Countdown to Ruin: His Fake Bride

A pitchblack Ferrari screeched against the asphalt, the tires burning rubber as it braked just inches from my knees. The door slammed open.

Julian stepped out, dangling his racing helmet from one hand. He stalked closer, his jaw clenched tight. The raw, aggressive heat in his eyes looked ready to swallow me alive.

Six years ago, I took a twentymilliondollar check from his family and dumped him without looking back. Now, he was a famous race car driver.

And I was the emergency fillin host dragged here to interview him.

My fingernails bit into the edges of the cue cards. "The reason for your breakup with your first love was…" A flash of unhinged madness burned in his dark eyes.

His tall, imposing frame cast a heavy shadow over me, suffocating the air between us as he looked down with cold disdain. "I don't know." He leaned in, the faint scent of exhaust and mint invading my space. "I’d like to ask her that, too.

Why exactly did she throw me away?" Chapter 1 I had exactly zero preparation for running into Julian again. The deafening roar of engines shredded the quiet night.

The lead black Ferrari tore through the mountain pass like a feral beast slipping its leash.

The sharp, acrid scent of burning rubber hit the back of my throat as the tires scraped dangerously close to the guardrails, lapping the canyon road in a blur of speed.

Wyatt shoved a stack of papers into my chest. "These rich kids are doing some mountain runs.

The guy we're interviewing tonight is in that lead car." "We only get ten minutes with him.

Just stick to the script." Joanne, the usual host for the segment, had just been rushed to the ER with appendicitis. They dragged me out here as a lastminute body double.

Now I was freezing my ass off in the midnight mountain wind. I flipped open the folder to check the bio. My pulse flatlined. Julian.

Wyatt was still buzzing next to me. "You just moved back stateside, so you probably don't know him yet.

Julian is last season's FIA GT1 champion, founder of the SUI Supercar Club, and the sole heir to the Julian family empire…" I clamped my mouth shut. Oh, I knew him all right.

Six years ago, I ripped his heart out and tossed it in the trash. He hated me enough to want me dead, nearly destroying himself in the fallout. A cold knot twisted in my gut.

Why couldn't I be the one with a ruptured appendix right now? I took a step back, ready to bolt, but I was a second too late. The black Ferrari ripped across the finish line.

Tires screamed. The chassis whipped around in a sharp, calculated drift. It locked onto my position and gunned the engine straight at me. The headlights blinded me.

The roaring engine shook the ground beneath my boots. My lungs seized. I couldn't move. Is he trying to kill me? The brakes shrieked.

Smoke plumed as the bumper stopped less than three feet from my kneecaps.

Wyatt rushed over, his face pale. "Jesus, are you okay?" I forced a stiff shake of my head, my palms slick with cold sweat.

The rest of the racing crew piled out of their cars, laughing as they sauntered over. "Damn, Julian, playing a little rough tonight, huh?

You scared the hell out of her." The driver's side door swung open. The man of the hour stepped out, decked in a blackandred racing suit.

He had his helmet tucked under one arm, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Julian stared down at me.

He stepped half a pace closer, the sheer physical presence of him suffocating the air out of my lungs, and let out a dark scoff. "Sorry.

Didn't notice there was a living, breathing person standing here." He had changed. The sharp angles of his face held a cold, untouchable hostility that hadn't been there before.

If I couldn't escape, I wasn't going to let him see me bleed. I forced the corners of my mouth up into a practiced, bulletproof smile. "Mr. Julian.

I'm Blair, your host for tonight's interview." Julian arched a brow. "What the hell is my assistant doing?

Booking me for this trashtier show." He refused to play ball on the mountain. A simple tenminute standing interview turned into a mandatory relocation to his hotel suite.

Terrified I was going to quit on the spot, Wyatt practically hovered over me in the car ride down. "Julian literally never does media," Wyatt pleaded, his hands clasped together. "Our network hit the jackpot.

The ratings on this are going to be insane. Just grit your teeth and bear it." Strictly business. Once we hit the penthouse suite, Wyatt started setting up the camera gear.

A few minutes later, Julian emerged in fresh clothes. We rolled the cameras.

The first few questions were standard fluff—career goals, the race schedule for the second half of the year.

He lounged on the leather sofa, long legs crossed at the knee, answering in a slow, detached drawl. Smooth enough. But the script took a sharp turn.

Under the heavy, scorching weight of his gaze, the muscles in my neck locked up. I gripped the cue card, forcing the words out. "Rumor has it you had a relationship in college.

Your first love, actually. Would you mind sharing the reason for the breakup?" Chapter 2 Julian didn't answer. He didn't say a word. He just stared right into my eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, a dark, suppressed madness bled into his gaze.

His massive frame radiated a suffocating pressure as he looked down at me with cold disdain. "I don't know." He leaned closer. "I’d like to ask her that, too.

Why exactly did she throw me away?" The cue card in my hand held even more intrusive questions about his love life, but the words stuck in my throat.

I was done playing this game. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Julian. That concludes our interview." I stood up and walked out.

Wyatt looked absolutely gutted, complaining the entire walk to the parking garage. "He didn't cut you off!

Why didn't you keep digging?" "I wasn't about to poke the bear," I said flatly. "Trust fund guys like him usually have garbage tempers." And Julian's temper was the definition of garbage.

Back in college, he was an arrogant, untamable brat dripping with toxic heir syndrome. But with me? He used to fold instantly, catering to my every whim like a lovesick puppy.

Everyone on campus used to say he was hopelessly whipped. The second we got into the van, Wyatt's phone buzzed. It was the hotel—we'd left a voice recorder in the penthouse.

I didn't want to go back up there. Every instinct told me Julian had orchestrated this.

But Wyatt was dead on his feet from hauling the heavy camera gear, so I took the elevator back up alone. The suite was pitch black.

Julian sat on the leather sofa, idly flipping the silver voice recorder between his fingers.

His face was unreadable in the shadows. "Not going to catch up with an old friend?" he asked. "In a rush.

Maybe next time." I snatched the recorder from his hand and pivoted toward the exit. Julian lunged. His massive hand clamped around my wrist like a steel vise, wrenching me back.

He slammed me hard against the cold wooden door, trapping me. "You actually have the nerve to show your face to me again?!" His pitchblack eyes locked onto me, sharp and lethal as a drawn blade.

I expected the hatred. After all, the way we ended was a bloodbath. Six years ago, I used some fabricated dirt on Julian to extort a massive payout from the Julian family.

The night I was packing to flee the country, he somehow found out. He was burning up with a fever, but he still dragged himself out into the freezing rain to find me.

Over a dozen of his family's bodyguards had to tackle him to the wet pavement, pinning him down. "Please, don't go! Tell me what that bastard can give you that I can't!

I'll give you my damn life!" He begged me to stay. But I didn't even spare him a glance. I let his voice crack and shred in pathetic desperation.

From start to finish, I was a stone wall. As my cab slowly pulled away, the fight finally drained out of him.

His eyes locked onto mine, feral and unhinged. "You better never come back!" he roared, the sound ripping through the rain. "If I ever find you, I'll kill you!" The memories were suffocating.

I kept my mouth shut. The crushing grip on my wrist tightened, threatening to snap my bones. Julian ground his teeth, his voice a lethal whisper. "You vanished for six years.

I tore the world apart looking for you for six years." "Six. Years. Blair, how the hell do you have the guts to come back?" "Why wouldn't I?

I came back with my boyfriend." I didn't flinch.

I met his murderous gaze and flashed a flawless, empty smile. "Boyfriend?" The dangerous heat in his eyes flickered, and his voice dropped to a deceptively soft murmur. "Yeah.

We met overseas. Harrison, the second son of the Harrison family." Dead silence swallowed the room. Julian suddenly dropped my wrist.

He turned his back to me, the muscles in his broad shoulders winding tight as coiled wire. "Get out." It was a single, raspy command dragged from his throat.

As if looking at me for one more second would physically make him sick. Chapter 3 The interview was a complete wash. I didn't dig up any real dirt.

Joanne got discharged from the hospital looking like hell, but since I was the new kid on the block, she figured I was just too chicken to push the hard questions.

She let me off the hook. Right after work that night, Harrison swung by to pick me up.

He had just moved back stateside and was in desperate need of networking to build up his contacts. He said there was a VIP mixer tonight and he needed me as his plusone.

I wasn't bluffing Julian back at the hotel. Harrison and I really were dating. But the nature of our relationship was strictly transactional.

I wanted his money, and he wanted arm candy. We were a fake couple with zero strings attached and absolute mutual noninterference. The VIP room was packed with trust fund babies.

The second we walked in, it was a chorus of "future Mrs. Harrison" this and "Harrison's girl" that.

Over the loud bass of the music, someone yelled, "Where the hell is Julian?" My stomach dropped. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Julian made his grand entrance.

He pushed the heavy velvet door open. His sharp gaze immediately zeroed in on Harrison and me. It lingered for a fraction of a second before he looked away.

He took a seat in the center booth, instantly swarmed by the crowd offering him drinks and lighting his cigarettes. Julian kept his expression utterly blank.

He held a lit cigarette between his knuckles and knocked back shots of whiskey like it was water.

The guy who used to refuse even a drop of alcohol back in college was now a seasoned pro.

I kept my mouth shut and watched him. "Damn, Julian, you still haven't lasered that tattoo off?" Someone with sharp eyes pointed at the inside of Julian's right wrist.

There was a butterfly inked right over his pulse point. The red lines were faded and blurred from the laser removal.

The guy next to him gave a knowing smirk. "Obviously got it for a chick. Bet he hates her guts but can't bear to wash her out completely." "Which chick?

We met Julian late in the game, never heard about any crazy ex." Julian lazily lifted his heavy eyelids. "Forgot her a long time ago." He took a drag from his cigarette. "Went through two laser sessions.

Got too annoying, so I just left it for now." He glanced over at me where I was busy burying my face in a fruit platter.

His gaze felt like a vine of poisonous thorns, sliding slowly from my exposed collarbone all the way down to my fingertips.

The heavy, unapologetic weight of his stare instantly scorched the air in the VIP room.

His voice was freezing cold. "Whenever I get some free time, I'll just cover it up with a giant, ugly rat." I choked on a piece of watermelon and started hacking my lungs out.

Harrison quickly patted my back to smooth out my breathing. Julian kept his face deadpan. He leaned across the table and shoved a bottle of water in front of me. "Drink up, Ms.

Blair. Try not to choke to death." Still a toxic bastard.

Harrison raised an eyebrow. "You guys know each other?" I chugged half the water and finally caught my breath. "I interviewed Mr.

Julian a few days ago." A few guys from the mountain race the other night were sitting nearby.

Hearing that, they started hollering, swearing they didn't recognize me out of my work clothes and insisting on taking penalty shots to apologize.

Harrison chuckled. "What a small world. Mr. Julian, my Blair's pretty good at her job, right?

We actually met because she dragged me into a random street interview." Julian gripped his whiskey glass tight enough to crack the crystal.

He just let out a cold smirk, saying absolutely nothing. After a few more rounds of drinks, they got down to business. Harrison started testing the waters to pitch a deal to Julian.

The Harrison family assets were mostly overseas, so coming back to the States meant they desperately needed a partnership with the Julian empire.

The rest of the table started hyping it up, joking that Harrison was bleeding cash to make this happen. Harrison laughed easily. "That's nothing.

If it locks in a deal with Julian Enterprises, I'll give up whatever it takes." ulian smiled too. But the smile didn't reach his eyes. It was pure ice.

He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

He turned his head and locked his dark, heavy gaze dead onto me. "What if I offer ten times the price to buy out your relationship?" Chapter 4 "Julian's drunk." Harrison brushed it off with a laugh, assuming the liquor was doing the talking.

Julian leaned back against the leather sofa. He struck a match, lit another cigarette, and narrowed his eyes through the smoke. "I'm stonecold sober." Harrison froze.

The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a dark, ugly tension. The two men locked eyes. The air in the room thickened, sharp enough to cut glass.

The loud, rowdy VIP booth plunged into absolute silence. Nobody dared to breathe. I couldn't sit there another second. I stood up. "Mr.

Julian, stop joking around," I said, keeping my voice perfectly steady. "My boyfriend and I are very happy together. Something came up, so I need to head out.

You all have fun talking business." Harrison caught the dangerous undercurrent between us.

As if marking his territory, he stood up right behind me and wrapped a heavy arm around my waist, declaring he was walking me out.

The second Harrison's hand touched my waist, Julian snapped. He chucked his cigarette onto the floor.

The hostility practically radiated off his skin, every muscle in his body coiled to the absolute breaking point. Before anyone could even blink, Julian lunged.

His fist connected with Harrison's jaw with a sickening crack. "Let her go! Don't fucking touch her!" Harrison stumbled back, blood instantly pooling at the corner of his split lip.

Julian, like a feral wolf driven completely over the edge, kicked over the glass coffee table, grabbed Harrison by the collar, and slammed him viciously against the wall behind them.

Total chaos erupted. Everyone rushed in to pull them apart.

I stepped right in front of Harrison, blocking Julian's path. "Are you insane?" I demanded, my voice icy. "What gives you the right to hit him?" Julian stopped.

His chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. He pointed a shaking finger toward the door, roaring at the rest of the room to get the hell out.

Once the room cleared, his hand shot back to point at Harrison. "You're protecting him?

What kind of bullshit did he feed you?" Julian rasped, his voice tearing. "Do you have any idea that this piece of trash is just using you as a placeholder?! You're a damn idiot!

Harrison sleeps around, he's drowning in scandals, and he's only with you because you look like his exgirlfriend.

He's using you as a cheap knockoff to make someone else jealous!" Harrison wiped the blood from his mouth and let out a dark scoff. "Whatever we do behind closed doors is none of your business.

Who the hell are you to her anyway?" That single sentence obliterated the last shred of Julian's sanity. Blood vessels popped in Julian's eyes.

The harsh lines of his jaw pulled taut, his features darkening into a storm of dangerous intent. "None of my business?

I spent six fucking years tearing the world apart looking for her.

You tell me who I am to her!" Julian grabbed Harrison's collar, the veins bulging against his knuckles, and threw another punch. "She's my girlfriend now!" Harrison snarled back, throwing a right hook of his own.

The two of them crashed into the furniture, fists flying. I just wanted this pathetic circus to end. "Enough, Julian." I didn't yell.

I just let the words drop, cold and dead. "You don't need to play hero for me. I like being his placeholder. So stay the hell out of my business, okay?" Instantly.

Every ounce of fight drained out of Julian's body. He froze midswing. He turned his head mechanically, staring at me with blank, uncomprehending shock.

Harrison didn't miss the opening. "Mind your own damn business," he sneered, delivering a brutal hook straight to Julian's face. Harrison wore a heavy signet ring on his right hand.

The metal tore open the skin above Julian's eyebrow. Dark red blood instantly spilled down his eyelid, painting half his face in a grotesque crimson streak.

Julian didn't even flinch. It was like he couldn't feel the impact at all. His face went deathly pale.

He blinked slowly, the blood dripping from his lashes, and just stared at me. "Do you really like him that much?" I didn't answer.

I grabbed Harrison's arm and pulled him out of the room. The door clicked shut behind us.

Chapter 5 When I pushed the heavy door open, a plastic pharmacy bag hanging from my wrist, I heard a bitter, broken laugh. Julian was completely alone.

The cut above his eyebrow was still bleeding, trailing crimson down the side of his face, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

He was staring down at his right wrist—at the faded, blurred ink of that butterfly. "You deserve this, Julian," he muttered to the empty room, his voice raw. "You're the real idiot here." His voice cracked.

Hearing my footsteps, he looked up.

He slumped heavily onto the carpet, his large hands gripping his hair, pulling at the dark strands as if trying to rip the pain straight out of his skull.

A hoarse, guttural sound ripped from his throat—the heavy, suffocating panting of a trapped, dying animal. I walked over in total silence.

I knelt beside him on the rug, ripping open the sterile alcohol wipes to clean the blood. Two minutes later, the bleeding stopped.

But the heavy, jagged breaths tearing from his chest didn't. "You promised," he choked out, his voice utterly shattered. "You promised you would never leave me behind.

You're a liar." Something sharp and heavy splintered against my ribcage. I pressed my pale lips together, keeping my expression perfectly hollow. "Yeah. I lied to you. I ruined you.

Stop thinking about me." Back in college, there was this one time Julian was standing in a massive line just to buy me an iced latte.

I was waiting on the curb when I saw a street vendor walking away with a cart full of those woven leather couple's bracelets that were trending everywhere online.

I wanted matching ones for us. Without telling Julian, I sprinted down the block to catch the vendor before he disappeared.

When I finally made it back, Julian was tearing through the crowd, his eyes wild and frantic. He looked like he was completely losing his mind. I ran over.

Julian yanked me into his chest, his arms locking around me so tight my bones ached. "Where the hell did you go?" he breathed heavily into my hair, his whole body trembling. "I couldn't find you.

You didn't answer your phone. I thought… I thought you left me." He was a stagefive clinger.

He had zero sense of security, living in constant, paranoid fear that one day I'd get bored and throw him away.

His frat brothers used to mock him for being hopelessly, pathetically whipped. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, calming him down. "I'm sorry. My phone was on silent.

I didn't leave you." Julian bent down, his pitchblack eyes heavy with a dark, drowning kind of love.

He pressed his forehead flush against mine, his breath scorching my skin, and demanded a promise. I let out a helpless laugh, hooking my pinky around his. "I promise.

I will never leave Julian behind." That finally settled the storm in his head. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his grip tightening.

The wind blew past, carrying his clean, cedarwood scent. Our racing heartbeats pounded against each other, syncing into one rhythm.

Back then, I was the one who made that sacred promise. And in the end, I was the one who broke it. Harrison was still waiting for me downstairs.

I walked out of the club and slid into the passenger seat of his sports car.

The city was swallowed by a thick, hazy rain, the chassis slicing through the blurred neon lights of the streets.

The drive was dead silent until we were a few blocks from my apartment. He finally snapped. "You and Julian.

There's serious history there." "None of your business," I replied, staring out the rainslicked window. "Don't forget our deal.

Mutual noninterference." He wouldn't let it go, probing further. "You still care about him.

If you didn't, you wouldn't have run to a pharmacy and doubled back just to patch up his face." He reached up, wincing as he touched his swollen jaw, and let out an annoyed click of his tongue. "The guy throws a hell of a punch.

The business deal is completely dead, and I got my ass beat." "The least you could do is pretend to care about me.

You're really just going to leave me hanging?" "I don't manage your life, and I have zero obligation to," I said flatly. With Harrison, my walls were entirely up.

The second the words left my mouth, Harrison jerked the steering wheel, pulling the car over to the curb.

He slammed it into park, turned in his seat, and stared hard at me. "Is it that you don't manage my life, or that you refuse to? Is there a difference?" "Yeah.

A massive one." A stubborn, aggressive edge hardened his voice. Chapter 6 I let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Don't tell me you're catching real feelings for me.

Your precious ex would cry her eyes out if she knew." Harrison stayed silent for a few heartbeats before shifting the car into drive. "In your dreams.

You treat me like absolute dirt." "I'm no simp—I'm definitely not falling for you.

Blair, you're not in this deal with me for the money." He kept his eyes on the dark road. "You care about Julian, but you're hellbent on breaking his heart and making him give up on you.

I can't read you at all. I have no idea what the hell you're trying to do." I kept my mouth shut.

I turned my head to stare out the rainstreaked window, watching the blurred neon lights flicker in the reflection of my eyes. It didn't matter. His pain was only temporary.

Because I was going to die. And after I was gone, every single memory of me would be completely erased from his mind.

Back in my senior year of college, Julian and I had been dating for three years.

While my roommates were buried in senior theses and frantically sending out resumes, I couldn't focus on any of it. Because a cold, robotic voice had suddenly hijacked my brain.

It told me I was just a side character in a book. According to the original plot, I was destined to become the male lead's placeholder lover—Harrison's fake girlfriend.

He would marry me just to force his precious ex to come crawling back. And he would get exactly what he wanted. On our wedding day, the real female lead would crash the venue.

Harrison would ditch me at the altar to chase after her.

Then, I would chase after him, get hit by a car, and die on the spot—serving as the perfect tragic obstacle for their epic romance. How completely absurd.

My entire existence was just a cheap, disposable plot device. I refused to believe it.

So, the system forced me to believe it. [ "Julian is the male lead of an entirely different story. The two of you were never supposed to cross paths.

I cannot locate the error in the timeline," ] The system's mechanical voice echoed, tinged with cold confusion. [ "But as the price for this anomaly, Julian will be completely erased by the laws of this world.

His deaths will become increasingly gruesome until his soul is reduced to ash.

This is already the eleventh time he has died for you." ] The moment it spoke, a massive, suffocating wave of memories flooded my brain. I saw the first ten lifetimes.

The first time. One second, Julian was smiling at me, saying the mousse cake at the new bakery across the street was amazing. He stepped off the curb to buy me a slice.

The next second, a massive, outofcontrol semitruck crushed him under its tires. He died on impact. The second time. A crazed man lunged at us with a hunting knife.

Julian shoved me behind him, using his own body as a human shield. The blade tore into him over a dozen times.

He bled out on the operating table after two hours of desperate surgery. The third time. The fourth time… Each death was more agonizing than the last.

He died right in front of me, over and over again. The tenth time. We had been together for six years. Our families had met and given us their blessing.

Julian was twentyfive, at the absolute peak of his life. He had just easily clinched the championship title at an international race.

Still standing on the podium, he suddenly pulled out a diamond ring, looked straight into the live broadcast camera, and proposed to me in front of the entire world. "Blair, wait for me to come home.

Marry me." He smirked, his smile wildly arrogant and fiercely bright.

Staring at my phone screen thousands of miles away, completely wrapped in a suffocating kind of happiness, I sobbed and nodded at the glass. I was ready to be his wife.

But Julian broke his promise. He got sick. His body wasted away at a terrifying speed.

His organs began to fail one by one, shutting down while the doctors scrambled, unable to find a single medical cause. He couldn't keep any food down.

He was hooked up to IV bags just to stay alive. The disease tortured him, stripping the muscle from his bones until he looked like a ghost, his skin completely drained of color.

At the very end, he was violently coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood.

Tangled in a web of plastic tubes and hospital wires, he was so devastatingly weak that all he could do was curve his eyes into a soft, tired smile when he looked at me.

Chapter 7 The day he left me, it was snowing. Julian, who had been trapped in a deep coma for days, suddenly forced his eyes open.

He used the last ounce of his strength to grip my hand tight.

His voice was nothing but a raw, sandpaper whisper as he asked me if he looked so pathetic now that he didn't even have the right to protect me anymore.

My throat choked completely shut. I could only shake my head frantically, tears blurring my vision. "Don't cry," he breathed.

He barely managed to curl his fingers, weakly scratching the center of my palm like a frail kitten. We met on a snowy night. He wanted to touch the snow one last time.

I sprinted out of the ward and frantically packed a snowball with my bare, freezing hands. I pushed the heavy hospital door open.

The snowball slipped from my numb fingers, shattering against the linoleum floor. Julian's eyes were closed.

His chest had stopped rising. [ "I have endless energy to burn," ] The system's mechanical voice chimed, completely devoid of empathy.

It warned me that I had to return to the main plot immediately. [ "If you stubbornly continue to deviate and stay with Julian, the death loop will never stop.

Only this time, the stakes are different. Julian's soul will be entirely obliterated.

Even if you reset the timeline millions of times, he will never exist again." ] Fate was a merciless butcher.

No matter how hard I smashed my head against the wall, I couldn't break free from the suffocating, prewritten ending of this damn book. My brain shortcircuited.

My mind became a horrific highlight reel of every single time Julian bled out right in front of my eyes.

The brutal flashbacks carved into my skull until the edges of my vision blurred with white noise.

Just the thought of a world without Julian in it sent a visceral, agonizing cramp through my chest. My fingernails bit so deep into my palms that they drew blood.

I hid in the dark corner of my room, my entire body violently convulsing as I gasped for air. When dawn broke, I scrubbed the dried tears off my face.

I asked the system one final question: Does Julian's female lead treat him well? The system answered.

According to the timeline, shortly after I died, Julian would meet his destined female lead. She was vibrant, full of life, like a literal ray of sunshine.

They would have an epic, sweeping romance. At the end of their story, they would have two beautiful children.

I listened in total silence, fat, hot tears spilling over my lashes and dropping onto the floorboards. That was great. A completely, flawlessly happy ending.

I could finally breathe. This time, I surrendered. I needed Julian to live. And I would follow the script straight to my grave.

So, I fabricated dirt on Julian and used it to extort a massive payout from the Julian empire.

I took a surgical knife to our relationship, brutally severing every single tie in the ugliest, most unforgivable way possible