chapter 6

Julian's POV

A sharp knock came at the door. My brows pulled together immediately, no one ever dared disturb me when I was in here.

Before I could even respond, the door cracked open and a timid face peeked through. Isabella. Her small voice followed, uncertain but steady enough to carry across the room.

“Sir… dinner is ready.”

The irritation flared instantly. My study was the only place I could breathe, the only space that still felt mine and she’d just walked in without my permission. I straightened in my chair, my gaze cutting to her like a blade.

“Did I permit you to enter here?” I asked, my voice low but sharp enough to make her flinch.

Her hand tightened nervously on the doorframe, her head bowing in quick apology. “I’m… I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to…”

I leaned back, watching her stumble over her words, the corner of my mouth twitching, not in amusement, but in restrained annoyance. She looked as if she had broken something priceless just by standing there.

I cut her off with a sharp flick of my hand. “Save your excuses. Next time, wait until I answer. I don’t tolerate intrusion.”

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something else, but the fear in her eyes swallowed the words before they could form. She lowered her head quickly, bowing once, twice, as if that would erase her mistake.

“Leave,” I ordered flatly. She obeyed without hesitation, retreating like a scolded servant, the door shutting softly behind her. The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same as before. For some reason, the air felt heavier, like her presence had left a trace I couldn’t shake off. I ground my teeth, forcing my attention back to the files on my desk. I had bigger wars to fight than a timid girl with wide eyes and poor timing.

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Isabella's POV

I stood outside his study door, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and humiliation. My chest burned. I couldn’t believe it. He dismissed me… like I was some dog.

“Who does he even think he is?” I hissed under my breath, pacing a little. The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

“Just because he has money and a handsome face, he thinks he can treat people like trash? Arrogant, heartless bastard.” I clenched my fists, heat rising in my cheeks.

“You’re nothing but a fucking cu…”

The door flung open. I froze. My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened as Julian stood right there, tall, intimidating, his expression unreadable as if he had already heard every single word I had dared to mutter.

My voice died instantly, and all the blood drained from my face. I hadn’t even realized he might have heard me. He didn’t say a thing. Not one word. He just held my gaze for a moment, long enough for me to feel small, and utterly foolish. Then he slipped his hands into his pockets and walked past me without a glance back.

The silence was worse than any insult. I stood frozen in the hallway, my face burning. My knees felt weak, my chest heavy with shame and anger. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, cry, or disappear into the floor.

I rolled my eyes as I walked away, still burning with humiliation. Who does he think he is? Acting like I was some stray mutt scratching at his door. By the time I reached the kitchen, I threw myself into scrubbing the dishes, letting the hot water and soap swallow my frustration. The clinking of plates against the sink drowned out my muttered complaints.

“Finding everything good so far?” I startled, glancing up to see Niles standing in the doorway, his usual calm smile softening his features.

“Yes, sir,” I answered quickly, wiping my wet hands on the apron.

“Please,” he said gently, stepping further in, “call me Niles.”

The corners of my lips lifted despite myself. “Alright, Niles.”

He nodded in approval, then leaned casually against the counter, watching me work. For a moment, the silence stretched until I finally asked,

“Does Mr. Julian… live here all by himself? In this huge house?”

Niles’s expression shifted, something like sadness flickering in his eyes before he smoothed it away. “Yes. His parents passed away years ago. So… it’s just him now.”

The dish slipped slightly in my hand, and I steadied it quickly. Suddenly, the image of him sitting alone in that cold study made my chest tighten. Niles’s words lingered in the air, and I found myself staring down at the soap bubbles clinging to my hands. So he was all alone. No parents. No family. That explained a lot, didn’t it? Maybe loneliness had sharpened his edges into blades.

As if sensing my thoughts, Niles cleared his throat gently. “The young master… he’s not an unkind man, Isabella. Don’t mind his rough behaviors toward you. He’s been through more than most could bear.”

I looked up, surprised by the softness in his tone. For a second, he sounded almost protective of him. Before I could respond, he reached into his pocket and set something sleek and black on the counter beside the sink. I blinked at it, water dripping from my hands.

A card. A credit card. But not just any card, it was heavy looking, a matte black rectangle that seemed to carry weight beyond its size.

“What’s this?” I asked, frowning slightly.

“You’ll be needing groceries for tomorrow. Take this and buy everything you need,” Niles said, his voice steady.

I wiped my hands quickly and picked it up, staring at it as if it might burn me. My eyes widened.

“Wait… is this… one of those… unlimited cards?”

Niles gave the faintest smile, bowing his head slightly. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I repeated, my voice nearly breaking in disbelief.

“Yes.” His answer was short, certain, final. And with that, he excused himself with a polite nod and left me standing there clutching the sleek black card like it was a key to another world. I had never in my life held something that powerful. Something that could buy… well, probably anything. And it didn’t even belong to me.

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Julian's POV

I descended the staircase, steps echoing in the silence of the mansion. Something was… off. Too quiet. Normally, Niles would already be stationed by the entrance, and the girl Isabella was supposed to be hovering around the kitchen. But now? Nothing.

My jaw tightened. “Niles.” No answer. I frowned deeper, irritation prickling my skin. “Isabella.” Still nothing. I strode to the dining hall, already annoyed at the absence of order in my own house.

But the moment I stepped inside, I stopped dead in my tracks. The table was full. No, overflowing. A full course meal stretched across the polished surface. Golden, buttery croissants still warm from the oven. Pancakes stacked high, dripping with maple syrup. Perfectly crisped bacon. Fresh fruit salad glittering with dew mango, strawberries, blueberries all cut neatly. There was smoked salmon, scrambled eggs fluffed like clouds, even roasted chicken spiced just right. Beside it all, a small glass dish of yogurt, thick and creamy, with nuts and honey on top.

I blinked. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a table like this, much less for breakfast. My eyes fell on a folded slip of paper by the centerpiece. I picked it up, recognizing Niles’s neat, measured handwriting.

> Young Master,

I had to leave early for the office. Isabella went to get groceries. We didn’t want to disturb your rest.

Niles.

I exhaled, a long, silent sigh, before dropping into the chair at the head of the table. My gaze swept over the feast once more. Where the hell was I supposed to start? For a moment, I simply sat there, staring, the smell of roasted chicken and fresh bread filling my lungs. Against my will, my stomach clenched with hunger.

I picked up my fork, cut into the eggs, and took a bite. Warm. Soft. Savory. Rich with butter. The flavor melted across my tongue, and for a second just a fleeting second I forgot to scowl. I tried the salmon next, then a piece of fruit, then the chicken. Each bite seemed to unravel something tightly wound in me, loosening the iron chains I had long since accepted as part of myself. Damn it. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or grateful. All I knew was that I couldn’t stop eating.

I had just taken another bite of the roasted chicken when a slow clap echoed from the doorway.

“Well, well, well… look who’s actually enjoying himself.”

My fork stilled midair. My head snapped toward the voice, and my eyes narrowed instantly. There he was, leaning casually against the frame of the door, lips curved in a mocking smirk. Caleb, my stepbrother.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled, pushing back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the marble floor. “And how did you even get in?”

He raised his hands as if to say calm down, his grin widening. “Relax, brother. No need to look like you’ve swallowed a lemon. I just dropped by to get some wine. Yours has always been the best.”

I clenched my jaw, watching him stroll into the room like he owned the place. He went straight to the cabinet where the vintages were stored, as if it was his second home.

“Help yourself, why don’t you,” I muttered, irritation sharpening my tone.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said lightly, plucking out a bottle with practiced ease. His gaze flicked to the table, to the ridiculous spread of food, then back at me with a smirk that made my blood boil.

“Interesting. Never thought I’d see the day Julian Rothwell actually sat down to a family-style breakfast. Did Niles suddenly turn chef? Or…” His smirk widened. My hand tightened on my fork.

I didn’t bother answering him. Instead, I set my fork back to my plate, slicing into the steak and bringing it to my mouth with deliberate calm.

His chuckle rang through the dining room. “Ah, I see. Too busy stuffing your face to care, huh?” I chewed slowly, my gaze fixed on the food in front of me. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing my irritation.

“Suit yourself,” he said at last, twisting the cork from the wine bottle and pouring himself a glass as though he lived here. He swirled it lazily, sniffed, then sipped. “Still the finest taste in town. Some things never change.”

I continued eating, ignoring him completely, though my jaw ached from the restraint. Caleb leaned back in the chair opposite me, sipping his stolen wine like he owned the place. His lips twisted into that smug smile I had always hated.

“So,” he drawled, eyes flicking over the dishes spread across the table. “Where’s your boyfriend? Don’t tell me he’s the one who cooked all this.”

He grinned wider. “Ah, silence. That means yes. The board will love this. Their precious golden boy caught pounding a chef on his bed. Or is it the other way around?”

I set my fork down deliberately, refusing to rise to his bait.

“Both you and the board have nothing to do with my sexuality. Nothing.”

Caleb barked a laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, Julian, you still don’t get it, do you? I don’t give a bloody damn if you’re interested in men… or animals. That’s your business. What I care about is my inheritance. The one you stole when you charmed your way into Grandfather's will.”

My chest tightened, but I stayed silent, watching him.

“And the best part?” He leaned forward now, his eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. “The board already had a little meeting. They’ve decided. If you don’t get married to a woman…” He smirked on that word, savoring it. “…within one month, they’ll vote you out of the seat. You know how those old men are. They don’t support gay shit. Can’t risk their shares in the hands of an ass fucker.”

My chair screeched as I pushed it back sharply. The rage boiled up so fast I almost couldn’t control it.

“Get. Out.”

Caleb blinked, but before he could smirk again, I slammed my hand against the table, making the glasses rattle.

“I said get the hell out of my house before I forget you’re my brother and drag you out myself.”

For a second, his smirk faltered. I stood, straightening my back, eyes burning into his.

“And hear me clearly, Caleb… threaten me again, and I’ll drag every dirty little secret of yours into the daylight. Let’s see how the board feels about that.”

He swallowed, masking it with a scoff, and rose with his glass of wine.

“We’ll see, brother. Tick tock. One month.”

Then he sauntered toward the door, leaving the stench of his arrogance behind.