The next morning, the domestic peace was shattered.
While Elara was practicing in the studio, Julian's phone buzzed incessantly. It was his agent, Marcus.
"Julian, someone is asking questions," Marcus whispered over the line. "A private investigator was at the gallery today. He had a photo of a girl. Dark curls, hazel eyes. He asked if you've seen her."
Julian's blood went cold. He looked through the glass door at Elara. She was lost in her music, her eyes closed, looking radiant in the morning light.
"What did you tell him?" Julian asked, his voice a low growl.
"I told him I only deal with canvases, not runaways. But Julian, if you're hiding someone, you're playing with fire. Whoever is looking for her has a lot of money and very little patience."
Julian hung up and walked into the studio. He didn't say a word. He just walked up to Elara and took the violin from her hands, setting it carefully on the stand.
"What are you doing?" she asked, startled.
"We're going out," Julian said. "You need a new look. If someone is looking for a girl in a yellow cardigan with a violin case, we're going to give them a high-fashion enigma instead."
He took her to the most exclusive boutique in the city, ignoring her protests. He picked out silks, leathers, and deep emerald velvets.
"I don't belong in these clothes," Elara hissed in the dressing room.
"You belong wherever you decide to stand," Julian replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Stop trying to be invisible, Elara. You were born to be a masterpiece."
As she stepped out in a dark green silk slip dress that made her eyes glow like moss, Julian felt his breath hitch. He wasn't just chasing a muse anymore. He was falling for a ghost.
But as they left the boutique, Julian noticed a black sedan parked across the street. The windows were tinted. It didn't move.
The hunt had begun.