THE PRICE OF SILENCE PA.2

The air inside the glass-and-steel showroom was thick with the scent of polished leather and high-society arrogance. Julian stood quietly by the black hypercar, his fingers barely grazing the cool, mirror-like finish of the fender. His plain grey t-shirt and faded denim looked conspicuously out of place beneath the crystal chandeliers.

Elena stepped up beside him, her heels clicking sharply against the Italian marble. Her silver cocktail dress shimmered under the spotlights, but the expression on her face was pure frost.

"Don't touch what you can't afford, Julian," she whispered, her voice dripping with sharp amusement for the benefit of the watching crowd. "Even if your whole family worked three lifetimes, you couldn't pay for the polish on this fender."

A ripple of soft chuckles echoed from the socialites circling the display. Julian turned slightly, his hazel eyes calm, his pulse steady. He had known Elena back when they were both broke college students sharing cheap coffee and big dreams. But wealth had entered her life like a flood, washing away every trace of humility.

"I was only looking at the clear coat," Julian replied mildly, keeping his hands loosely in his pockets.

"You shouldn't even be looking," she sneered, raising her chin. "A man who rides the subway doesn't belong in a room built for kings."

Before Julian could answer, the glass doors of the executive suite swung open. Arthur Vance, the dealership’s senior director, marched through the crowd. His sharp suit and stern demeanor usually kept clients at a respectful distance, but right now, his eyes were locked on Julian.

Elena smiled triumphantly, expecting security to drag Julian out. Instead, Vance bowed slightly, extending a trembling hand.

"Mr. Sterling," Vance said, loud enough to hush the entire room. "This production floor is far beneath your standards. The private prototype you commissioned has just landed in the private hangar."