Chapter 14: Leaving the Mansion

The decision crystallized over the next ten days—quiet conversations in stolen moments, late-night texts when the house slept, apartment listings pulled up on separate screens in separate rooms. Julian found a place first: a two-bedroom loft in the Crossroads district—exposed brick, tall windows, walking distance from Sophia’s favorite coffee shop and the galleries she still pretended to believe would one day call her back. Separate leases. Separate names on the mailboxes. Close enough to share walls if they wanted; far enough to pretend independence if anyone asked.

They didn’t tell the parents right away.

Instead, they played the long game.

Sophia started “working late” on freelance projects—leaving the house after dinner with her laptop bag, returning after midnight smelling faintly of espresso and city air. Julian “took on more client calls”—disappearing to co-working spaces downtown, coming back with takeout containers and the faint scent of urban exhaust. The parents noticed the absences but didn’t press. Not yet.

The nights grew quieter in the mansion. They stopped risking the house—too many close calls, too many lingering glances from their mother. Instead they met downtown: hotel rooms booked under fake names, backseats of rental cars in empty parking garages, once even the rooftop of a friend’s empty loft after Riley slipped them the key. Each encounter was slower now—less frantic, more deliberate. No degradation. No taunts tied to childhood. Just bodies moving together, eyes locked, hands clasped, quiet gasps swallowed against skin.