The studio still smelled like fresh paint and dreams.
The walls were half-finished, a soft cream tone that hadn't quite dried. There were open boxes near the window, a vision board tacked with fabric swatches and lipstick tubes in every undertone. The name Selena Hart Beauty was scribbled in gold marker on a mirror, a promise rather than a logo.
It was messy.
Unpolished.
And entirely hers.
Selena was mid-discussion with the electrician when the door opened without a knock.
She turned.
And everything inside her stilled.
Julian Wolfe stood in the doorway, suit jacket slung over his arm, no assistant, no entourage, no cameras. Just him — the man who had disappeared from her life like a ghost with unfinished business.
Her arms folded across her chest instinctively; guarded, cool.
"Wrong address?" she asked, voice sharp with disbelief.
Julian didn't answer. He walked slowly across the concrete floor, every footstep echoing in the open space between them. In his hand, a slim black envelope.
When he reached her, he held it out.
"What is this?" she asked, not moving.
He looked her straight in the eyes. "Deed paperwork."
Selena blinked. "Deed to what?"
"A beauty plaza. Ten thousand square feet. Already zoned, utilities, parking, rooftop terrace for events. It's yours."
She stared at him, pulse picking up. "Mine?"
"In your name," he said. "No strings, no Wolfe branding, no PR team."
Selena didn't take the envelope. "Why?"
Julian's voice softened, losing all its usual cool precision. "Because I got it wrong."
A silence stretched.
He went on, slowly like the words were costing him something.
"I treated you like a placeholder," he said. "Like a strategy. A temporary headline. I told myself that's all you were because it was easier than admitting you were the whole plan."
Selena's throat tightened.
"I didn't see it then," Julian said, his voice growing quieter, "Not until you left, not until the silence."
She shook her head fighting the emotion rising up. "You should've said this then, before the emails, before Savannah."
"I know." His jaw flexed. "I thought I had time. I thought business could fix what I broke, I thought you'd come back if I just made it easier for you."
Selena's lips parted, her breath sharp. "So this plaza… is that what this is? Your idea of an apology wrapped in concrete and square footage?"
"No." Julian's eyes never left hers. "There's no campaign. No revival. I'm not here as Wolfe Global."
His voice dropped, raw and real.
"I'm here as a man who lost the only woman who ever made him feel real."
The room was suddenly too quiet.
Even the electrician had quietly slipped out.
Selena stared at him — the man who once made her feel like an accessory to a machine — now standing in her chaos, in her world, offering something far more terrifying than money.
Honesty.
Her hand hovered over the envelope but she didn't take it.
"You think giving me a building is going to fix everything?" she whispered.
Julian shook his head. "No. I think nothing will but I'd give you every building in this city if it meant hearing your voice again."
Selena's lashes fluttered, her mask cracked.
"It was never about a plaza, Julian," she said, barely above a whisper.
He nodded slowly. "Then tell me what it is about."
She swallowed hard.
"And I'll fight for it."
Selena looked down at the envelope. Her hand trembled slightly.
This wasn't the Julian who negotiated across glass tables and gave commands like a war general. This was something else, something that scared her more than betrayal ever had.
Vulnerability.
Real, dangerous, unscripted vulnerability.
Her heart hovered at the edge of a cliff — one she swore she'd never return to after surviving the last fall.
But this time… he wasn't standing on the other side with a contract.
He was standing with his heart in his hands.
And maybe… just maybe…
He wasn't the only one afraid.
Selena looked up, eyes locking with his.
And said nothing.
Not yet.