JULIAN’S POV
She was right. We didn’t come here to adopt. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why those. words came out of my mouth. It was a gamble, a long shot at best. A part of me hoped that saying the right thing, even if it wasn’t true, would get us through the doors. And thankfully, it worked. We were in.
We got passed phase one.
But now, with that initial hurdle cleared, we had an even bigger problem looming ahead: Phase two. Figuring out exactly what we were going to ‘say next–what story. we’d spin, what excuse we’d give–without getting kicked out for good.
“I’m thinking of something,” I muttered in response to Olivia as we approached the main building but the truth? I was stalling. My mind was racing in every direction, trying to piece something together that would sound believable.
I blamed myself for this situation. I should’ve been more prepared. But I’d been distracted. That damn phone call had thrown me off balance, and now I was paying for it. And those bastards still wouldn’t talk, still holding back crucial information, and it consumed me more than I cared to admit.
And now here we were, fumbling through a lie with no exit strategy in place.
FLASHBACK
(A few Minutes After Olivia Sent the Address)
Ding.
The buzz from my phone echoed through the quiet room as I rubbed a towel through my damp hair. I didn’t need to look. I already knew it was Olivia sending the address, just like she said she would. No surprises there.
But then the buzzing continued. Not a message this time.
A call.
I turned my head toward the sound, narrowing my eyes at the screen. An unknown number flashed across it. I figured maybe it was Olivia using another number, one I hadn’t saved. That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.
Without thinking twice, I picked it up and brought the phone to my ear. “Don’t worry, Liv. I’ve received it and I’m on my way,” I said, walking back toward my dresser.
But the voice that replied wasn’t hers.
unlocked!?”
“Liv? Who is this Liv? And what e Successfully unlocked!
My whole body went rigid.
The voice was unmistakably female. It carried an oddly familiar tone, like a scent from
CHAPTER ON!
childhood suddenly wafting back into your life.
I froze.
The pause on my end must have said it all because she spoke again–this time more. playfully, with a hint of sarcasm. “Has the cat got your tongue, dear boy?”
And that’s when it hit me.
Like a slap to the face.
I should’ve recognized her voice the moment she spoke. How the hell did I not catch it?
“Mum…” I said, swallowing hard. “Uhmm… how are you doing today?”
I could practically hear the smirk on her face through the phone.
“How am I doing, you ask? Hm. How would a mother feel when her own son refuses to
tact her for months?”
ulse quickened. I started pacing.
s not like that, Mum. I’ve just been… really busy with work,” I stammered, already knowing how hollow that excuse sounded.
“Busy?” she repeated “You’re still out there working yourself to the bone when there’s a perfectly good company waiting for you to take over. And yet… you’re busy?”
Her voice cracked, the emotion creeping in fast. “Not even a simple hello, Julian.”
And just like that, I was cornered. Again.
She always did this–always found a way to twist the knife just deep enough to make me bleed guilt. Why did she have to do this every time?
“Come on, Mother… there’s no need to cry,” I said softly, trying to calm her down. I rubbed my temple with one hand, the stress already settling into my bones.
“Oh, I’m not crying,” she said, her voice sharpening like a blade.
In an instant, the tone shifted from fragile and emotional to cold and commanding. Just like that, the tears were gone. Or maybe they were never there to begin with.
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’ve been avoiding all our calls, boy,” she said, her voice taking on a hardened edge.
That voice–my mother’s voice–had the uncanny ability to change tones like shifting weather. One second, she was the soft, emotional woman who made you feel like her heart was breaking, and the next, she was a general leading troops into battle. Fierce, commanding, and terrifying when she needed to be. You did not want to get on her bad side. Trust me.
I sighed and ran a hand down my face. “Who gave you this number, Mom?” I asked, already having a strong suspicion.
“Who else but Damien?” she replied with casual sharpness.
24
CHAPTER OST
Of course. Damien.
I knew it. That slippery bastard. I shook my head, biting back a laugh. I wasn’t even really mad–just mildly betrayed in an almost comical way. I thought he had my back. Clearly, I thought wrong.
“I’m going to kill him when I see him,” I muttered half–jokingly, though I was definitely going to make him suffer–maybe hide his car keys or change his Netflix password. My mother didn’t laugh. Instead, she seized the opportunity like a hawk diving for prey. “So you were actually avoiding us.” Her tone took another sharp turn, laced with something more fragile now–disappointment. Maybe
I rubbed the back of my neck. Damn it. “Mom, you know the reason why. It’s the same reason I left the city and came here in the first place,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, trying not to sound like a rebellious son who ran away from home.
There was a brief pause on her end before she responded, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Julian, my dear boy… do you have any idea how many people would kill for the opportunity that was handed to you? Why would you throw that away?”
I closed my eyes. Here we go again.
“For the thousandth time, Mom,” I said, my voice tightening with frustration, “I don’t want that opportunity. I don’t want to be the CEO. I don’t want to sit behind a polished desk in a suit I hate, smiling through board meetings and pretending I care about stock percentages.”
“That’s not how this works,” she replied with calm insistence, the kind that told me she‘ d been rehearsing this line for months. “Someone needs to take over, Julian. And you‘ re our only child. That someone has to be you.”
I gritted my teeth. This was exactly why I didn’t want to answer her call in the first place. She hadn’t changed her mind. She hadn’t let it go. This was the only reason she was calling–to try and pull me back into the life I had worked so hard to escape.
My eyes scanned the room for any sort of out–any excuse to end this call without sounding like a total jerk. Then my gaze landed on a crumpled piece of paper near the edge of my desk.
Perfect.
I grabbed it without hesitation and held it close to the phone, crumpling it slowly next to the speaker.
“Hello? Can you hear me? The network is really bad over here,” I said, forcing static into my voice while rustling the paper dramatically.
“I can hear you perfectly,” she shot back, completely unimpressed. “And I know what you’re doing, Julian.”
Crap.
3/4
CHARTER DET
I crumpled the paper harder. “I can’t hear you! Curse you, network!” I said,
exaggerating my frustration before dramatically ending the call.
I let the phone slide out of my hand onto the desk and leaned back against the wall. Slowly, I let my head fall back, bumping it lightly against the drywall. Just enough to feel it.
The last time I spoke to my mom was the day before I met Olivia at the hospital. I’d been dodging her calls since then, dodging this conversation because I knew how it would go. She would guilt–trip me. She would paint herself as the helpless mother whose only son abandoned the family business. She would make me question my choices, even if for just a moment.
And now, thanks to that blockhead Damien, she had my new number.
To be fair, I could almost understand why he gave it to her. My mom didn’t take no for an answer. She probably backed him into a corner, emotionally blackmailed him, or nearly choked the life out of him with her words until he caved.
Yup, that sounded about right.
