"Stop it, Mom," Julian said, stepping between them.
"No, I will not stop!" Miriam's voice rose, drawing the attention of passing pedestrians. The street was lined with glowing shop windows and expensive restaurants, the pavement slick from an earlier drizzle. "You are ruining your life! You work at the most powerful company in this city, and you are throwing away your potential to play house with a penniless nobody!"
"She is not a nobody!" Julian shouted, his voice cracking with exhaustion and rage. "She is the woman I am going to marry!"
The words hung in the crisp evening air.
Eleanor froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. He had never said that before. He was willing to marry her—penniless, ordinary, struggling Jane. He was willing to take on the world for her.
Miriam let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Marry her? With what ring? On what salary? You think love is going to keep you warm when you're evicted? You think love matters in the real world?" She stepped closer to Eleanor, her eyes blazing with absolute venom. "You are a parasite. If you actually cared about him, you would walk away and let him make something of himself."
A crowd had begun to gather, drawn by the spectacle of the shouting match. People murmured, casting pitying or judgmental glances at the trio. Julian reached for Eleanor’s hand, his fingers trembling but his grip firm.
"Let's go, Jane," he said quietly. "We don't need to listen to this."
But Eleanor didn't move.
She looked at Julian, seeing the deep lines of fatigue on his face, the fierce, protective love in his eyes. He had passed the test. He had stood by her in the face of ruin, in the face of familial rejection. He had chosen her.
Now, it was her turn to choose him.
She slipped her hand out of his. Julian looked at her in panic, thinking she was giving in to his mother's demands. But Eleanor wasn't retreating. She reached into the pocket of her cheap denim jacket and pulled out a sleek, heavy smartphone—a model not available to the general public.
She hit a single button.
"What are you doing?" Miriam sneered. "Calling a cab? Let me give you the fare, you clearly need it."
Eleanor didn't look at her. She kept her eyes locked on Julian. Her posture shifted. The slight slump of her shoulders, the demure tilt of her head—the disguise of "Jane"—melted away in an instant. She stood taller, the light from the streetlamps catching the sudden, terrifying sharpness in her eyes.