Chapter 7 - Coffee and Collateral
Julian didn't wait for my permission; he walked around the front of my battered Honda Civic and slid gracefully into the passenger seat before I could protest. The car suddenly felt entirely too small, his presence filling the cabin with a quiet, commanding gravity.
"You shouldn't be here," I said, staring straight ahead through the windshield. "My family is a mess. My brother is facing criminal investigation, my parents are in total denial, and my name is currently tied up in a financial scandal at Ellison University."
"Which is precisely why I am sitting in your passenger seat," Julian said, turning toward me slightly. He rested his forearm on the center console. "Do you think I don't know who your father is? Robert Vance has been a minor-league commercial real estate broker in this county for twenty years, riding the coattails of better men. And your brother Brandon is a lazy fraud who thought he could use your identity as a personal credit card."
"How do you know all that?" I demanded, turning to face him fully.
"Because my firm audits the financial portfolios of incoming scholarship students who flag high-risk anomalies," Julian explained, his eyes locking onto mine with piercing clarity. "When our automated systems intercepted the fraudulent student loans your brother took out in your name, we dug deeper. We found the drained trust fund. We found the pawn slips. And more importantly, Ava, we found the forensic accounting packet you prepared."
I swallowed hard. "You read my file?"
"I read every word," Julian said softly. "You compiled a masterclass in financial fraud tracking with zero professional training, working off a cracked laptop in a house that actively tried to crush your ambition. That isn't just resilience, Ava. That's talent."
Before I could process his words, my phone buzzed violently in the cup holder. I glanced down. The screen lit up with an incoming call from an unlisted number—followed immediately by a text message preview from my mother: Please, Ava. Brandon is talking about running away. Call us back.
I silenced the ringer and flipped the phone face down.
Julian watched me do it, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips. "Good choice. Cutting the cord is the hardest part, but it's the only way you survive."
"So what do you want from me, Mr. Rhodes?" I asked, my voice dropping into a cautious, pragmatic register. "Nobody hands out full-ride tuitions and housing stipends out of pure charity, especially not high-powered corporate benefactors."
"True," Julian agreed readily. "I don't want charity, Ava. I want a partner. I'm currently launching a private forensic investigations unit focused on corporate embezzlement and academic institutional fraud. I need someone sharp, ruthless, and completely immune to intimidation."
I stared at him, the sheer audacity of the proposal taking my breath away. "I'm an incoming college freshman."
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"And I was running my first equity firm at nineteen," Julian replied. "Think about it. You can spend the next four years hiding in the library, dodging collection agencies your brother created, or you can step into a real arena."
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