A void opened in Julian's mind as he stared at the mirror.

He'd been drunk. He had forced Samuel's hand. He had… finished. Right there.

Despair should have crushed him, but a strange, icy clarity took over instead. Julian detached himself from Samuel's arms, his voice steady. "Sorry. I was drunk. Let's pretend this never happened. Please leave."

Samuel's lips parted. "I—"

"Don't apologize!" Julian snapped. He was already drowning in enough shame. He didn't need Samuel's pity to make the self-loathing worse.

Samuel went silent. He watched Julian with those dark, bottomless eyes, full of a complexity Julian refused to decipher.

Julian didn't want to know. He didn't want to understand. He walked to the front door and pulled it open, keeping his gaze fixed on the hallway. "Leave. Now."

Samuel waited a beat, then walked out without another word.

Julian retreated to the bathroom. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw, commanding his brain to stay empty. He moved like a machine—wash, dry, dress, bed. But the moment his head hit the pillow, the numbness shattered. He curled into a ball, shaking with a sudden, violent self-disgust.

He knew why he was so dependent on Samuel.

The man had appeared at Julian's lowest point—just as the last pillars of parental love had crumbled. Samuel had stepped into the void as a mentor, a guide, a protector. He had offered an infinite, steady tolerance. Julian had admired him, imitated him, and secretly craved to be like him.

And now, a single night of gin and desperation had burned it all to the ground.

He couldn't pretend to be the innocent student anymore. He couldn't hide behind a mask of professional curiosity while enjoying Samuel's favoritism.

The resentment started to simmer. Julian was the one who pulled the trigger, yes, but it took two to tango. Why hadn't Samuel stopped him? Why had he indulged Julian's "bad behavior" instead of pushing him away?

He pictured Samuel's face in that moment—the absolute, terrifying composure. While Julian had been a mess of heat and nerves, Samuel had been a precision instrument. Julian hated it. He hated that he was the only one affected. He wanted Samuel to break. He wanted to see a crack in that iron self-control.

But Samuel was Samuel. He was a machine that never malfunctioned.

Julian decided then. He was done with Samuel Frost.

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The next morning, Julian arrived at Apex Capital with a splitting headache and a defensive perimeter. He spent the morning ducking into hallways to avoid a confrontation, only to discover that Samuel had already left for an overseas business trip.

A tactical retreat. Even Samuel was avoiding the fallout.

It was for the best. Julian resolved to draw a hard line, but he'd underestimated the gravity of the man's influence. Even with Samuel gone, the office was a minefield. Seeing the closed door of the executive suite or hearing Samuel's name in the breakroom sent a jolt of anxiety through Julian's chest.

Fortunately, his rotation was almost up. According to the Management Training program, Julian was due to transfer to a different department. He'd loved working on the Synapse AI project, but now the prospect of physical distance felt like a lifeline. Away from Samuel, the dependency would eventually starve.

Three days before New Year's Eve, Samuel returned.

They ran into each other in the corridor. It was a clinical encounter—polite nods, professional greetings. No one looking at them would have guessed the stains on the foyer floor.

That afternoon, HR released the rotation list. Julian opened the file with a surge of anticipation. He scanned the names, looking for his new assignment.

His name wasn't moving.

Position: Assistant to the PM.

Julian stared at the screen. Was it a typo? He cornered the HR lead.

"The Synapse project is in a critical phase," the woman explained. "It's not feasible to move you right now."

Julian didn't buy it. He was a junior analyst, a foot soldier. His tasks could be handed off in an afternoon. Was Samuel retaliating? Was this a punishment for the night in the foyer?

No. Samuel wasn't petty.

Julian went to Asher. "Can I still transfer?"

"Sorry, kid. Not my call," Asher said, leaning back in his chair. "Samuel handles his own team. He fought to get you, and he's not letting you go that easily. You're exactly the kind of analyst he likes."

Julian's stomach turned. Samuel didn't want him gone? After everything?

He marched to Samuel's office, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm. He knocked, entered, and laid out his case before Samuel could even look up.

Samuel finally raised his gaze from a folder. "Why the sudden urge to leave?"

"The rules," Julian said, his voice tight. "I've hit the two-month mark."

"Finish the project first. Then we'll discuss a transfer."

"I don't accept that," Julian said. "Is this HR's decision? I'll go speak to them."

"It isn't," Samuel said. His voice was a low, cool vibration. "I told them to keep you here."

Julian froze. "Why?"

"I already told you," Samuel replied. "The project takes priority."

"I can hand over my notes! The other MTs are moving. Why am I different?"

"Because their work isn't as vital as yours," Samuel said. "Seeing a project through to the IPO is a massive boost to your resume. I'm thinking of your career."

"But I—"

"Julian." Samuel cut him off. His gaze was a wall of granite—the same cold, distant look from the day they first met. "I expect you to separate your personal feelings from your professional duties. You should understand what is truly important right now."

Julian's last spark of hope died.

The thought of months of proximity—of hearing Samuel's name, of tracking his blind dates, of feeling his eyes in every meeting—was a weight he couldn't carry.

Samuel was clever. He had broken Julian down and then demanded he remain calm. He had offered affection, then snatched it back, leaving Julian stranded.

He's just like my father, Julian thought.

No. That wasn't true.

Samuel had no obligation to be Julian's sanctuary. Julian had no right to blame him for being cold. Samuel had given him hints, set boundaries, and rejected him repeatedly. Julian was the one who had been greedy. He was the one who had kept reaching for the fire.

But Julian, you must have the courage to end a relationship.

Samuel's own words echoed in his head like a thunderclap.

Julian went still. If he had been brave enough to walk away from his parents, he could do this too.