Chapter 177

Claire suddenly realized why men couldn’t resist women’s tears.

It wasn’t about gender at all!

She had zero resistance to Julian’s tears either!

The real issue was his face!

"Hey, don’t cry. If you need money, I’ll give it to you. I can’t handle seeing gorgeous guys upset," Claire said, her voice softening.

She quickly grabbed a tissue from her purse and offered it to Julian.

Julian tilted his head slightly, his jaw tightening as he fought back tears. "Thanks, but I’m a man. I don’t need tissues," he muttered stubbornly.

Why did that make him even more endearing?

Evelyn leaned in, her voice gentle. "Julian, do you have younger siblings?"

Julian blinked in surprise, his gaze flickering to her. "How did you guess?"

"You were so patient feeding Claire earlier. It felt like you’ve done that before," Evelyn observed.

Julian exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yeah. I’m the oldest. Two little sisters and a brother."

His voice carried the weight of responsibility, and Claire’s heart squeezed.

She hadn’t expected this side of him—vulnerable yet proud.

Evelyn exchanged a knowing glance with Claire before speaking again. "That explains a lot."

Julian wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, refusing the tissue again. "I don’t usually ask for help," he admitted quietly.

Claire reached out, hesitating before resting a hand on his arm. "Sometimes, you have to."

Julian’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though his eyes still shimmered. "Guess so."

The air between them shifted, something unspoken passing between them.

Claire made a decision.

"Tell me how much you need," she said firmly.

Julian hesitated, then sighed. "It’s not just about the money. It’s… complicated."

Evelyn tilted her head. "Try us."

Julian looked between them, conflict flashing in his gaze.

Then, finally, he spoke.

The car's air conditioning hummed softly as Evelyn studied Julian's tense profile. "Why do you need so much money?" she pressed.

His fingers tightened around his knees. "My father... He's deep in gambling debts." A bitter laugh escaped him. "If we don't pay, he's going to sell my sisters."

Claire stiffened beside Evelyn. "Sell them?"

Julian's throat worked as he nodded. "They're fourteen and fifteen. He's arranged marriages for them—some middle-aged farmers in the countryside who'll treat them like breeding stock." His voice cracked. "They haven't even finished school."

Evelyn's stomach turned. This wasn't just tragic—it was archaic.

"You expect us to believe that?" Claire's skepticism sliced through the silence.

Evelyn understood the doubt. In their world, sob stories were currency. But the raw shame flashing across Julian's face felt too visceral to fake.

His head snapped up, eyes blazing. "You think I'd invent something like this?" He wrenched at his seatbelt, hands shaking. "Forget it. I'll find another way."

The click of the buckle releasing punctuated his words. His pride was a living thing, coiled tight in the set of his jaw, the way his teeth sank into his bottom lip.

Evelyn caught his wrist. "Wait."

Julian froze. Up close, she could see the faint scar above his eyebrow, the way his pulse jumped under her fingers. Not a seasoned manipulator—just a desperate kid out of options.

Claire exhaled sharply. "Even if it's true, how much are we talking?"

Julian swallowed. "Enough to buy their freedom." His whisper was barely audible. "And mine."

The unspoken truth hung between them: once his father got his hands on that money, Julian would be next on the auction block.

The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "Why are you making such a big deal? How much do you actually need?"

Julian's voice was barely above a whisper. "Th-thirty thousand dollars..."

Claire's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You're selling yourself for that?"

In their elite world, thirty grand was pocket change—a single designer handbag, a night out at Eclipse Lounge, the monthly maintenance fee for Willowbrook Apartments.

Yet here it was, the sum that could save two innocent girls and break Julian.

For the first time, Claire understood money's true weight—not as a status symbol, but as a lifeline.

Julian flinched. When Claire called it "that amount," his shoulders hunched further. Was thirty thousand really insignificant?

His fingers twisted the cheap fabric of his shirt. Ragged nails left crescent marks in the material. Shame burned through him like acid.

Evelyn stepped closer. "Claire can cover it. She'll settle your debt later..."

She recognized that hollow look in Julian's eyes.

It reminded her of Richard Hayes' adopted son—the one who'd gamble away his paycheck then come screaming for more. When her adoptive mother Cassandra couldn't pay, he'd left bruises shaped like poker chips on her wrists.

The car hummed softly as the city lights blurred past the windows. Shadows danced across Julian's face, his expression unreadable.

Claire kept her eyes on the road, but she could feel the weight of his silence.

Julian had grown up in hell. His mother, unable to vent her rage on the man who abandoned her, had taken it all out on him instead.

Bruises had been his childhood companions. Broken skin, broken bones—until the Hayes family finally intervened.

Richard and Margaret Hayes weren’t exactly warm, but at least they didn’t leave him bleeding.

Claire smiled, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Yes, Julian. I'll keep you. You won’t have to worry about money anymore."

Julian exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee.

The neon glow of passing signs flickered over his sharp features. He studied Claire’s profile, hesitation warring with something darker in his gaze.

Then, voice low, he asked the question burning between them.

"Claire… if you keep me, does that mean you’re going to sleep with me?"