Chapter 11

Rain poured down in sheets as a soaked Julian Thorne returned to the Long Island manor.Seraphina was still wearing that white engagement dress, pacing anxiously in the living room. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she threw herself at him."Julian! You're finally back! I knew you loved me. Elara left, so what...""Get lost."Julian's voice was colder than the biting wind. He didn't hit her; he just sidestepped in disgust, letting Seraphina lunge into empty air and crash awkwardly onto the carpet."Julian..." Seraphina lay on the floor, looking up at the scarlet murderous intent in his eyes. For the first time, she felt a bone-deep terror. "Listen to me, about that video...""Explain?"Julian looked down at her, a cruel curve twisting his lips."Do you really need to explain? The head of orthopedics at St. Luke's has already confessed everything. Your legs healed three years ago.""Since they're healed, why are you still in a wheelchair?"He suddenly bent down, grabbed Seraphina's

Chapter 12

Gordes, Provence. It is the crown jewel of southern France, a place defined by rolling fields of lavender and sunshine so bright it almost blinds you.I run a small flower shop here called "Renaissance.""Miss Vance, here are your meds for the week." Dr. Laurent, the town psychiatrist, handed me two brown pill bottles, his eyes filled with that uniquely French blend of concern and worry.I took the bottles, practicedly tucking them into my trench coat pocket, and thanked him in fluent French.It’s been a year. A whole year since that earth-shattering farce in New York.I changed my name, cut off all contact with my past, and even switched my phone number to a local one."How have you been feeling? Are the panic attacks still frequent?" Dr. Laurent asked.I pursed my lips, watching a white dove fly past the window, and spoke softly. "I'm better. At least during the day, I can function like a normal person. But at night... it's still impossible."I subconsciously touched the jagged scar

Chapter 13

He didn't walk away like I expected.After taking just a few steps, the man snapped. He spun around and stormed back like a madman.The white hyacinths dropped to the ground, crushed into pulp under his expensive leather shoes. Right there on the bustling streets of Gordes, under the shocked gazes of countless tourists, the noble Julian Thorne dropped.*Thud.*He fell heavily to his knees right in front of me.The sound of bone hitting cobblestone was dull and sickeningly clear. It sounded painful. But he seemed to feel nothing.He gripped the hem of my dirt-stained apron tight, tilting his head back to look up at me. Those eyes, once sharp as a hawk's, were now filled with broken tears and pathetic begging."Elara... don't chase me away.""Let me watch you from a distance. Let me be your dog, I don't care. Just don't make me leave..."People started pointing; some even pulled out their phones to record.I looked down at the man kneeling at my feet, and my heart was as calm as a stagna

Chapter 14

There was no prison time, of course. Money is a universal passport. Twenty-four hours later, Julian was bailed out by a shark-tank of lawyers flown in overnight from New York.I thought he would take the hint and crawl back to Wall Street.I was wrong.On the morning of the third day, I opened the shop to find the long-abandoned bakery across the street sporting a "SOLD" sign.A man in rough work clothes and a cap was clumsily sweeping autumn leaves and vomit left by last night's drunks off the cobblestones.It was Julian.Gone was the bespoke suit that symbolized his power and status. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing blue veins on his arms and fresh scratches—souvenirs from being pinned to the ground by the police yesterday.When he saw me come out, his hand froze on the broom handle. He instinctively wanted to hide, but then he forced himself to stop.He didn't speak. He just looked at me greedily for a second, then lowered his head and continued silently sweeping the cobbleston

Chapter 15

It rarely snows during winter in Provence, but this Christmas Eve, heavy goose-feather flakes were falling over the town of Gordes.I thought a profit-driven Wall Street capitalist like Julian Thorne would waste a week here at most. After all, he had a multi-billion dollar empire waiting in New York. The old fossils on the board were probably already frothing at the mouth over his "dereliction of duty."But I underestimated his obsession. For a whole month, he lived in that dilapidated bakery, guarding me like an ascetic monk.Every morning, there were fresh flowers with dew still on them, expensive supplements, and priceless jewelry at my door... all of which I tossed into the recycling bin like trash. Yet he seemed to enjoy it, treating the fact that I hadn't called the police again as some great mercy.*Cough, cough...*I heard suppressed coughing outside, mixed with the frantic voice of his assistant leaking from his phone."Mr. Thorne, you have to come back to New York! Because yo

Chapter 16

Two years later. Provence, Église Notre-Dame.May in the south of France. The scent of lavender mixed with the old sandalwood of the church, fermenting in the sunlight into the smell of happiness.The organ blasted the "Wedding March."I wore a simple satin gown, holding a bouquet of freshly picked white lilies of the valley. I took Gabriel's arm and walked slowly down the aisle scattered with rose petals.Gabriel was my doctor. He was also the gentlest man alive. During the days when PTSD tormented me until I couldn't even breathe on my own, he stayed by my side day and night, using patience and love to piece the shattered fragments of me back together.His hands were warm and dry—unlike Julian's, which always carried a suffocating desire for control. Beside him, I finally learned what it meant to feel "safe.""I do."When the priest asked that sacred question, I looked into Gabriel's clear blue eyes and gave my promise with absolute certainty.The moment we exchanged rings, I felt a