---
Julian's jaw went tight.
He seemed, for a moment, anxious — almost like a child caught at something.
"Alright," he said finally. "I'll take care of it."
And he did, quickly and without ceremony.
He moved me to a townhouse near the university. Got me a new identity — the name on the documents read Lily Harrington. Apparently he also donated a new library wing to the university to get me enrolled, because within the week I was registered as a first-year psychology student.
After orientation, Julian took me to the campus dining hall for a meal.
He walked with a particular kind of quiet authority — the kind that draws eyes without trying. When he went to get food, the girl beside me leaned in.
"Is that your boyfriend?"
I looked at his straight back.
"My brother," I said.
"Oh my God — is he single?"
I watched the eagerness on the faces around the table and smiled.
"He is. But he's pretty old."
Julian came back right as I said it. The slight twitch at the corner of his eye told me he'd heard.
After dinner, I walked him to the parking lot.
He sat in the driver's seat and didn't start the engine.
"You're not getting in?"
"I'll just stay in the dorms. I'll be fine."
Despite how much warmer Julian had been toward me, things were still complicated. I'd been given a second life. I didn't want to tangle it with the Harrington family again — not when it might all fall apart anyway.
Julian's expression cooled by a fraction.
He got out of the car, picked me up — literally picked me up — and deposited me in the passenger seat. He locked the door.
Then he sat back behind the wheel, one hand resting on the steering wheel, and said with deceptive calm:
"So. You do think I'm old."
I shook my head quickly. "I didn't mean it like that—"
"From now on, you don't have to call me that anymore."
My heart gave a small, guilty lurch. He was drawing the line himself.
"Okay," I said.
"You can just call me old man," he said, teeth slightly clenched.
I stared straight ahead and did not respond.
Julian exhaled — slow, deliberate.
"Ivy. A lot of what happened before — Elaine made you do those things. You know that now. You don't have to keep carrying it.
"But honestly—" His voice dropped. "Is there really nothing there? No feelings at all? For me?"
My heart stumbled.
I looked down at my hands.
Then I gathered myself and asked the question I'd been afraid to ask:
"The little girl in the news. Your daughter. Did Elaine drug you for that too?"