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Julian's POV
Julian despised hospitals.
Antiseptic and all the hum of machines made him feel uncomfortable. He had spent a few days on that sterile bed, which gave him plenty of time to think, and none of the thoughts were positive. His body healed faster than the doctors had expected, but his ribs still hurt when he took deep breaths. His mother called it "resilience." His father called it "PR luck."
He called it exhausting.
Now he was back at Thorne Enterprises, sitting behind a desk he hadn't asked to return to, watching the same news replay for the hundredth time.
Julian Thorne survives a near-fatal crash. Mystery girl saves the heir apparent.
Who is Elara Vance? The scholarship student who captured the city's heart.
He muted the TV. He didn't need to hear the resthe knew it by heart. Every morning, the tabloids added a new detail: "the secret romance," "the quiet hero," "the couple that defied class."
It would've been laughable if it hadn't been his life.
Eleanor swept into his office without knocking, heels crisp against marble. His mother had perfected the art of turning concern into control.
"You look better," she said, which was Thorne's code for you're presentable again.
"Define better," he muttered.
"Alive," she said simply, taking the seat opposite him. "And headline-worthy."
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Mother"
She raised a manicured finger. "Julian, we have a situation to manage. The footage is everywhere. You're staring up at that girl like she's the second coming. People have written fanfiction, for God's sake."
He almost laughed. "Then let them. It'll fade."
Eleanor's eyes sharpened. "It won't. You know how quickly rumors spreadand the old ones are resurfacing."
Ah. Those rumors. The ones about him being "too private," "too close" to his male friends, "not interested in women." As if orientation were a stock price that needed constant reassurance.
"Father's already seen the sentiment metrics," she continued. "Half our board thinks you staged the whole thing."
Julian leaned back, ignoring the ache in his shoulder. "So your solution is what, exactly?"
Before she could answer, Arthur walked in. No knock. No hesitation. He never needed. This was his building, his world.
"We're not debating it," his father said. "We're executing it."
Julian sighed. "Executing what?"
Arthur folded his arms. "The relationship. With the girl."
He blinked. "You're serious?"
"Entirely," Arthur replied. "She saved you, didn't she? The media already believes you're involved. We're simply confirming it."
"Simply by... lying," Julian spoke in a tone that was devoid of any emotion.
Arthur grinned, but it was a fake smile, one that not even his eyes participated in. "By managing the narrative. She will be your public girlfriend. We will smooth out your image, put an end to the rumors, and make everybody remember that Thornes are always born with a silver spoon in their mouth."
Julian reclined in his chair away from the desk, wincing as the pain shot through his ribs. "She's not a tool."
"Neither are you," Arthur said. "But you play your part regardless."
Eleanor's tone softened, but only slightly. "Julian, this protects you as much as it protects us. The internet adores her. You look human againaccessible, grateful, romantic. It's a win on every front."
He stared out the window at the skyline stretching far below. "You're asking me to turn her life into PR material."
"I'm asking you to fix the mess you created by nearly dying in public," Arthur replied.
There it was. The Thorne philosophy in one sentence: no emotion, just damage control.
Julian exhaled slowly. "And what if she says no?"
"She won't," Eleanor said. "She's sensible. The kind of girl who knows when to accept an opportunity."
He almost told them about the fear in Elara's eyes the night of the crash, way she'd knelt in the dirt, shaking, trying to save him while everyone else just filmed. She wasn't chasing fame. She didn't even want it.
But what was the point? His parents wouldn't understand humility if it slapped them with a lawsuit.
Hours later, when Elara walked into the office, the exhaustion in her eyes hit him harder than any crash.
She looked smaller than he remembered, standing across from the desk, trying to appear calm. There was dried fear in her posture, though, and something elseanger maybe, or disbelief.
"Ms Vance," he said, voice lower than usual. "Thank you for coming."
He didn't know what he expected her to saymaybe that this was all insane. That she wanted no part of it. He would've respected that.
Instead, she nodded politely. "Of course."
Then his mother took over, guiding the conversation like a script she'd already rehearsed a hundred times. Julian barely spoke until Arthur arrived and sealed the deal like signing a merger.
Julian watched her stand, the scrape of her chair cutting through the stillness like a final verdict.
Eleanor's voice had already retreated into the distant; his dad had finished saying everything. Only the sound of her heartbeat, or perhaps it was his own, remained. He uttered her name softly, almost tenderly. "Ms. Vance. If you'll come with me… we have a lot to discuss." There was a tiny pause before she gave a nod. No more fighting, just submission. He loathed that expression on her face. How she tensed up, how she tried to grab on to the little power she had left. They walked out of the boardroom with him leading. He could feel the burden of the recent event coming down on him like a tempest.
The sound of her heels on the marble floor was echoing loudly behind him, crisp and slow, just like someone advancing toward an unagreed sentence. He chose not to turn around. The reason was simple. Because once he turned, he would surely freeze and not walk anymore. His mother's words had not yet been completely erased from his mind: You'll be responsible for her. Keep her nearby. Make it pure. His father's voice that followed was nonchalant: "She is a risk. Take control before it takes you down."
Control. That word defined every corner of his life.
And now, it had a face.
Elara Vance.
The girl who had been a lifesaver for him and the one he was about to destroy. The elevator doors shut behind them and sealed off the outside world, along with whatever little liberty she might still have.