Chapter 50
Julian's POV
I didn't deny it. Couldn't. "She thinks I'm not a good person. That we have incompatible values."
Zachary's eyebrows shot up. "Well, she's not wrong about the first part. You've been swimming in political shit for years—legal shit, sure, but still shit. But if she's got you this twisted up, she must be something special. What kind of woman makes a lone wolf like you lose your composure?"
I took another drink, letting the whiskey sting. "She doesn't fear me. Doesn't need me. She'll challenge my decisions to my face if she thinks they hurt vulnerable people. Everyone else in Blackwood approaches me because they want something—power, favors, connections. She's the only one who doesn't."
Zachary let out a low whistle. "You're fucked, man. Completely fucked."
Zachary walked to the bar, pulled a box of Cuban cigars from the drawer, and sat down beside me, handing me one.
Smoke rose slowly in the firelight. Zachary's expression softened into something resembling sympathy. "You want to know the secret to getting a woman?"
I stared at him, curious what advice this old hand at romance could offer.
"Be proactive. Be persistent. Be shameless."
I gave him a flat look. "I'm a Federal Inspector General."
"So what? You think women fall in love with your title?" Zachary shook his head. "Julian, power and strategy work in politics. In love, that shit means nothing. You have to take the initiative, drop the act, and let her see that you're not some untouchable authority figure. You're just a man who gets jealous, gets hurt, and gets stupidly happy over a text message." He paused, then added with a grin, "By the way, I'm engaged. Emma graduates from Aetheria's business school this semester, and we're getting married right after."
"Congratulations," I said automatically.
"You know how I won her over?" Zachary continued, ignoring my mechanical response. "I bought her Starbucks every morning and delivered it to her classroom. When she said she didn't want to see me, I waited outside anyway. When she blocked me, I got a new number and kept texting. Three months later, she finally gave in. You know why? Because she saw I was serious."
I stared into the fire, watching the flames dance. "That's different."
"Yeah, it is. I grew up spoiled as hell with skin thicker than a rhino's. But you—" Zachary's voice dropped, losing its usual levity. "You came out of the military and went straight into politics. You haven't dated seriously since, and everyone around you has an agenda. So when you finally meet someone who makes you feel something real, you don't know what to do with it. You're afraid of losing control, of showing weakness, of getting rejected. But here's the thing, Julian—love is about losing control. It's about exposing your weakness. It's about risking rejection. Otherwise, all you get is a transaction, not a relationship."
The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I set down my glass and rubbed my face, exhaustion seeping into my bones. "I have very few friends. Everyone who gets close to me wants something. Except her. She treats me like an ordinary person. She doesn't care who I am—only what I do. That feeling..." I trailed off. "I haven't experienced that in a very long time."
Zachary sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Then you need to fight for it. Julian, you don't lack power or status. You lack someone who gives a damn about the man behind the title. If you've found that, don't let go. She blocked you? Go see her in person. She rejects you? Try again. Alphas don't win women with words—they win them with action."
I sat in silence for a long moment, letting his words sink in. The fire crackled. The whiskey warmed my chest. And somewhere deep in that empty space where Nora's absence had carved itself out, something shifted—from resignation to resolve.
I stood up. "Thanks, Zach."
Zachary raised an eyebrow from his position sprawled in the armchair. "Leaving already? There's half a bottle left."
"I have things to handle."
"Going after your social worker?"
I didn't answer, just headed for the door.
"Hey, Julian!" Zachary called after me, that grin back in his voice. "Don't just stand there like a wooden post when you see her. Women like men who can actually talk!"
I didn't turn around, but my mouth quirked up in the first real smile I'd managed in days. Outside, the cold air hit me like a slap, clearing my head. I slid into the Lincoln, the engine turning over with that familiar rumble Zachary had criticized, and pulled out my phone.
Ethan answered on the second ring. "Sir?"
"Tomorrow morning. Seven AM. We're going to Silverton."
---
Nora's POV
After leaving the café, I returned to the apartment. It was cold and empty, just like it had been for the past two weeks. I dropped my bag by the door and stood there for a moment, staring at the familiar space that suddenly felt alien. The silence pressed against my ears, thick and suffocating.
I walked to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water I didn't want, and sat down on the couch. My fingers traced the edge of the cushion as my mind replayed the afternoon like a film reel I couldn't stop. Victoria's perfectly made-up face, cold and calculating. That voice dripping with contempt. "Be my son's mistress." The medical bill she'd shoved at me like a weapon. The threat hanging in the air—your aunt's family.
My throat tightened. I'd spent a year trying to build something real with Kyle, trying to prove that two people from different worlds could make it work if they just cared enough. And all along, I'd been drowning in debt I never knew existed, while his mother kept a running tab of every dollar like ammunition for this exact moment.
I needed answers. Not from Victoria. Not from some carefully constructed PR spin. I needed to hear it from Kyle himself—one last time.
My hand moved before I could second-guess it, pulling out my phone and dialing his number. The line rang twice before someone picked up.