The apartment was a shrine to decay. Takeout boxes littered the floor, and the air was stale. Dr. Julian Sterling sat on the edge of his unmade bed, staring at a beaker of clear liquid on the nightstand.
Without Maya, the moral compass that had guided him away from his toxic family legacy was gone. He was just a disinherited billionaire with a brilliant mind and a gaping hole in his chest.
A knock at the door. Julian didn’t move. The door opened anyway. Jaxson Vane walked in, stepping over a pizza box with a look of distaste.
“You look like hell, Julian,” Jaxson said, checking his diamond watch. “The zoning permits for the cryo-lab came through. Good work.”
“Get out,” Julian rasped.
“Now, now. Is that any way to treat your patron?” Jaxson smirked, picking up the beaker. He sniffed it. “What’s this? One of your little experiments?”
“It’s a sedative,” Julian muttered. “A modification of the formula used in the trauma ward. It… it stops the thinking. It stops the feeling.”
“Numbing the pain of the breakup?” Jaxson laughed, setting the beaker down. “Careful, Doctor. You’re playing with chemistry. But I suppose that’s what makes you useful. You have no lines left to cross.”
Jaxson turned to leave. “I own you now, Julian. Don’t forget who pays the rent on this dump.”
When the door closed, Julian drank the liquid. The void in his chest didn’t fill, but for a blessed moment, it stopped screaming.