POV: Isabella “Izzy” Virelli
The third floor of the library was usually deserted except for the most dedicated students, making it perfect for conversations that required privacy. I found Julian in the European History section, leaning against the stacks with his usual air of casual elegance. He was reading what looked like a leather-bound first edition, his fingers tracing the pages with surprising delicacy.
“Ah, Isabella,” he said without looking up. “Right on time.”
“What do you want, Julian?”
“To offer my services, of course.” He closed the book and fixed me with those calculating hazel eyes. “I assume you’ve seen this morning’s... entertainment?”
“The doctored photo? Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“Doctored,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Interesting that you noticed. Most people would accep
