Julian didn't sleep the night after the call. He sat in his apartment, curtains drawn, city lights flickering against the glass as he stared into nothing. His thoughts ran in spirals, echoes of Grace's voice, her cold dismissal, the finality of her words.
They had never been official, never crossed that delicate line into being a couple. But he had tried. For four months, he had courted her. Gentle gestures, thoughtful dinners, patience where others would push. He had waited, hoping she would come to see what he already knew: they belonged together.
But now, it was slipping through his fingers. All because of Silas.
He couldn't sit idle. Not anymore.
When Grace opened the door to her penthouse later that evening, Julian stood there.
Not in a suit. Not styled or polished. Just him, bare, vulnerable, and trembling under the weight of what he was about to say.
"Julian?" she asked, surprised.
"I need to talk," he said. "Please."
She stepped aside, just enough to let him in.
Julian entered like a man walking into a memory. Slow, hesitant, haunted.
His voice trembled, not with anger but with aching need. "Grace, please don't walk away from me."
The quiet of the night settled over the terrace like a weighted silence. The city lights blinked in the distance, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Julian's chest. Grace stood with her back to him, spine straight, arms crossed loosely, she had heard him, and yet, the silence she offered was deafening.
"I know I've been trying for months," Julian continued, stepping closer. "And maybe I never said the right things or did them the right way. But what I feel for you isn't fake, Grace. It's never been."
She turned slowly, her expression unreadable. "Julian, I never promised you anything. You knew that."
He swallowed, taking another step. "I did. I knew. But I also believed if I showed you enough, loved you enough from a distance… you'd eventually let me in."
Grace's eyes softened for a moment, but only for a flicker. "That's the thing. You fell in love with the idea of me, not me."
Julian's laugh came out hollow. "Then tell me who you really are. Let me fall for that woman."
Her silence told him she wouldn't. Couldn't.
But he wasn't ready to let go.
He dropped to his knees, right there on the cold marble of the terrace, his hands gripping her wrists gently. "Just one chance. One dinner. One evening. Let me prove to you that I can make you feel safe. Cherished. Fuck, Grace, I'm not perfect, but I'd burn down my world for you."
She tried to pull back, but he tightened his hold. Not painfully, just desperately.
"Julian…"
"I dream about you every night. I wake up with your name in my throat. And now I see you with him, the man who's never once looked at you the way I do. Doesn't that mean anything?"
Her jaw tensed. "You don't know him."
"No," Julian said, standing now, voice rising with the burn of rejection, "but I know what kind of man he is. Charming. Calculated. Dangerous."
He looked at her like a man who'd already lost everything, and this was his final hand.
"I don't care if you hate me after this. But if I find out he hurts you, Grace... I'll end him. I swear to God, I'll ruin him with my bare hands."
Grace stared at him, eyes wide now. But she didn't step back. She didn't run. Instead, her expression shifted to something darker, deeper, like she was finally seeing him without the illusion.
"You already lost me, Julian," she whispered. "And what you're doing now... this isn't love."
"Please leave", she said softly, and something inside him cracked. A fissure turned into a fracture, and from that fracture came something else. Something dangerous.
Julian didn't speak. But the fire in his eyes said he would never stop watching.
Not until she was his.
Or no one's.
And Grace watched his back as he disappeared into the dark, rainy night.