Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Don’t say nothing happened.”
“But that didn’t happen.” He lifted his chin and looked at me again. “I’m not dismissing what you went through…but I stopped the worst of it. I protected you exactly as I promised—and I will protect you better once you’re under my roof.”
Being with the love of my life wasn’t an equal trade-off, not for the risk. “You’re a very powerful man, Bartholomew. During our time together, I’ve come to appreciate just how majestic that power really is. But when you’re at the top, all eyes are on you. I’m your one and only weakness—and I’ll live the rest of my life with a target on my back.”
His stare had hardened again, all his walls up.
“I can’t do it.” I’d be scared every single day, wondering when it would happen, not if.
A heavy silence filled the dead space between us. Bartholomew was mute, lacking an argument to combat the truth of my words. He eventually looked away, his eyes on the window that showed the buildings across the street. It stayed that way for a long time—the two of us accepting the end of our relationship.
“Unless…”
After a beat, he looked at me again.
“Unless…you walked away from it all.”
His breaths were slow and steady, his eyes hard as concrete.
If he were willing to do it, he would have suggested it on his own. I knew his answer before he gave it, but a part of me irrationally hoped he would make a different choice if I asked.
Then his eyes dropped—and that was the end of it.
How could that answer hurt so much when I already knew it was coming? How could the expected catch me by surprise? How could I…feel so broken? “It’s always been my dream to have a family…to replace what I lost, but I was willing to give that up for you. But you aren’t willing to make an equal sacrifice for me.” I said the words slowly, talking myself through the horrible realization.
He kept his eyes down—like a coward.
“Goodbye, Bartholomew.”
When I entered my apartment, I felt sick to my stomach, and not just because I’d lost the love of my life. Painful memories washed over me, the echoes of my screams, flashbacks from a horror movie.
I looked at the pile of boxes I’d have to unpack.
But I didn’t have the energy.
I walked into my bedroom, seeing the remains of that moment, pee stains on the sheets.
I shut the door and walked to the couch—and went straight to sleep.
I did that on and off for days, never unpacking, never stepping into that bedroom. I raided the cabinets in search of food during the rare times I had an appetite. Life passed with painstaking slowness. There wasn’t anything to look forward to in life—except feeling better.
A knock sounded on the door.
I didn’t expect it to be Bartholomew. He would never change his mind—not now, not ever—because nothing was more important than his power and money.
Not even me.
I looked through the peephole and saw a man I didn’t know. I decided not to answer it.
“Bartholomew sent me.” He must have seen my shadow under the door or heard my breaths. “Wanted me to give you something.”
I opened the door and came face-to-face with the messenger, not caring that I looked like hell with unwashed hair and old clothes.
He gave me a large envelope, the kind that contained full-page documents. I took it from him and opened it at the kitchen counter.
A set of keys fell out.
The envelope held a bunch of documents—and I quickly realized it was a deed to property in my name.
I read the note he’d included.
Laura,
You deserve a better apartment. You deserve a better family. You deserve a better man than me. Start a new life. Fall in love with a good man. Have a family. Have everything that I’m unable to give you—and forget about me.
The address was written below his signature.
I read his letter again, and it hurt as much the second time as the first. When we’d broken up the first time, I’d always believed there was a chance we would get back together. My heart still beat for him, hoping, dreaming…
But not this time.
This time…it was really over.
It was an apartment I could never afford, not if I worked thirty years and saved every single cent. It was in a prime location in Paris, with a doorman out front, a private parking garage, and it was two stories with at least three thousand square feet. And it was fully furnished, with chic decorations and high-end furniture.
The place had to be worth five million…at least.
In the note, he’d explained the property taxes would be covered indefinitely, so I never had to worry about a bill I wouldn’t be able to pay.
I shouldn’t accept such a ridiculous gift, but I couldn’t live in my old apartment anymore. I couldn’t sleep on the couch and keep the bedroom door closed. I couldn’t be haunted by the horrible things that had happened there…and the good things too.