Julian found a table at a quiet cafe to kill time. He had just finished his latte when a man appeared in the doorway.

Hat low, face masked, dark lenses shielding his eyes. Four eyes met—or Julian assumed they did. The man didn't hesitate; he walked straight to the table and sat.

Julian blinked, taking in the silhouette. He had underestimated Orca's obsession with privacy. Every inch of skin was covered, yet the man carried himself with a sharp, lethal precision that screamed high society. He looked less like an internet personality and more like an A-lister dodging paparazzi.

Is he a celebrity? Julian wondered.

No, the fans would have dismantled his identity by now if that were true. But the "stolen" quality of his presence was heavy. The private car, the separate meals, the clandestine shopping...

"Are you married?" Julian asked, a sudden spark of anxiety in his chest. "I don't film with married men."

A ten-second silence followed. Then, the muffled resonance of Orca's voice: "No."

Julian stared at the man's masked face, unconvinced.

"I'm not married," Orca repeated. "I'm not dating anyone."

Julian watched him through the dark lenses for a beat. "Fine. I believe you. Let's go."

Julian took charge of the itinerary. Since they were already heading toward the fireworks, they decided to spend the afternoon at the park. The weather held, and the crowds were manageable for the final day of the winter break. They managed to hit several attractions despite the late start.

The cold was the only predator. Julian was still in his skirt, and though his overcoat was heavy, hours of outdoor activity had turned his limbs to ice.

But the promise of the fireworks kept him anchored. They secured a decent vantage point, squeezed into the press of the crowd. As the first plumes ignited the New York City sky, time seemed to decelerate.

Julian loved the slow, rhythmic thump-thump of the explosions—the herald of something beautiful. But he loved the descent more. The way the sparks fell like burning rain, like dying stars.

The beginning was a rush, but the ending was a masterpiece of longing. Julian had grown accustomed to the cycle of experiencing and losing; he was an expert in the quiet management of regret.

Boom.

The sky fractured into gold. Julian looked up at the stars. Orca looked down at Julian, the fireworks reflecting in the dark void of his lenses.

When the show ended, they made their way back to the car. Julian had considered taking the subway home, but his clothes were still at the hotel. He climbed back into the sheepskin interior.

The ride back was a vacuum of sound. Neither of them spoke. Julian didn't know why Orca was silent, but he was too exhausted to bridge the gap. He closed his eyes, letting his battery drain.

"Want to hold hands?"

The voice was a low chord in the dark. Julian's eyes snapped open. "Why?"

"The video," Orca said. "You need the content."

Julian went quiet. A "one-day couple" video without a single interaction would be a hard sell to his followers. "Fine. Hold them."

Orca's hand was massive. The bones were thick, his grip a net that swallowed Julian's hand whole. It didn't feel like a date; it felt like a guardian anchoring a child to the earth.

"It's weird," Julian whispered. "Couples don't hold hands like this. Change it."

"Okay." Orca slid his fingers between Julian's, interlocking them.

The man's knuckles were prominent, the sensation of his hand filling every gap between Julian's fingers. Julian's face scorched. He'd only intended to shake hands, not this.

He was still debating whether to pull away when Orca spoke again. "Do you want a hug?"

Julian didn't answer.

"You hugged the athlete," Orca noted.

Julian had only hugged the athlete because he thought he was dying of skin hunger, a theory that had since been debunked. He hadn't planned on repeating the performance.

"Do you want to hug me?" Julian countered.

Orca watched him for a long beat. "Yes."

Julian gave a small nod. "Then hug me for a bit."

With a slight tug on their interlocked hands, Orca pulled Julian across the seat. It wasn't the total surrender Julian had expected; it was a gentlemanly, restrained hold. Only their shoulders and arms were in contact, yet the weight of it was an anchor.

A strange scent. A warm chest. Streetlights flickering across the car's upholstery like old film. Julian closed his eyes in Orca's arms and realized with a start: he hadn't thought of Samuel in hours.

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Two major shifts rocked Apex Capital after the New Year.

First, a new high-level executive descended: Eleanor Frost, Samuel's aunt, arrived to oversee Asset Management and Proprietary Trading.

Second, Samuel acquired a personal intern named Oliver Frost, a curly-haired boy with a silver tongue who treated everyone—even Julian—with a polished, practiced courtesy.

Oliver and Luke now handled all of Samuel's private affairs, effectively severing Julian's occasional role in the man's personal life. Contact with Samuel dwindled to a professional minimum. Julian reported almost exclusively to Asher.

Asher was a calm lake, a leader who provided safety but no friction. He was too gentle; his standards stopped at eighty percent. "Good," "Nice work," "Excellent"—Asher's feedback was a steady, lukewarm stream. He viewed Julian as an intern, and for an intern, eighty percent was more than enough.

Julian wanted ninety-nine percent. He wanted a hundred. Samuel had pushed him to the brink, forcing him to speak, to report, and to accelerate his efficiency until the process was a physical ache. That pain had yielded growth; Julian was no longer afraid of the podium, and his work rate had doubled.

He could feel ambition stirring within him—a sense of deservingness that had been foreign to the boy who once only followed orders.

He was hungry now. When his research report took first place and landed on the firm's official website, the taste of victory was addictive.

The Synapse AI project entered its critical phase alongside the Alderbrook Spirits deal. Julian's days were a blurred cycle of meetings and documentation.

Leo was right there with him, a fellow "scroll king" who seemed to have evolved past the need for sleep. While Julian survived on four cups of black coffee, Leo ran on pure adrenaline.