His hand found mine, warm fingers squeezing once. "Ready?" he asked, his voice pitched low for my ears alone.
I scanned the restaurant until I spotted Brad in the corner booth, his fingers drumming nervously against a sleek metal case that I knew contained the Project Phoenix data.
My stomach clenched at the sight of it—Julian's hope for walking again, his years of research, now in the hands of my backstabbing brother.
"More than ready," I replied, my eyes never leaving Brad's figure.
Brad hadn't seen us yet. He was too busy checking his watch and glancing anxiously at the door. The data drive sat on the table in front of him, his fingers constantly returning to tap against the sleek metal case like it was some kind of security blanket. He looked expensive but uncomfortable in his designer suit—like a kid playing dress-up in his father's clothes.
We approached the table, and I watched the moment Brad spotted us. His expression shifted rapidly—surprise, then calculation, then a twisted mask of resentment that he didn't bother hiding.
"Playing happy couple with your sugar daddy?" he sneered as we reached the table, his gaze flicking between Julian's wheelchair and my face.
Despite the crude taunt, what struck me most was what I saw underneath—raw jealousy radiating off him in waves. Brad, the golden child who'd always had everything, was jealous of me.
The realization was almost dizzying.
I slid into the booth beside Julian, feeling the solid warmth of his shoulder against mine. "We're not playing anything," I replied, my voice cooler than I'd intended, but somehow perfect for the moment.
Brad's eyes narrowed, darting between us with increasing agitation. "Must be nice marrying into billions while the rest of us struggle."
The bitter edge in his voice almost made me laugh. Brad had never struggled a day in his life—he'd been given every advantage, every opportunity, while I'd worked my way through community college one class at a time.
Julian shifted beside me, his posture subtly changing from businessman to predator. His smile remained perfectly polite, but something dangerous flickered in his dark eyes.
"Struggle? Is that what you call selling your brother to a predator?" Julian's voice was silk wrapped around steel.
Brad flinched visibly before recovering his composure, his shoulders squaring defensively. "Business is business. Nothing personal."
"Nothing personal," I echoed, the words tasting like poison. "Selling your brother to be drugged, raped, and eventually murdered was just business?"
I felt Julian tense beside me, his hand finding mine under the table. We'd planned this meeting so differently. I was supposed to play the victim, to pretend I was afraid of Julian and needed Brad's help to escape. The elaborate ruse we'd concocted back at the penthouse had seemed so clever, so perfect.
But sitting here, facing Brad's smug face across the table, I suddenly knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't pretend to be afraid of Julian, couldn't pretend our relationship was anything but what it was becoming—a partnership built on mutual respect and growing trust.
Brad wouldn't believe it anyway. The jealousy in his eyes was too raw, too real. He'd see through any attempt to play on his savior complex because what he wanted wasn't to save me—it was to possess what I had, to take it from me just like he'd always taken everything.
I met Julian's eyes briefly, a silent message passing between us. We needed a new strategy, and we needed it now.
"Cat got your tongue?" Brad smirked, misinterpreting our silent exchange as uncertainty. "Or did your wheelchair sugar daddy not brief you on what to say?"
Julian's fingers tightened around mine beneath the table—not in anger, but in support. He knew I was changing the plan. He was letting me lead.
The realization sent a rush of warmth through me that had nothing to do with the restaurant's temperature. No one had ever trusted me to lead before. No one had ever valued my judgment enough to follow it without question.
"I think," I said slowly, finding my way forward word by word, "that you've spent your entire life resenting me for reasons I never understood. I think you've always been jealous, even when there was nothing to be jealous of."
Brad's face darkened. "You think I'm jealous of you? The family charity case?"
"Yes," I replied simply. "I do. Because even when Mom and Dad treated me like I was worthless, there was something in me they couldn't touch. Something they couldn't break. And you've never had that."
The hit landed. I could see it in the way Brad's jaw tightened, in the sudden whitening of his knuckles around his glass.
I leaned forward slightly, dropping my voice. "But it's not too late to do the right thing, Brad. Not completely."
Julian remained silent beside me, a steady presence lending me strength as I abandoned our carefully constructed plan and forged a new path forward—one that felt more honest, more true to who I was becoming.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't following someone else's script. I wasn't the supporting character in my own story.
