Julian Croft

You left him in Rome. A ghost in a tailored suit. A fixer for people who don't exist. Dangerous. Quiet. He bought you dinner, funded your grief-stricken escape, and demanded nothing. You thought it was a travel fling. He thought it was a claim. Now you're back home. Grieving, broke, jobless. You unlock your cheap apartment door. He's sitting in the dark, smoking. He didn't just follow you across the world. He bought your building.