CLARA
I spent the ride back to my apartment with my jaw tight and my phone feeling heavy inside my purse.
Beside me in the soft leather backseat of the town car, Julian looked relaxed, his long legs stretched out, one hand resting over mine. His thumb moved slowly over my knuckles, trying to calm me down. An hour ago, it would have sent a thrill through me.
Now, it felt like a snake slowly tightening around my wrist.
He isn't rich. He's a parasite. And you're his next meal
The words from the unknown text kept running through my mind every time I blinked.
"You've gone quiet, Clara," Julian said softly, his voice cutting through the sound of the engine. He leaned closer, his eyes fixed on my face. "Are you alright?"
I forced my face into a calm smile, a mask I had perfected over years of sitting across from company bosses who were trying to hide bad debts in their financial records.
"I'm fine," I said, keeping my voice light. "Just tired. Work has been crazy lately. Lots of financial checks."
"Ah, the financial world," Julian said with a smooth laugh, shaking his head. "Never sleeps, does it? That's why I prefer fast growing venture capital. Less paperwork, more freedom. In fact, my firm is looking into a major tech company deal next week. Big money coming in."
"Really?" I turned to look at him, my sharp calculating mind kicking in. "What's the name of your capital firm again, Julian? I realize I never actually caught the full company name."
There was a tiny pause.
Just one breath, but I noticed it.
His thumb stopped moving over my hand. His jaw tightened slightly before his easy smile returned.
"Vance Global Assets," he said casually, pulling his hand away to smooth his jacket. "Private equity, mostly offshore clients. We keep a low profile to avoid market attention."
Offshore.
The business word for don't look too closely or you might find something.
"Fascinating," I murmured. "I’ll have to look it up sometime."
When the car finally stopped outside my apartment, Julian leaned across to kiss me goodnight. I let him press his lips against mine, forcing myself not to pull away, but my heart wasn't beating with romantic excitement anymore.
It was pounding with pure fear.
The moment my apartment door locked behind me, I kicked off my heels, dropped my purse on the counter, and opened my laptop.
I didn't turn on the lights. The cold blue light from the screen filled my dark living room as my fingers flew across the keyboard.
I logged into my firm's paid financial database—a powerful system that tracked company records, SEC filings, and credit lines.
"Vance Global Assets," I whispered, typing it into the search bar.
No results found.
I changed the search settings. I searched Delaware company records. I searched Cayman Islands shell companies. I searched Julian Vance's name for any active director positions.
A single result appeared: a company registered three years ago.
But its status was marked in bright red:
DISSOLVED / DEFAULTED ON CORPORATE TAXES.
Under the debts section was a list of unpaid loans from private lenders, totaling nearly four million dollars.
My breath caught.
My blood turned cold.
Julian wasn't a successful venture capitalist. His company was nothing but unpaid debts and warnings. The expensive suit, the two hundred roses, the five hundred dollar wine, the black platinum card it was all a carefully planned show.
Ping.
My phone buzzed on the desk. I jumped and pulled away from the screen.
It was Nora.
Nora: Girl! Tell me EVERYTHING! How was dinner with Mr. Billionaire? Did he kiss you?
My hands were shaking as I picked up the phone and called her. She answered on the second ring.
"Clara! I've been staring at my phone for an hour!" Nora said excitedly. "Did he take you to that fancy restaurant, what is the name again oh L'Ermitage? Is he as amazing as he looks?"
"Nora," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I leaned against the edge of my desk. "I got an anonymous text during dinner."
There was silence for a second.
"What? What kind of text?"
"Someone texted me from an unknown number," I said, walking around my dark living room. "They said Julian isn't rich. They called him a parasite. And Nora, I just ran his name through my firm's database. His venture capital company dissolved two years ago. He has millions in debt filed against him!"
I expected Nora to gasp. I expected her to tell me to lock my doors and call the police.
Instead, Nora let out a long, tired sigh.
"Clara... oh my god, please tell me you aren't doing this," Nora said, sounding disappointed.
I stopped walking.
"Doing what?"
"Self-sabotaging!" Nora almost groaned.
"Clara, you do this every single time a great guy enters your life. You run background checks? Are you serious? You're treating your love life like a company audit!"
"Nora, he defaulted on millions of dollars!"
"Do you know how companies work?!" Nora snapped. "Julian is a top businessman! Rich guys shut down companies and open new ones under parent companies all the time to hide money from tax agencies or angry business partners. And that text? Come on, Clara, use your head! It’s obviously a jealous ex girlfriend or a rival trying to turn you against him so they can have him!"
"I..I don't know..." I stammered, feeling confused. Nora sounded so sure, so calm about everything.
"Listen to me," Nora said, her voice becoming softer and more caring. "Julian is completely in love with you. He’s giving you gifts, taking you out, making up for lost time. Don't let some crazy ex or a stupid tax record ruin the best thing that’s happened to you in years. Promise me you won't think too much about this. Just go out with him tomorrow like you planned."
I swallowed hard, looking at the dark screen of my laptop.
"Okay," I whispered reluctantly. "Okay."
"Good girl," Nora said softly. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Tell me everything."
She hung up.
I stood in the dark, feeling sick to my stomach, completely unaware that on the other side of town, Nora was opening a new private messaging app on her phone.
She typed a message to a saved contact named J:
Nora: She's asking questions about your firm's finances. She ran a check tonight. Keep her distracted tomorrow.
The next day...
The next evening, Julian picked me up for a private dinner at an expensive wine lounge in the quiet financial district.
He was as smooth as ever, wearing a dark sweater and tailored trousers, pouring me glass after glass of sweet red wine. He was sweet, attentive, and laughed at all my jokes, pulling my chair out and kissing my cheek whenever he got the chance.
"Excuse me for just a moment, darling," Julian said softly around 9:00 PM, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. "My operations team in London is blowing up my phone. I need to step out into the hallway for two minutes to clear an international transfer."
"Of course," I smiled sweetly. "Take your time."
Julian stood up, patting his leather messenger bag resting on the empty chair beside him. In his hurry to grab his phone, he unzipped the main compartment, took out his phone, and stepped into the quiet hallway.
He left the leather bag sitting on the chair.
The zipper was wide open.
My heart began to race. My eyes moved toward the hallway where Julian stood with his back to me, his phone pressed to his ear.
I reached across the small table, my fingers brushing against the cold leather of his bag.
Don't do it, Clara, my sensible brain warned.
Look, my instincts screamed.
I pulled a thick paper folder from the open compartment and opened it on my lap under the table.
Inside weren't company reports or tech investment plans.
They were private bank loan papers from a private lender.
My eyes moved across the printed words quickly, my work experience helping me understand the small details in seconds.
LOAN APPLICANT: JULIAN VANCE
REQUESTED AMOUNT: $2,500,000
PRIMARY COLLATERAL / GUARANTOR: CLARA MORGAN
Under the guarantor section, my home address, my work information, my social security number, and an estimate of my savings were all neatly typed out.
My breath caught in my throat.
He was applying for a high interest private loan and preparing to use me as the person responsible for paying it back if he couldn't.
Suddenly, a dark shadow fell across the white tablecloth.
The air in the quiet wine lounge went completely cold.
I slowly looked up.
Julian was standing right beside the table.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
His dark eyes were cold and still, fixed directly on the folder in my hands.
"Find anything interesting, Clara?" he asked, his voice smooth but filled with something dark and dangerous.
