Chapter 1

one

. . .

The blare of a car horn sent Hillary’s heart thrumming as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, blowing out a breath and taking her first pause of the morning.

“Getting hit by a car is not going to be the fix your life needs.” She muttered as the light changed, officially signaling her to cross.

Hillary darted through the busy streets, her chestnut ponytail whipping behind her as she clutched a stack of papers in one hand and a sloshing coffee cup in the other. The morning rush hour surged around her, a cacophony of blaring car horns and animated chatter from other walkers. She wove skillfully between briefcase-toting businessmen and cell-phone-engrossed pedestrians, her short heels clicking urgently against the sidewalk as if to taunt her.

If she was going to make it into the office to impress Olivia, she needed to hustle a lot faster. New York City was the busiest during rush hour, and her alarm hadn’t gone, making her late to the stupid train that took her into the city. At least you woke up on your own.

“Excuse me,” she murmured breathlessly as she narrowly avoided a collision with a street vendor hawking roasted nuts despite it being hotter than any fall day needed to be. The enticing aroma of cinammon made her empty stomach protest, but there was no time. She was already running late.

Again.

Stealing a glance at her watch without loosening her grip on the papers, Hillary sighed. The delicate silver timepiece her father had given her when she landed her coveted magazine job read just after nine.

Olivia is going to have my head , Hillary thought with a grimace. She picked up her pace, gritting her teeth as if it would push her feet to move faster or shrink the distance between seventh and fortieth and seventh and fifty-third.

Her calves screamed with each strike of her shoe against the concrete, but Hillary didn’t slow down. Not until the gleaming fifteen-story building that held all of Pendel Holding’s magazines came into view. It looked like every other glass-paneled building in New York, but for Hillary, it was home.

More than slightly winded, Hillary shouldered against the polished revolving door bar, pushing slightly to get the damn thing to rotate, and stepped into the sleek, modern lobby.

“Morning, Miss Hillary. A little late,” Johnny, the doorman-slash-security guard, said with a wink as she hustled past toward the bay of elevators.

“Only a little!” Grinning, she lifted her hip as close as she could to the panel that would read the code on the badge handing off her waistband and send the elevator to the pre-programmed floor. Thankfully, the chime came quickly, and the doors to the second elevator slid open. “See you around lunch!”

Leaning against the rail in the elevator, Hillary let out a sigh, grateful for the forty-seconds or so to relax before the day truly began. Far too soon, the elevator stopped, and the doors re-opened.

Hillary took a deep breath, steeling herself for another day of trying to find her place in this glamorous, cutthroat world so far from the small-town simplicities of her upbringing in upstate New York. Stepping out, she took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee. “You’ve got this, Hil,” she muttered under her breath as the doors closed. “Time to shine.”

As she stepped onto the eighth floor where Muse Magazine had their office, the air hummed with a familiar energy. The sound of ringing phones blended seamlessly with the rapid-fire chatter of her coworkers, creating a symphony of productivity. People bustled around with purpose, striding confidently between cubicles and conference rooms. The smell of fresh coffee and printer ink mingled in the air, adding to the bustling atmosphere. For her, it was both invigorating and intimidating— a constant reminder to keep up with the fast-paced world of journalism.

“Morning Alice, cute skirt!” Hillary called to the receptionist as she rushed by the front desk toward the other desks. “Thanks hon, knock ‘em dead!” Alice replied with a warm smile, waving her through.

As other magazine staff milled around her, exchanging industry gossip, a familiar pang of not quite belonging rose in her chest, making her all the more aware of how late she was. She smoothed her simple blouse and tugged at her modest pencil skirt, suddenly self-conscious of her understated attire compared to the cutting-edge fashions draped on everyone else.

Turning the corner from the noise of the art section, the energy only doubled when faced with the reporter’s desks and editor’s row of offices. Muse Magazine had one editor per news section, as well as digital versus print. There was never a lack of people yelling around the office.

She wove through the maze of desks, nodding and smiling at her colleagues as she made her way to her own small workspace.

“Hey, Hillary!” a cheerful voice called out. She turned to see Jack, one of the staff writers, grinning at her from his desk. “Did you catch that new superhero movie this weekend, Bone Jumper? I heard it was awesome, looking to get away from the parties tomorrow and find time to see it.”

Hillary’s face lit up, her nervousness momentarily forgotten. There weren’t too many people that knew she enjoyed a good superhero movie. “Oh my gosh, yes! The special effects were incredible, and the plot had so many unexpected twists. I couldn’t believe when?—”

“Hillary, do you have a minute?” a voice interrupted.

Turning, she found Megan, Olivia’s assistant, looking at her expectantly. Even though she had known who said her name before she turned, confirming that the editor-in-chief was looking for her did not make her Monday any better. Especially if Megan had been circling and knew Hillary was late.

“Of course,” Hillary replied, her enthusiasm quickly replaced by a flutter of anxiety. She gave Jack an apologetic smile before hurrying over to Megan.

“Olivia wanted me to check in on your progress with the lifestyle piece on the artist. She’s hoping to see a draft by end of day.”

Hillary’s heart sank. The article had been giving her trouble, and she was behind schedule because the fickle photographer didn’t want to be interviewed. She forced a confident smile. “Absolutely, I’m just putting the finishing touches on it. It’ll be ready.”

Megan nodded, her expression unreadable. “Great. I’ll let her know.” She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Hillary standing there, her mind racing.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, echoing a similar pep talk from while she got dressed. “Just got to get to the desk and get on the phone.”

Settling at her desk after a few steps back the way she came, Hillary pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it, seeing the same blinking cursor from the subway ride. The stupid thing mocked her, her own insecurities reflected back in the stark white of the empty document. She could have at least written the start. She didn’t need the famous Marcos DeLatore for that bit, but she hadn’t.

Grinding her teeth, Hillary began to type, her fingers moving far too slowly over the keys. She lost herself in the work, the outside world fading away as she crafted sentences and wove together paragraphs. This was where she felt most at home, most herself—in the world of words and stories.

As she wrote, she held onto a nagging feeling that this piece, like so many others, wouldn’t be enough to impress Olivia. Hillary had poured her heart into every article, desperate to prove herself, to show that she belonged here. But each time, she was met with polite nods and mild praise, never quite earning the glowing approval she craved. Never getting to be in the first twenty-pages of print or anywhere in the digital sphere.

“One day,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving the screen, “one day, I’ll write something that will blow them all away. Something that will make Olivia see me, really see me.”

I just need to get that prick photographer on the phone. Hillary leaned for the phone, ready to try for the fifteenth since yesterday, when a door on the editing floor swung open with a whoosh and slammed into the wall.

The bustling room turned into a hushed, dead silence. Olivia Parker strode out, her high heels clicking against the polished floor. She radiated confidence, her hazel eyes sweeping over the sea of desks and cubicles. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Every gaze was locked on the editor-in-chief as she made her way through the office.

Hillary was no exception.

She couldn’t help but stare, equal parts intimidated and in awe of the woman who held her career in her perfectly manicured hands. Olivia moved with a grace that seemed effortless, her sleek black hair and tailored suit a stark contrast to Hillary’s simple blouse, slacks and loose ponytail.

As Olivia approached Hillary’s desk, Hillary worried she’d puke realizing the editor was coming to her. Olivia didn’t talk to writers, not unless they were feature writers and Hillary absolutely was not. Do not panic. She’s not firing you. She’s not firing you. Straightening in her chair, Hillary flexed her fingers over the keyboard, suddenly uncertain of what to do with her boss—who had never spoken to her—suddenly very close to her desk.

“Hillary,” Olivia said, her voice smooth and commanding. “How’s the piece coming along?”

“It’s... it’s going well,” Hillary managed, cursing the slight tremor in her voice. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on it now.” Don’t worry about the lie. Don’t worry about the lie. Despite being nearly thirty, Hillary was little more than a kid waiting to be yelled at by her parents when it came to her editor.

Olivia leaned over Hillary’s shoulder, her eyes clearly scanning the words on the screen. Hillary held her breath, waiting for the inevitable critique, the subtle disapproval that always seemed to lurk beneath Olivia’s polished exterior.

But to Hillary’s surprise, Olivia smiled. “This is good,” she said, nodding. “You’ve captured the essence of the story, the heart of it. But...” She paused, and Hillary braced herself. “But there’s no quotes, nothing that makes me want to keep reading.” Olivia pulled her glasses off her face and perched them on top of her head. “Dig into those notes. Marcos needs to be on the page, this is just an essay.”

Hillary nodded, her mind already racing with the need to spill that she hadn’t cornered the photographer yet. “I won’t let you down,” she said, her voice unnaturally steady despite the way her insides jittered like she’d had eighteen espresso shots.

“You have a gift, Hillary. One day I’d like to see you do bigger pieces, but your eye for interviewing isn’t there yet. Your voice is fantastic. Get there and big things will happen.”

Olivia turned and strode away, leaving Hillary staring after her, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. Pride at Olivia’s praise. Fear at the thought of failing to live up to her expectations. And beneath it all, a flicker of desire to prove herself. To show the world what she was truly capable of behind her timid gaze.

Hillary turned back to her phone, her fingers poised over the receiver. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and picked up the phone. Marcos was going to answer her questions whether he wanted to or not because she was out of time and this wasn’t something she could be late for.

“I need to speak to Marcos directly.” She lowered her voice even though the normal ruckus had returned. She didn’t need anyone to know how close to deadline she was. “He agreed to an interview with Muse magazine, and it’s time to collect.”

Hillary blew out a breath and set the phone down. Marco was erratic as a cat chasing a laser light, but a glance down at her notepad proved she had everything she needed. Her stomach growled as she set her hands on the keyboard.

“Lunch after.” It was just a little past one, food would wait.

“Hillary!” Megan’s voice floated from the opposite end as she walked up. “Are you done with that piece?”

Hillary fidgeted with a paperclip on the desk. “I thought I had till the end of the day?”

“You do, but Olivia wants to give you this, too.” Megan stuck a sticky note on the front of Hillary’s computer as she approached. The handwriting was messy, but legible.

“Star Coffee?”

“Apparently it just opened and their gig is that celebs come and be barista’s. Olivia wants fifteen hundred words by Friday. Digital launch Saturday morning.”

Hillary stared at the note, her mind reeling. A new assignment? On top of the lifestyle piece she was already scrambling to finish? She swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising panic in her chest.

“Friday?” she repeated, her voice sounding small even to her own ears. “As in, this Friday? Four days from now?”

Megan nodded, her expression sympathetic but firm. “I know it’s tight, but Olivia wants to be the first to cover this place. You know how she is about exclusives.”

Hillary did know. Olivia was relentless in her pursuit of the next big story, always pushing her team to be faster, better, more innovative. It was both inspiring and exhausting.

“Got it,” Hillary said, forcing a smile. “I’ll make it happen.”

Megan gave her a quick nod before hurrying off, no doubt to deliver more of Olivia’s directives. Hillary slumped back in her chair, her gaze flicking between the tiny note and her computer screen.

Fifteen hundred words. A celebrity coffee shop. Three days. She could do this. She had to do this. But not until after she finished the current assignment.

With a deep breath, Hillary refocused on her lifestyle piece. The words flowed more easily now, Marcos’s quotes adding depth and color to the story. She lost herself in the rhythm of writing. Around her, the clatter of keyboards and murmur of voices fading into the background.

It wasn’t until her stomach growled loudly that she glanced at the clock. Nearly three. She’d worked straight through lunch, fueled by adrenaline and the fear of missing her deadline.

Hillary quickly saved her work and pushed back from her desk. She needed food, and she needed it now. Maybe she could grab something quick and brainstorm ideas for the coffee shop piece while she ate.

As she hurried toward the elevators, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this new assignment was more than just another story. It was an opportunity, a chance to prove herself to Olivia and everyone else at Muse.

“Star Coffee,” she murmured under her breath, stepping into the elevator. The name itself was a hook, intriguing and a little edgy. She could work with that.

The doors slid closed, and Hillary leaned against the wall, her mind already spinning with possibilities. Celebrity baristas, unique blends, the story behind the name—there were so many angles to explore.

A small smile played at her lips as the elevator descended. This was why she’d become a journalist. For the thrill of the chase, the rush of uncovering something new and interesting.

The makeup brush swept across Julius’s cheekbone with a feather-light touch. Years ago, it would have elicited a small snicker as it tickled over his skin, now he scarcely noticed it. Closing his eyes, he allowed the rhythmic strokes to lull him into a meditative state amidst the craziness of the sound stage. Stylists and makeup artists moved around him in a choreographed dance, each playing their part in transforming him into the fantasy hero he’d played for the last five years.

“Just a few more minutes, Mr. Theon,” Brandy, assured him, her voice barely audible above the hum of hairdryers and chatter, but her hand steady with the brush.

Julius nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He loved this part of the process—the anticipation, the energy, the knowledge that he would soon bring a beloved character to life. It was why he wanted to act in the first place. To bring people something more than the depression of working and struggling the way so many were forced to live check to check with deadlines and anxiety.

“You just let me know when I can take a sip of that coffee and that’s all I need.” He opened his eyes to give a quick wink and realized they were about to not be alone in his makeup chair.

His agent, Louisa, approached with a tablet in hand, her heels clicking against the polished floor. “Julius, I wanted to discuss your appearance at the convention next weekend.”

“Of course,” Julius replied, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. “I’m really looking forward to it. It’s always incredible to connect with the fans who make all of this possible. Same as today.”

New York City Comic Con was the second most important event for someone in his industry. Being there was essential to keeping himself on top, but also to connect with fans. He knew that without them, there would be no Julius Theon. And not just because his birth name was Justin Thatcher.

Louisa smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “They adore you, Julius. The convention organizers have been inundated with requests for your panel and autograph sessions, don’t worry about your future. I just want to make sure you won’t give anything crazy away...again.”

A happy sort of warmth spread through his chest. He never took his success for granted, and the idea of meeting the people who supported him filled him with genuine excitement. He may have gotten into the bad habit of giving things away they could make money off of, but he’d never see that as a problem.

“I can’t wait to see them,” he said, his voice earnest. “These characters, these stories... they mean so much to so many people. To be a part of that, to bring a little of magic into their lives—it’s an honor.” She glared at him, so he quickly added, “I promise not to give away anything that could retail for over five hundred dollars. Happy?”

Louisa nodded, her expression softening. “You have a true gift, Julius. Not just on screen, but in the way you connect with others. It’s rare in this industry for it to be real, not forced.”

Julius chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just grateful to be here, doing what I love.”

He closed his eyes again when she walked away to let Brandy finish her final touches. In his mind’s eye, he could see the faces of the fans he would soon meet—their smiles, their excitement, their stories. One could say it distracted him from running lines in his mind to ensure he didn’t miss a beat, but he didn’t see it that way.

He couldn’t wait to be a part of that magic, to make people feel seen and valued, even if only for a moment. That connection, he realized, was what truly mattered. It was the reason he poured his heart and soul into every role, every interaction.

With a final brush of powder, he knew Brandy shifted back from the slight movement of air over his bare chest. “You’re all set, Mr. Theon.”

As Julius slowly opened his eyes, he was met with the image of a fierce fae warrior staring back at him in the mirror. Short, dark hair was replaced with a long pale-white wig that hung past his shoulders. Intricate markings meant to be runic designs were set on his skin with a black and gold ink, and his chest was bare, allowing the magic of those runes to work as per the screenwriter. Slightly pointed ears poked between strands of the pale wig, but otherwise there weren’t many signs he wasn’t human. Nor were there many signs he was himself. But as he looked closer, he saw the determination in his own eyes and knew he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The man staring back at him was ready to take on the world, one fan at a time.

“Do I look ready to do a quick meet and greet to fix the PR oops from last week?”

Brandy set her hands on her hips as she clucked her tongue at him. “Are you insinuating my work is not perfect?”

Laughing, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Perfect as always.”

“Then get going, go meet fans and answer some questions.”

As he walked through the studio lot, Julius couldn’t help the surge of excitement coursing through him like too much caffeine. The press release was just the beginning—a prequel to the comic con of sorts to announce all that his movie series would bring the full main cast, not just the originally teased three. At con, they would show off the first trailer on the main stage and have a panel, all of this a surprise announcement.

“I can’t wait to see their reactions to the new footage,” he said, his tone barely containing his enthusiasm as he fell in line next to Louisa. “The effects team really outdid themselves this time. The raw footage was only three days ago.”

“It’s going to blow them away. And the way the characters’ storylines intertwine in this installment? It’s pure magic. Magic, they’re all going to want a piece of when they realize the elusive fae warrior might be settling down.”

Julius grinned, his mind already racing with possibilities. “Auction off a date with me?”

Louisa snickered. “Have you met yourself? You’re the most charming man in the industry. That would end with a fan thinking she’s having your babies and destroy your image when you break her heart.”

Chuckling, he gave an innocent shrug. He was more than aware of how Hollywood saw him. The muscular good boy. The heroic champion of animal rights. The perpetual heartbreaker. And he was going to keep it that way. When he found a woman to spend his life with, she was going to fall into his lap without the promise of his fame in the way. He just wasn’t sure how to find her.

As they approached the studio gates, the distant murmur of chants became audible. They were already gathered, waiting for a glimpse of their favorite stars from the series.

“Rebecca,” he waved to his co-star when she spotted her walking with her agent from the lot’s small deli.

As always, Rebecca was absolutely stunning. She was every bit the princess she played. Her long black hair was curled and woven into tiny braids, decorated with crystals. Her elaborate emerald green costume caught the light and sparkling like a thousand stars. She was the embodiment of a fae warrior princess, every detail of her outfit carefully crafted to showcase her strength and courage. Even her famous scythe was attached to the hip of her leather trousers. A true showstopper fit to play a warrior princess.

“Julius,” Rebecca smirked, falling into line with him. “Do you think we could wow them anymore than we did last time?”

“Last time was a premier. I doubt we can impress them more, but what do you say we try?”

She smiled, giving him a subtle nod. Both agents stopped walking, knowing their place was behind the scenes and not in the limelight despite all the hard work they did.

Together, he and Rebecca climbed up the steps and out into the sunlight, ready to greet the waiting crowd. He made a show of entwining his hand with hers and lifting it into the air as they greeted the nearly rabid fans.

He took in the sea of faces before him, in the shrieks and cries for his and Rebecca’s attention. So many people, each with their own story, their own connection to the world he helped bring to life on screen.

He smiled, waving to the gathered fans. “Hey, everyone! Thanks for coming out today! I assure you, my princess, and I have no shortage of time to spend with our people.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and the usual swell of gratitude overcame him. This, he realized, was what it was all about. Not the fame, not the accolades, but the chance to make a difference in someone’s life, even if only for a moment.

As he began to make his way through the throng of fans, shaking hands and exchanging greetings, Julius knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

Last week there’d been a small altercation where he may have punched a man bothering Rebecca and her wife, but this would remind them all, they weren’t meeting Julius, they were meeting Alen Lorakian and Celaena Eilwenys.

A young woman stepped forward, her eyes shining with excitement as she held out a poster for him to sign. “Julius, I’m such a huge fan,” she gushed, her voice trembling slightly. “Your performance in ‘Realm of Shadows’ was incredible. It really inspired me to pursue my dreams.”

Julius took the poster, his smile widening as he met her gaze. It wasn’t often people came for his dramatic roles, but he would always appreciate them since it had been ages since he’d stepped away from fantasy flicks. “Thank you so much,” he said sincerely, scribbling his signature across the glossy surface. “That means the world to me. Never stop chasing your dreams, okay? You’ve got this.”

As he handed the poster back, the woman’s face lit up with joy. “Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the signed image to her chest. “I’ll never forget this moment.”

Rebecca stopped to hand a young girl a flower from her hair, and Julius couldn’t help but be grateful for the pairing they made. She was level-headed and often kept him from forgetting he was not the great warrior he’d played for almost ten years.

“Go, we don’t need to be together,” Rebecca winked as she signed another autograph.

He continued to make his way through the crowd, taking photos and signing autographs, each interaction a reminder that this wasn’t just a contract for him. Despite the long hours and the constant demands of his career, moments like these made it all worthwhile.

“Julius!” A young boy called out, waving enthusiastically. “Can I get a picture with you?”

“Of course!” Julius replied, his smile never wavering as he posed for the camera. “Thanks for being here, man. It’s an honor to meet you.”

As the fan showed him the photo, Julius couldn’t help a rush of humility. He knew that fame was fleeting, that success could be taken away as quickly as it was given. But the love and support of his fans? That was something he would never take for granted.

He scanned the crowd, his eyes lingering on each beaming face. Each one seemed to reflect the impact he had made on the world— a mix of admiration, respect, and gratitude shone in their eyes. It was humbling and overwhelming, a rush of emotions that threatened to bring tears to his own eyes. He couldn’t help but feel proud of what he had accomplished and grateful for all those who had supported him along the way. As he gazed out at the hundreds of smiling faces, he knew that his legacy would live on in their hearts and minds long after he walked away from this role.

With a final wave to the crowd, Julius turned back toward the studio, his heart full and his mind at peace. He knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them with the same dedication and passion that had brought him this far. And with the love and support of his fans behind him, anything was possible.

“Another day well done, Alen.” Rebecca teased as she tugged at the wig on her head when they were safely out of sight. “I will never want to wear these things. Ever.”

He chuckled, not entirely disagreeing with her. “I could say the same to you, Princess.”

“Yes, well, your fans would have something to say about it.” Rebecca sighed. “I’ve got to get food. I’ll catch you in a bit. I want to run that fight sequence one more time before we film in the freezing fields of Scotland next week.

“Afraid I’ll get the upper hand?”

“Keep dreaming!” She called with a wave.

As Julius made his way back to his trailer, he noticed a young girl standing off to the side, clutching a worn-out DVD case. Her eyes widened as she saw him approach, and she seemed to shrink back, as if trying to disappear into the wall behind her.

Julius stopped in his tracks, his heart melting at the sight of the nervous fan. “Hey there,” he said softly, crouching down to meet her at eye level. “What’s your name?”

“L-Laura,” the girl stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Laura,” Julius replied, his smile warm and inviting. “Is that one of my movies you’ve got there?” He wasn’t certain how she’d gotten here, but she was probably someone’s child from set to be back here.

Laura nodded, holding out the DVD case with trembling hands. “It’s my favorite,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the workings of the studio lot.

Julius took the case, running his fingers over the faded cover. “You know, this was one of the first movies I ever did,” he said, his eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “I remember being so nervous on set, worried that I would mess everything up.”

Laura’s eyes widened in surprise. “You? Nervous?”

Julius chuckled, handing the DVD back to her. “Believe it or not, even actors get scared sometimes. But you know what helps me when I’m feeling nervous?”

Laura shook her head, hanging on his every word.

“I remind myself that everyone feels that way sometimes, and that it’s okay to be scared. The important thing is to keep going, even when it’s hard.”

She nodded, her brown hair bouncing as she did, and a small smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Mr. Theon,” she said, her voice a little stronger now. “That means a lot to me.”

Julius stood up, careful not to touch her without her consent. “Thank you for being such a dedicated fan, Laura. It’s people like you who make all of this worthwhile.”

“May I…could I give you a hug?” She kept her gaze down, but her voice did not waver.

“I would love it.” He leaned down and made certain she wrapped her arms around him before tugging her in for a gentle hug.

“Thank you!” She beamed, pulling away and turning with a skip.

He watched her walk away, clutching her DVD case to her chest like a precious treasure. Gratitude wasn’t a large enough emotion for what he experienced any time he met with fans. He had always known that his work had the power to touch people’s lives, but moments like these reminded him just how much of an impact he could have.

Lost in thought, Julius made his way back to his trailer, the events of the day playing over in his mind. The excitement of the upcoming convention, the thrill of discussing his craft with his co-star, the joy of connecting with his fans—it all blended together in a kaleidoscope of emotions that left him feeling both exhilarated and humbled.

As he sat down on the couch, his gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was just beginning to set over the studio lot. Julius couldn’t help but wonder what the future held. He had achieved so much in his career, had touched so many lives through his work on the big screen. But was there something more out there, waiting for him?

The thought of a relationship, of finding someone to share his life with, had always seemed like a distant dream. But now, with the love and support of his fans behind him, Julius couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, what came next wasn’t another role or another movie, but a chance at something real, something lasting.

And with a little luck, maybe he would find the love missing from his life, because he had everything else.