Chapter 327 I was close

Chapter 327: Chapter 327 I was close

Author’s POV

Sylvia dialed the number the moment the wine glass left her hand.

"He’s here," she said, the second the rogue leader picked up. "Alone. No Guard, no colors, nothing to protect him. This is what I paid you for. Move now, tonight, before he gets his footing."

There was a long pause on the other end. Then a dry, unbothered laugh.

"You paid us once," the rogue said. "That doesn’t make us your dogs, ma’am. We take contracts. We don’t take orders."

"You—"

The line went dead.

Sylvia stared at the phone, her jaw tightening until it ached. These animals had been reliable once. Back when Byron Finch ran them, one word and they’d bury a body without a sound.

But Byron Finch had vanished months ago, dropped off the map like he’d never existed, and without a leash they’d turned into exactly what they were. Wild. Useless. Loyal to no one.

She poured herself another glass with an unsteady hand.

*Fine.* She’d handle the King the old-fashioned way.

---

Across the ocean, in a city that never quite slept, Ethan Holt was playing a longer game.

He’d been the one to nudge Julian toward Clara. A quiet word here, an arranged meeting there. And it was working better than he’d dared hope—the two of them were falling into something fast and warm, and every hour they spent together was another hour Ethan didn’t have to look at his own guilt.

Julian was too distracted to notice he was being played. He’d just gotten off the phone with his investigator.

The report on his lost sister had finally cracked open.

The girl had been passed between foster homes like a package no one wanted to sign for. By middle school she was living on scholarships and small loans, alone. The detective had burned weeks tracking down one family that had taken her in, only to find they barely remembered her. Not even her name.

"The teachers called her *Ria*," Julian read aloud, frowning at the file. "So that’s what they called her too. Said they meant to rename her once she settled in, but then they had two of their own and passed her along again."

Clara sat beside him, a hand on his knee, her expression the picture of gentle sympathy.

"There’s more." Something like hope crept into his voice.

"A few years later they heard she’d placed second in the city math olympiad. Six years old. She got invited to a winter camp—hosted by some famous athlete, twenty years back. Ten kids went free. Top ten scorers in the city."

He looked up, composure slipping into raw excitement. "Once I reach the people who ran that camp, I’ll have her file. I’m *close*, Clara. I can feel it."

Clara had gone very still.

"What is it?"

She blinked, surfacing from somewhere far away, and gave a soft laugh. "That winter camp. I was there too. I was one of the ten."

Her voice was smooth, almost nostalgic. Underneath it, a cold thread pulled tight.

Because that camp was where everything with Ethan had begun. And it had all come to nothing in the end. The girl Ethan had spent years hunting came from that camp. Now the sister Julian was chasing came from the same place.

*Coincidence,* she told herself. *Or a curse.*

"You were *there*?" Julian’s whole face lit up, the reserved man gone entirely. "What are the odds. Maybe you two crossed paths without even knowing it."

"Maybe we did." Clara smiled. "What a small world."

"It’s a sign." He pulled her into him, unable to stop smiling. "You showing up right when I’m about to find her. It has to mean something."

"I’m happy for you," she murmured against his chest. "You’ll finally have your family back."

"It’s what my mother wanted." His voice dropped, the old grief surfacing. She’d left the child in a shelter decades ago, unable to face what she’d done, and carried that shame to her grave. Only a letter, found afterward, had asked her son to bring the girl home.

"To lose your own child like that." Clara’s eyes shone, her sympathy flawless. "She must have had such a hard life."

Julian softened at the sight of her. For weeks she’d been different—warmer, gentler, thinking of someone other than herself. He’d worried once that her kindness was a mask, a way to find shelter after ten years of being used. But this looked real.

"Every time I picture what she went through, it kills me," he said, stroking her back. "If I find her, I’ll love her enough for two lifetimes. Make up for all of it."

Something flickered in Clara’s eyes, small and dark. She pressed closer and pouted, teasing with an edge underneath.

"So once you find her, does your girlfriend get pushed aside? All that love, gone to her?"

"Of course not." He caught the jealousy and his chest tightened at it. "You matter too. It’s just different."

"But you feel so guilty about her. You’ll always put her first." Clara sat up, sulking. "What if she doesn’t like me? What then?"

"That won’t happen. If you’re good, she’ll adore you."

"Listen to you." Clara laughed lightly. "What could I possibly do to your sister? Even if she hated me, I’d swallow it for your sake. But you understand, don’t you? No woman wants to share the man she loves. Not even with his sister."

She turned to face him fully, her voice going quiet and serious.

Julian only heard two words. *The man she loves.*

And for once, she didn’t sound like she was performing.

"It won’t come to that," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He laughed softly. "If my sister doesn’t like you, I’ll change her mind. And if that doesn’t work—if I truly had to choose between you—"

He paused.

"I’d choose her."

Clara froze. She’d expected sweet nothings. Not the truth.

She turned, staring at him.

Julian caught her expression and burst out laughing. "You little fool. If the two of you ever fight, I’ll let her win. But I’m *yours*. My heart stays with you. Always."

To him it was the most romantic thing he could offer. Devotion wasn’t lying to someone. It was choosing them, honestly, forever.

Clara didn’t want that kind of romance. To her, the answer landed as pure disappointment.

Still, seeing him so content, she laughed after a moment and cupped his face, kissing him.

"You’re right," she whispered. "You’re all I need."

He kissed her back, and she leaned in, willing to give him everything—but at the last step he stopped, propping a hand on the couch, looking down at her with aching tenderness.

"We can’t. You’ve been hurt once already. Not until we’re settled. I won’t touch you before then."

"Julian... don’t you believe me?" She frowned. "There’s only you now."

"It’s not that. I just want to give us time. This is all still so fast."

He smoothed the crease between her brows, glanced at the clock, then scooped her up and carried her upstairs.

Clara held on to him, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest. No one had ever handled her like she was something precious. With Ethan there had only ever been heat.

She’d always believed keeping a man’s heart meant constant vigilance, a careful mask, holding him in place even when she felt nothing at all.

Without that, she had no safety.