Julian Wonder Novels & Stories

Her attention was on me because she liked me. And not Orlando. -- “You’re gonna be where this weekend?” “The Lavender.” Julian grinned. “I love it there. Do you want to come?” “Afraid not. I have a date.” “With the mystery girl. How’s it going?” “Amazing. I told her how I felt and she felt the same way. We’re in a great place.” I smiled. “Look at you dude. Maybe I’ll find love someday.” “You’ll never stop being a player, Julian, you’re just like your father.”

I reached for the whiskey glass beside the laptop only to realize it was empty. “Bad habit.” I jumped so hard I nearly knocked the glass over. Julian stood in the doorway, he was barefoot and shirtless. His gray sweatpants hung low on his hips and his dark hair was messy from sleep. He looked half awake and entirely dangerous. My pulse slammed against my ribs. “How long have you been standing there?” “Long enough.” His voice was rough with sleep. His eyes moved slowly over the study. The open files. The glowing screens. Me.

"The board of directors is panicking. Silas Vane has gone underground, but he’s already leaked edited footage of the 'Ashford Anomaly' to the high-society circles. They’re calling you a monster, Julian." "Let them call me what they want," Julian said, his voice holding a new, resonant authority. "I’ve spent my life being a 'substitute' and a 'shame.' If being a 'monster' means I never have to wear a veil again, then I’ll embrace it."

a new voice rasped. Julian was leaning against the doorframe, his bandages slightly unraveled at the shoulder. He looked pale, but the "Monster" in his eyes had been replaced by a father’s cold, calculated fury. He walked toward the tablet, his gaze scanning the headlines with a detached, professional speed. "Josh had a fail-safe," Julian said, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper. "He knew that if I ever betrayed him, the 'Donor' files would be released. He wanted to ensure that if he died, he took my reputation—and my son—with him."

He was wearing the simple gardener's clothes from the Mars dome, a smudge of red dust still on his cheek. "It’s strange, isn't it?" Julian’s voice didn't come from your ears; it came from the resonance in your own chest. "To be the one who isn't being watched. To be the one who simply is." "Julian?" you whispered, your voice cracking in the quiet of the room. "I’m not here to start a new war, Reader," Julian said, his mercury eyes softening into a calm, steady blue. "I’m here to return the Initial Investment. You gave us your time when we were just ink and pixels. Now, I’m giving you mine."

He knew, with a certainty that chilled his blood, that the monster was still alive, and it would be waiting, deep beneath the floorboards, for the rest of time. But as the first light of dawn touched the palace spires, Julian noticed something on his own hand. A single, small, black scale, perfectly shaped, shimmering in the morning sun. He touched it, and a ripple of that same, terrible power surged through him. He stood up, looking toward the city gates. The people were waking. They were breathing. They were alive. "You did it," Julian whispered to the earth beneath his feet. But the earth didn't answer. It only hummed.

“Remember I no longer work at his office ,I resigned already.” “Well, let’s see what I can pull up about that crazy family,” Juliana replied. She walked to her room and when she came back, she had a laptop in her hand. Her hand gently placed it down on the table and she took her seat while I leaned closer to see what she was doing. Her hand ran fast on the buttons, clicking and pressing every button like a pro. I was left wondering how Juliana was so good at it because the last I remember she is a fashion designer, not a tech pro.

Finally, Eli whispered, “Then maybe it isn’t about them. Maybe it’s about what we accept. What we choose.” Julian turned, meeting Eli’s gaze. There was fear in his eyes, but also fire. “And if choosing you means losing everything else?” Eli reached for his hand. “Then maybe everything else wasn’t worth keeping.” --- That night, Julian dreamed of running. Not away, but toward—toward a life painted in bold colors instead of muted grays. A life where his laughter wasn’t measured, where his love wasn’t hidden. He woke with his heart racing and the taste of freedom still on his tongue.

No response. "JULIAN!"