"Julian, it's late… let's go," Ken said gently, standing near the hospital bed.
Julian sat beside his younger brother James, his eyes fixed on the pale, unconscious face in front of him. The steady beeping of the heart monitor echoed through the room like a countdown.
"If you stay here all night," Ken continued softly, "you won't be able to attend tomorrow's exam."
Julian blinked, his lashes wet. A tear slid down and fell onto the white sheets.
"The doctor said he's in critical condition… we need to do the surgery soon," Julian whispered, voice trembling.
Ken placed a comforting hand on his back. "Don't worry. I'm with you. We'll find a way to get the money—together."
Julian didn't respond. His gaze stayed locked on James' sleeping face.
"It's too much," he murmured. "I've tried everything, Ken. But I… I can't come up with that kind of amount."
Ken gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll talk to my parents. Maybe they can lend us something. They'll help us if they can."
"I'm sorry," Julian said, barely audible. "I didn't mean to drag you into this. I never wanted to be a burden."
Ken leaned closer, looking him in the eyes. "Julian… you're not a burden. We're friends. That means something. Now come on—you haven't eaten all day."
He reached out and gently grabbed Julian's hand, pulling him up from the chair.
"Let's get you something to eat," he said softly. "James needs you strong. Not starved."
Julian and Ken sat quietly in the corner of the hospital café. The room smelled faintly of burnt coffee and sterile air, but neither of them noticed.
Ken reached over and gently wiped the tears from Julian's cheeks.
"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I told you—we'll get the money on time."
Julian slowly lifted his head, his glassy eyes meeting Ken's. His skin was pale, his cheeks and nose tinged red from crying. The shimmer of tears still clinging to his lashes made him look heartbreakingly fragile.
Julian didn't need designer clothes or luxury to be beautiful. He simply was. The kind of natural beauty that drew people in without trying. And sitting here now, vulnerable and quiet, that beauty only glowed stronger.
Ken felt his chest tighten.
He had been secretly in love with Julian for years. Four years of friendship, laughter, long talks, and late-night walks. And through it all, his feelings only grew stronger.
He had tried to find the right moment to confess, to finally say the words that burned in his throat. But every time he built up the courage, something happened. And lately, it was always James.
Julian's little brother—sick since childhood with a weak heart—was now lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. The doctors had confirmed it. James needed surgery. Soon.
Ken looked at Julian again, who hadn't spoken a word since entering the café. The weight of it all was written across his face.
And once again, Ken swallowed his feelings, pushing them back into the dark. Because right now, Julian didn't need love.
He needed a miracle.
Ken's phone buzzed on the table, the sudden sound making Julian flinch slightly. Ken glanced at the screen.
"Mom," he muttered under his breath.
He answered the call.
Ken (softly): "Yes, Mom?"
His mother's sharp voice came through loud and clear, even from across the table.
Ken's Mom (angrily): "Ken, where are you? Don't tell me you're with that boy again."
Ken sighed. His jaw tightened.
Ken: "I can't come. Bye."
Without waiting for another word, he ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket.
Julian looked at him, voice quiet.
"Ken… Aunty must be worried about you. You should go. I'm fine."
"You're not," Ken said firmly. "So let me stay with you."
Julian didn't argue. He simply nodded, his fingers curling around the edge of his paper cup.
But only a few minutes passed before the atmosphere shifted again.
Heavy footsteps approached, fast and furious. Ken turned just in time to see his mother storming into the café, her expression thunderous.
"Mom?" he said, standing up quickly. "Why are you here?"
"Let's go," she snapped. "Right now. You're coming with me."
Julian instinctively stood, trying to be polite.
"Aunty…" he began, but Ken stepped in between them.
Ken: "I'm not leaving. Please don't make a scene. This is a hospital—"
"A scene?!" she shouted, eyes blazing. "You think I care?! You're insulting your own mother over this boy?"
Her voice echoed through the hallway, turning heads.
"He's using you, Ken! Just look at him—crying, acting pitiful, hoping you'll throw your money at him! He's using his face to trap you!"
Julian's eyes widened, stunned by her words. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Ken: "Mom, stop! What are you saying—"
Ken's Mom: "Shut up! You're coming with me. Now!"
She grabbed his arm and then turned to Julian, her eyes full of disgust.
"Don't come near my son again. I've seen boys like you. Beautiful, desperate, greedy—you'd do anything for money."
With that, she dragged Ken out of the café.
Julian stood frozen, the stares of nurses, patients, and visitors pressing in from all sides. His vision blurred.
A tear slipped down his cheek and hit the floor.
He didn't wait.
Snatching his jacket, he ran out of the hospital.
The cold outside hit him like a slap, but it still wasn't as cold as the ache spreading inside his chest. The pain, the humiliation, the helplessness—it all wrapped around him like ice.
He kept walking, aimlessly, his breath fogging in the winter air.
Alone.
Hopeless.
Utterly, completely lost.
In the dimly lit VIP room of an exclusive underground club, silence reigned like law. The air was thick with expensive cologne and power.
Cassian Blackwood sat on the leather sofa, legs crossed, one hand lazily swirling the wine in his crystal glass. Everything about him—his sharp jawline, tailored black suit, and the Rolex glinting on his wrist—radiated cold, untouchable luxury.
He didn't need to say a word. His presence alone demanded obedience.
Standing beside him, his secretary Mike shifted nervously.
"Sir," Mike said cautiously, "these are the newest boys. Fresh faces. The best the club has to offer tonight."
Cassian's icy gaze swept over the line of young men standing before him.
His eyes narrowed.
"Mike," he said coldly, "have you forgotten my taste?"
Mike's posture stiffened. "I'm sorry, sir. They're the most beautiful in the club tonight. That's what the manager said."
Cassian gave a slow, unimpressed exhale. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
"Get them out."
The tension in the room snapped like a wire. One by one, the boys exited quickly, their eyes lowered, avoiding Cassian's gaze.
Once the door clicked shut, Cassian took a slow sip of his wine.
"You have one hour," he said flatly.
Mike gave a deep nod and immediately left the room, hurrying to fix the mistake.
Cassian leaned back, staring at the crimson liquid in his glass. His expression remained unreadable. Ruthless.
He wasn't just rich—he was power. The Blackwood name ruled the country's highest business circles, with old money, old blood, and a reputation built like a fortress.
People called their family life heaven.
Cassian knew better.
He didn't believe in heaven. Only control.
Julian sat alone on the park bench, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. After a moment of hesitation, he finally gathered the courage to dial a number. The call rang a few times before someone picked up on the other end—his father in Turkey.
"Hello, Dad," Julian said softly.
Jason Hart's voice came through cold and distant. "What? Why are you calling me?"
Julian's voice trembled. "Dad… James is in the hospital. He needs heart surgery."
Jason scoffed. "So what? Ah, I see—you need money again."
"I promise I'll pay you back… as soon as I can," Julian pleaded.
"Look, Julian," Jason snapped, "I already told you. I have no relationship with either of you. So don't bother me again."
"Dad—" Julian began, but the call had already ended.
Julian stared blankly at his phone, then slowly placed it on the bench beside him. His hands dropped to his lap as he sat in silence, his chest heavy with helplessness. Just then, his phone rang again. He picked it up quickly.
"Hey Juli!" came his friend's voice. "The club I work at needs an extra waiter tonight. If you're free, come by. They're paying really well."
Julian wiped his face and sat up straighter. "Okay. I'll come. Send me the address."
As soon as the call ended, he stood and took a deep breath, brushing away the last of his tears. He no longer believed in miracles. People weren't good. No one was coming to help. If he had to survive, he had to fight for it himself.
He walked to the nearest bus station. After a while, he arrived at the club. His friend spotted him immediately.
"Oh, Julian! Thank God you came on time," he said, relieved.
The manager looked Julian over with interest. "Dane, you didn't tell me your friend was this charming."
Julian walked over to them quietly.
"This is Julian, my friend," Dane introduced. "Julian, this is the manager."
Julian nodded politely.
"Hmm. Go get changed," Dane said.
Julian hurried to change into the uniform. The manager handed him a wine tray and spoke with urgency.
"I know the perfect room for you. Go serve in VIP Room 349. But listen—don't go inside without knocking. And be polite. Extra polite."
Julian nodded. "Understood."
He took the tray and headed toward the VIP section. When he arrived at Room 349, he knocked on the door.
A sharp voice responded, "Come in."
Julian opened the door, and his eyes met the man inside—Cassian Blackwood, the richest and most powerful businessman in the country.