The heavy mahogany doors of the Thorne study didn't just keep people out; they muffled the sound of a soul breaking.
Inside, the air smelled of ancient paper and the bitter sting of expensive scotch. Julian stood on the Persian rug, his reflection caught in the glass of a bookcase. In his custom-tailored tuxedo, with his jawline sharp enough to cut glass and his stormy blue eyes, he looked like a prince. He looked like the man who had everything.
But his heart was miles away, in the back row of a dusty lecture hall.
"Sign it, Julian." Arthur Thorne's voice was as cold as a winter morning. He pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk, a pre-marital agreement that effectively sold Julian's life to a girl he had never met, all for the sake of a steel merger.
Julian stared at the signature line. Normally, he would have signed it just to keep the peace, to keep the money flowing, to keep his empty life moving. But he couldn't stop thinking about her. He thought about Elara, the way she looked when she was defending her "principled" world, the way her hazel eyes sparked with fire behind those thick glasses, and the way she had looked at him just yesterday, seeing through his mask as if he were made glass.
He had fallen for her. The "nerd" had done what no socialite ever could: she had made him want to be someone worth knowing. If he signed this, he wasn't just signing a contract; he was betraying the only real thing he had ever felt.
"I'm not signing it, Dad," Julian said, his voice quiet but dangerously steady.
Arthur's eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?"
"I'm done being a stock option," Julian said, his hands tightening into fists. "I won't marry a girl I don't know for a company I don't even want. There's someone... there's someone else. Someone who actually expects me to be a man, not a pawn."
The blow came so fast it was almost a blur. The heavy signet ring on Arthur's hand caught Julian's jaw with a sickening thud. Julian staggered back, his vision swimming, the taste of copper filling his mouth. He didn't fall, he wouldn't give his father that satisfaction—but the world felt like it was tilting on its axis.
"Get out," Arthur hissed, his face contorted with a lethal rage. "And don't come back until you're ready to be a Thorne. Otherwise, you're nothing. You'll have nothing."