Chapter 9 9

Harper couldn't sleep. The adrenaline from the encounter with Julian was still coursing through her veins. She needed to calm down.

She picked up her phone. She needed to shift the dynamic. To take it back to the intellectual ground where she felt safe.

"Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us." she texted him. Just a reminder that chasing shiny things usually ends in a pool with a bullet in your back.

She hit send. It was a jab at his wealth. At his world.

Julian replied instantly.

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." You're focusing on the death. I'm focusing on the resilience.

Harper smiled. He knew the text.

Resilience or delusion? she typed back.

Depends on the outcome, he replied. Have you read 'The Titan' by Dreiser?

No.

It's about a man who conquers Chicago. You'd like him. He's ruthless.

Sounds like someone I know, Harper teased.

I'll send it to you.

It's out of print, Harper texted. She knew this because she had looked for it in college.

I know, Julian replied.

An hour later, there was a knock on her door.

Harper looked through the peephole. It wasn't a courier; it was Julian's driver, the one from earlier.

She opened the door. He held out a package wrapped in brown paper.

"Mr. Sterling thought you might want some light reading for the night," the driver said respectfully.

Harper took the package. "Thank you."

She sat on her bed and opened it. Inside was a hardcover book. The cloth cover was worn, the gold lettering faded. The Titan. First edition. Signed.

She opened the cover. There was no bookplate, but the margins were filled with notes in fountain pen. The handwriting was sharp, angular. Julian's.

She ran her fingers over the ink. He hadn't just bought this; he had read it. He was sharing his mind with her.

A note fell out.

Knowledge is the only fair playing field. - J

Harper felt a lump in her throat. This was worth thousands. And he had just... sent it. Like it was a pizza.

Her phone rang. It was the intake coordinator at NY Presbyterian.

"Miss Sinclair? We've received the transfer authorization from Mr. Sterling's office. The medical transport team has just landed at the helipad with your grandmother. We are admitting her to the cardiac ICU immediately."

Harper gasped. "She's there? Already?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Sterling arranged for the medevac. Dr. Collins will see her in the morning."

Harper hung up, her hand shaking. He had moved mountains while she was arguing about dresses.

She immediately called Eleanor.

"Mom! They're in. Julian... he got them in."

"Harper..." Eleanor sounded terrified. "How? Who is this man?"

"I made it happen," Harper said firmly. "He's just a contact, Mom. A means to an end."

She hung up. She looked at the book on her lap. She turned the page.

She felt a strange mixture of gratitude and fear. She was in his debt now. Deeply.

She placed the book on her nightstand. It felt like a talisman.

She lay down, pulling the duvet up to her chin. For the first time in weeks, the knot of anxiety in her chest loosened.

She fell asleep and dreamt of green lights and grey eyes.