"Aunt Eleanor, this is Julian Hale," Oliver said, making the introduction with a flick of his hand. "He's the one I mistook for Sonny the other day."

Eleanor Frost turned her gaze toward him. She wasn't the stereotypical "iron lady" Julian had imagined.

She wore her hair in soft curls and spoke with a quiet, melodic cadence, but beneath the warmth, Julian felt a familiar subterranean pressure—the same gravity that defined Samuel.

"So, you're the famous Julian," she murmured, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Julian gave a cautious, professional nod. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

The conversation shifted away from him as quickly as it had started. The two Frosts began to discuss Sonny.

They spoke of him with a mix of pity and frustration—how difficult his temperament had become, how it was no wonder the Old Boss refused to let him return to NYC.

"It's not a permanent exile, though," Oliver noted, his voice dropping an octave. "Grandfather gave Samuel an ultimatum. If Samuel gets married, he'll agree to bring Sonny home."

"Which makes it even more unlikely," Eleanor replied with a sharp, dry laugh. "Samuel has been systematically dismantling every blind date my father sets up. The Old Boss is beyond livid."

Julian reached for his noise-canceling headphones, sliding them on to drown out the rest. He didn't want to hear any more about Samuel's marriage prospects or the Frost family's internal chess games.

Once clear of the building, Julian found Orca's car waiting at the mall entrance. The initial awkwardness of their first meeting had long since evaporated; Julian climbed into the back seat and tossed his bag aside with practiced ease.

Orca gripped the steering wheel, his face hidden as always. "Dinner first?"

"Sure," Julian agreed.

They headed to a nearby restaurant. Despite the Valentine's Day rush, Orca had clearly pulled strings; they were escorted past the line and seated immediately at a secluded table.

Julian didn't bother with a mask anymore when it was just the two of them. He picked up his cutlery, but before taking a bite, he glanced at the man across from him.

"Sorry," Orca said, his voice muffled. "I can't join you."

"It's fine," Julian said, reaching for a side dish. "You don't have to watch me eat. If you're hungry, find a corner where I can't see you."

"I'm alright," Orca replied.

Julian gave up and focused on his meal. Being watched while eating was unsettling, and despite his hunger, he found himself setting his chopsticks down sooner than expected.

"You barely ate," Orca noted.

"You didn't eat a single bite," Julian countered.

The man went silent.

A few minutes later, they were back in the car. Julian watched the neon lights of the city blur past the window. "Where to next?"

"We're going to buy you a dress."

Julian's brow furrowed. "That's not necessary."

"Please," Orca said. The tone was gentle, but the resolve was absolute—as if he were desperate to prove a point Julian didn't yet understand.

Julian had noticed it the moment they met today; Orca was... off.

"You don't have to do this for me," Julian said softly. "If you really want to spoil someone, you should save it for the person you actually care about."

The atmosphere in the car bottomed out. The silence turned heavy and cold.

Julian realized he'd overstepped. "Sorry. I'm talking too much."

"It's fine," Orca said, though he didn't sound like it. "The dresses. Shall we?"

Julian sighed. "...Fine. Let's look."

Orca didn't take him to a department store. He led him into a private designer boutique—a sprawling, two-story sanctuary with a spiral staircase and racks of archive-quality silk. The staff had been briefed; they closed the shop to other customers, focusing entirely on Julian. They spoke of the history of each garment, the "design philosophy" behind every stitch.

Julian took one look at the price tags and felt his pulse spike. Even the "affordable" pieces cost more than his monthly salary at Apex Capital.

He had no intention of accepting a gift like this. He humored the man by picking out one relatively modest piece, then insisted they move on to a fast-fashion flagship nearby.

As they walked out, Orca looked down at him. "You didn't like them?"

"I did," Julian said.

"Then why did you refuse?"

"They're too expensive."

"You aren't the one paying."

"Exactly," Julian said firmly. "Which is why I don't want them."

Orca fell silent again.

Julian pulled on his mask and entered the fast-fashion store. After seeing the exquisite craftsmanship of the boutique, the polyester blends and loose threads here felt like a letdown. He picked out a few basic items, skipped the fitting room, and headed for the self-checkout.

"Let's go," Julian said, stepping back toward Orca.

Orca took the light plastic bags from him, looking almost physically pained by Julian's frugality. They stepped onto the upward-bound escalator, Orca's eyes scanning the storefronts, still looking for something to buy him.

Julian was a step ahead when he suddenly spun around, his face pale. Before @Orca could react, Julian dove forward, burying his face in the man's chest.

Julian's heat and the scent of his hair hit Orca instantly. The man's entire frame went rigid.

"Shh! Don't move—" Julian whispered, his hands clutching Orca's coat. "Hide me. I see a coworker."

On the descending escalator, less than three feet away, stood Asher and a woman. Asher was looking directly toward them.

Orca's hand came up, shielding the back of Julian's head and forcing the boy deeper into the crook of his shoulder. He tilted his own head down, effectively masking both of them.

To any passerby, they looked like a couple lost in an intimate kiss on the escalator.

Julian didn't dare breathe. He stayed pinned against Orca's chest, terrified that a single glance from Asher would dismantle his entire double life.

But beneath the panic, he felt something else. He could feel Orca's heart hammering against his ribs—a frantic, uneven rhythm that suggested the man was just as rattled as he was.