—"

"He would and he did," Piper cut in, pacing her mother's kitchen. "The same way he approached my therapist. The same way he's probably approaching other women we don't even know about."

Marion sank into a chair, her elegant composure crumbling. "I thought... I really thought I was special to him."

"That's his talent," Piper said, softening slightly at her mother's obvious distress. "Making each woman feel like the only one who truly understands him, when he's the one studying us like lab specimens."

"How long have you known? About him and me?"

"Long enough." Piper sat across from her mother, pushing the necklace box across the table. "This was in his overnight bag. It's for you."

Marion's hands trembled as she opened the box, reading the card with its intimate message. "Oh God," she whispered. "What kind of man does this?"

"The kind who enjoys watching us dance to his tune," Piper replied. "The question is—are you ready to change the music?"

Marion looked up, her initial shock hardening into something fiercer. "What do you need me to do?"

Piper explained her plan—the dinner party, the careful coordination with Dr. Felicity, the strategic exposure of Julian's web of manipulation.

"He'll deny everything," Marion warned. "Men like this always do."

"That's why we need irrefutable evidence," Piper agreed. "And that's where you come in. I need you to invite him over, tell him you want to 'clear the air' before the dinner party. Wear the wire Dr. Felicity is providing. Get him to talk about your relationship."

Marion straightened, a glint of her former confidence returning. "I can do that. He thinks I'm desperately in love with him—afraid of losing him to my younger, prettier daughter. I'll play into that fear."

Piper reached across the table to squeeze her mother's hand. "This isn't just about revenge, Mom. It's about making sure he can't do this to anyone else."

"I know." Marion's eyes filled with tears. "I should have protected you from him. Instead, I became part of the problem."

"We were both manipulated," Piper said firmly. "But now we have something Julian doesn't expect."

"What's that?"

Piper's expression hardened with resolve. "Each other. And the truth."

Three days later, Piper sent Julian a carefully worded text:

*I'm organizing a small birthday dinner for my mother this Saturday. Just us and one of her friends. Would mean so much if you could come. She's been asking about you.*

His reply came quickly: *I'd be honored. Should I bring anything?*

*Just yourself,* Piper wrote back. *Mom says her friend is eager to meet you—apparently she's heard wonderful things.*

As she set down her phone, Piper felt a cold clarity settle over her. Julian thought he was walking into another conquest—another chance to dazzle a room full of women with his charisma and attention.

Instead, he was walking into a carefully orchestrated revelation of his true self.

"We're not your mirrors anymore," she whispered to her reflection as she prepared for their final act. "Tonight, we hold the light."