They are not yours

The interior of Julian’s Maybach was a tomb of black leather and silence. Elara sat as far from him as possible, her back pressed against the door, her fingers curled into fists. She had raised two human beings on her own. A billionaire in a suit didn't scare her anymore. If anything, he only made her angry.

Julian didn’t speak. He stared straight ahead.

"You’re kidnapping me," Elara said, her voice steady and cold. "That’s a felony, Julian. Even for someone who thinks they own the city."

Julian’s jaw tightened. "I’m taking you somewhere we can talk without a hundred cameras watching us. If you want to call the police, go ahead. My lawyers will have the case dismissed before you finish your statement, and then I’ll have every reason to dig into your life with a microscope. Is that what you want?"

He turned his head then, his dark eyes searching hers. He expected her to flinch.

She didn't. She stared back, her chin lifted. "Threatening me within five minutes of finding out I’m alive? You really haven't changed. You’re still a coward who hides behind his checkbook."

A flash of pain crossed his face before he masked it. "I’m the coward? You’re the one who let me believe you were dead. Do you have any idea what that does to a man?"

"It probably made your father very happy," she snapped. "And since you always did what he wanted, I figured I was doing you a favor."

The car pulled up to the private entrance of the Vance Plaza Hotel. The door was opened by a silent chauffeur, and Julian stepped out, extending a hand to her. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command.

Elara ignored his hand and stepped out on her own, smoothing her stained catering vest. She walked past him toward the elevator, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

They ascended to the penthouse in silence. When the doors opened, she was greeted by a space of glass and steel, overlooking the glowing veins of Manhattan. Julian shed his jacket, tossing it onto a velvet sofa, and headed straight for the crystal decanter on the sideboard.

"Drink?" he asked, his voice low.

"I want to go home," she said, standing in the center of the room like a soldier in enemy territory. "I have... responsibilities."

"The twins." He didn't look at her as he poured the amber liquid. "Leo and Mia. Unusual names for a maid's daughter to pick. Or are they family names from the 'father's' side?"

Elara felt a chill, but she didn't let it show. "They’re my children, Julian. Just mine. I don't need a man’s name to validate their existence."

Julian turned, the glass held tight in his hand. He walked toward her until he was deep inside her personal space. He was much taller than her. "Five years ago, you left my bed and vanished. Nine months later, two children are born. You expect me to believe the math is a coincidence?"

"I expect you to stay out of my life," she countered, stepping into his space instead of away. She poked a finger into his hard chest. "You walked away from me, remember? You told me I was a distraction. You told me your legacy was more important than some 'fling' with the help. Well, congratulations, Julian. You got your legacy. You got the towers and the billions. Leave me and my children out of it."

Julian’s eyes burned. He set his drink down on a nearby table without taking his eyes off her. "I never told you that."

"Your father did. On your behalf. With a check that I tore up and threw in his face."

Julian froze. "My father told you... what?"

"It doesn't matter now." Elara turned to leave, but he grabbed her waist, spinning her back.

This time, she didn't just stand there. She brought her hand up, stopping just short of his face, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Touch me again without my permission, and I will make sure the 'Billionaire of the Year' spends the night in a hospital bed. I am not that girl anymore, Julian. I’ve fought harder things than you."

Julian let go, his hands hovering in the air as if burned.

"I’m not letting you leave until I know the truth," he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time. "If they are mine, Elara... if I have children out there..."

"They aren't yours," she lied again, her heart screaming. "They have a father. A man who stayed. A man who held my hand while I was in labor and who wipes their tears at night. Everything you aren't."

The lie hit him. Julian recoiled, his face turning a ghostly pale. For a moment, the powerful CEO looked like a shattered boy.

"Who?" he demanded, his voice trembling with suppressed violence. "Who is he?"

Elara saw her opening. If she could make him believe she was with someone else, someone powerful enough to protect her, he might back off.

"His name is none of your business," she said, moving toward the elevator. "But he’s expecting me. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, he’ll start looking. And unlike you, he doesn't use lawyers to solve his problems."

She pressed the button, the doors sliding open. She stepped inside and looked at Julian one last time. He was standing in the middle of his vast, lonely empire, looking more lost than she had ever been.

"Don't follow me, Julian," she said as the doors began to close. "For once in your life, do the honorable thing and stay dead to us."

As the elevator descended, Elara collapsed against the wall, her knees finally giving out. She pulled her phone out, her hands shaking violently. She dialed a number she hadn't called in months.

"Marcus?" she whispered when a deep voice answered. "It’s Elara. He found me. I need you to come to the apartment. Now."