Chapter 45
Violet
The rental car pulled into my mother's driveway just as darkness settled over the neighborhood. The house looked warm and welcoming in the evening light, windows glowing golden, the porch light casting a soft halo over the pale yellow siding and slightly overgrown garden.
Julian cut the engine, and for a moment, we just sat there in silence, looking out the windshield.
“This is it,” I said quietly. “Home.”
It felt strange saying that word. I'd only been gone for a few months, but with everything that had happened—the Selection, the investigation, Cherry's arrest, falling for Julian—it felt like an entire lifetime had passed since I last walked through that front door.
Julian studied the house with the same intense focus he applied to everything. “It looks nice," he said. “Cozy.”
“You said the same thing about my dorm,” I said, lips curving in a teasing smile. “It’s rich-people-talk for ‘small’, right?”
“No. I just meant it actually looks like a home. Like a nice, warm place where people actually live.” There was something wistful in his tone. “Valcourt Manor has never felt like that. It’s more like a museum people happen to sleep in.”
I squeezed his hand. “Well, prepare yourself. My mom is going to smother you with warmth and probably feed you until you can't move,” I said. “And she talks a lot. She also goes off on tangents all the time, so you’ll end up discussing ten different things in the space of twenty minutes.”
“I'm looking forward to it.” He smiled, then glanced toward the house again. “Is she...?”
As if on cue, the front door burst open and my mother appeared on the porch. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she was wearing her favorite jeans and an oversized sweater.
“Violet!” she called out, hurrying down the porch steps. “Oh my god, you're here!”
I climbed out of the car and was immediately enveloped in her arms. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and home, and for a moment, I just let myself be held.
“I've missed you so much, honey,” she murmured into my hair.
“I missed you too, Mom.”
She pulled back to look at me, her hands framing my face.
Her eyes were already glistening with tears.
“Let me look at you. Are you okay? This news about Calista must’ve been...
” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I still can't believe it was one of her friends.
I just can't understand how someone could do something like that.”
“I know,” I said softly. “It's a lot to process.”
She inhaled deeply. “We'll talk about it inside. I made hot chocolate.” She finally seemed to notice Julian standing next to me, and her expression shifted to curiosity mixed with motherly assessment. “Where are my manners? You must be Julian.”
“Mrs. Calloway.” He extended his hand, his posture impeccable, his smile polite but genuine. “It's a pleasure to meet you. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Oh, none of that Mrs. Calloway nonsense. Call me Astrid.” She shook his hand, then surprised him by pulling him into a quick hug. “Any friend of Violet's is family here.”
I saw Julian stiffen slightly at the unexpected contact, then slowly relax.
“Come on, both of you. Inside. It's chilly out here,” Mom said, pulling back.
She ushered us toward the house, already talking a mile a minute.
“I made your favorite cookies, Violet. The caramel ones with the sea salt. And I figured you two probably ate on the plane, but I still made dinner just in case you didn’t.
I wasn't sure what you like, Julian, so I made a little bit of everything.
Have you ever tried chicken Francese? I also picked up some fresh sourdough from the bakery down the street.
They make the best bread, you have to try it... "
Five minutes later, we were settled in the living room, steaming mugs of hot chocolate in our hands.
The house felt weirdly familiar and foreign at the same time.
Everything was exactly as I'd left it a few months ago—the worn sofa, the family photos on the mantle, the slight crack in the ceiling over the TV—but it seemed different anyway.
Like I was seeing it all through new eyes.
My mother sat in her favorite armchair, tucking her legs underneath her the way she always did. “So,” she said, looking between Julian and me with barely contained curiosity. “How did you two meet?”
“At college,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “We were in a couple of the same classes.”
“Business strategy and international economics,” Julian added smoothly. “Violet sat two rows ahead of me in both of them. I noticed her on the first day.”
My mother's brows rose. “Love at first sight?”
“Something like that,” Julian replied, glancing at me with a small smile that made my stomach flutter.
The crazy thing was, it wasn't entirely a lie. He really had noticed me that first day, before everything else complicated it.
“That's very sweet,” my mother said. “And then you both ended up doing the same internship. The Valcourt Institute for Policy and Economic Research, right?”
“Yes. The institute recruits very heavily from BHU,” Julian said. “It's actually how we got to know each other better. Working together on various research projects.”
My mother nodded, taking a small sip of her hot chocolate.
“I know I'm not supposed to ask too many questions about it,” she said, looking back at me.
“I know what these places are like with their security clearances and confidentiality agreements.
But I'm just so proud of you for getting in, sweetheart.
And I'm glad you can continue your studies at the same time. But it must be hard, balancing both.”
“It can be,” I said, forcing a smile. “But it's worth it. The experience has been... invaluable.”
That, at least, was true.
“And Julian's been helping me a lot,” I added, glancing at him.
“I'm sure he has.” My mother's smile turned knowing. “It's nice to have someone looking out for you. Especially after...” Her expression turned somber. “After everything with Calista, and now this awful news. I've been really worried about you, honey.”
“I know, Mom. But I'll be okay.”
She set down her mug, leaning forward slightly. “You don't have to hide your feelings around me, Violet,” she said softly. “What that girl did to Calista… it’s unspeakable. I can still hardly believe it.”
I swallowed hard. “I'm angry,” I admitted. “Furious, actually. But I'm dealing with it. And having Julian with me has really helped.”
My mother's gaze shifted to Julian, her expression softening. “Thank you,” she said. "For taking care of my girl.”
Julian's hand found mine on the couch, his fingers lacing through mine. “I always will.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. My mother’s eyes grew suspiciously bright again, and she leaned forward to grab a tissue from a box on the coffee table.
“There’s someone else I’d like you to meet soon, Mom,” I said softly. “If it’s okay with you.”
“Who?” she asked, dabbing her cheeks with the tissue.
“Julian’s brother Roman. He flew here with us, but he’s staying at a hotel for now.” I hesitated, then took a deep breath. “He was in a relationship with Cal before… before what happened to her. He really loved her.”
“What?” Mom’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t he contact us afterward? Or come to the funeral?”
Julian cleared his throat. “He wasn’t sure if that would be okay,” he said. “Seeing as Cal hadn’t introduced him to anyone yet. He thought it might be confusing, and he didn’t want to intrude on your grief, either.”
“That’s ridiculous. He would’ve been welcome here anytime,” Mom said. “I’d really like to meet him.”
“I’ll let him know. He’ll be very happy to hear it.”
“Call him right now, please.” Mom sat up straighter. “Tell him we’re going to visit Cal’s grave tomorrow morning, and I’d love for him to join us. We can go out for lunch afterwards and get to know each other.”
“All right.” Julian rose to his feet, chin dipping in a polite nod. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Once he was out of the room, my mother leaned forward. “He seems great,” she said in a hushed tone. “So nice. Smart, too. And he’s very handsome, isn’t he?”
I smiled. “Yeah, he is.”
“Although… they’re the ones you have to watch out for, aren’t they?” she said, forehead creasing. “I’ve been watching a lot of those true crime documentaries lately, and the sheer number of handsome, charming men who turn out to be serial killers is just mind-blowing.”
My brows rose, and she waved a hand. “Not that I'm implying Julian is a serial killer, of course,” she added hurriedly. “I just meant in general, us ladies have to watch out for the charming ones, don’t we?”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I replied. “Julian’s not a serial killer.”
Just a trained assassin. Totally different.
The thought should’ve disturbed me more than it did, and maybe it would have a few months ago. But after everything I'd learned, everything I'd seen, I'd come to understand that the world wasn't as black and white as I'd once believed.
I knew I could never participate in that side of Julian's life. The guilt I still carried from what Cal and I did to Neil when we were kids was proof enough of that. But I understood it now.
Sometimes violence was necessary. Sometimes it was the only way to protect the people you loved, or to stop people who would hurt others without remorse.
The Club's methods were extreme, but in their world, among people with that much power and that many enemies, extreme was often the only option that worked.
It didn't make it right. But it made it... comprehensible. And I could live with that.
“Of course he’s not a killer,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’m really glad you’ve met someone who makes you happy and supports you. At a time like this, you really need that.”