Chapter 6
1059words
My internal clock jolts me from a chaotic slumber.
My first awareness is of the emptiness and coldness beside me.
The body that trembled softly in my arms is gone. Only a trace of her sweet fragrance remains in the air, mingled with alcohol and tears—like a cruel reminder of a dream already ended.
A cold, unfamiliar panic grips my heart like a venomous snake.
I sit up abruptly.
Last night's wild, uncontrolled passion floods my mind like a tsunami. I remember tearing off her dress, claiming her body, listening to her broken cries that mingled pain and ultimate pleasure…
What have I done?
I broke her.
This thought chills me to the bone.
I was a beast. A beast caged for ten years that, once released, savaged its most treasured prize, leaving it wounded and broken.
она убежала (she ran away). She will never come back.
The color drains from my face. I sit paralyzed, unable to move, seeing evidence of last night's frenzy everywhere—the torn champagne-colored silk at the foot of the bed, the tangled sheets, the lingering scent of passion… Each detail like a needle stabbing at my conscience.
Just then, something tiny catches my eye on the carpet, gleaming softly.
I walk over, bend down, and pick it up.
A pearl earring.
I recognize it immediately. The coming-of-age gift Mr. Carter gave her on her eighteenth birthday. I remember that day—she wore these earrings with her white gown, moving through the crowd like an immaculate rose. Then she approached me, gathered all her courage, and confessed her feelings.
And I, for the sake of my ridiculous pride, crushed that rose with my own hands.
I thought that was my greatest mistake. But now I realize that last night, I committed an even greater, more unforgivable sin.
I clutch the small, cold pearl tightly in my palm. I'm sorry, Chloe, I whisper to myself. Three hollow, utterly useless words.
For the next three days, I don't go looking for her.
It's not that I don't want to—I don't dare. I have no right.
Before she can forgive me, I must first clear away all obstacles and threats from her path.
I transform into the cold-hearted emperor of Blake Group. I remain on the top floor of my office building nearly twenty-four hours a day, making call after call, issuing directive after directive.
"Investigate Daniel Reed's company—all project flows and financial transactions for the past three years. Don't miss even a single decimal point."
"Activate all media resources. I want to know about every one of Leo Carter's 'social' activities at the university, especially those that can't bear scrutiny."
"Have the Hamilton legal team standing by. I want the most airtight divorce agreement possible, with Daniel Reed walking away with nothing."
This is all I can do for her now. Use my power to provide silent protection.
On the third afternoon, Father's call comes through.
"Julian," his voice full of concern, "I don't know what's wrong with Chloe. She's locked herself in her room, barely eating or drinking. You two have always been closest, and she only listens to you. Come home for dinner tonight. As her brother, help her open up. You always know how to make her smile."
"Brother"… "Help her open up"… "Make her smile"…
Each word hits my heart like a hammer. I feel like a shameless fraud. Smile? I just made her cry all night long. Father, you don't know that your most trusted "son" is a complete hypocrite.
The immense pain and guilt make it almost impossible to speak.
"…Alright," I finally answer, my voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll come home tonight."
After hanging up, I take out the pearl earring from my pocket—now warmed by my body heat—and clutch it tightly.
Chloe, I'm sorry.
But I'm here. Time to face my judgment.
After dinner, Chloe sat numbly in her room, losing track of time until a gentle knock sounded at her door.
She assumed it was Martha the maid with milk and said listlessly: "I don't want any milk."
There was no response, but the knocking persisted, three more gentle taps.
Chloe impatiently got up and yanked the door open, ready to snap—but froze the moment she saw who stood outside.
It was Julian.
He wore a simple black turtleneck cashmere sweater, standing there quietly. His face showed no expression, but those unfathomably deep eyes were like a heavy ocean before a storm, churning with emotions she couldn't begin to decipher.
Chloe's heart contracted as if gripped by an invisible hand. She instinctively moved to close the door.
Julian reached out first, blocking the door with his hand.
He didn't speak. He simply opened his palm slowly before her.
In his palm lay a pearl earring. The one she'd left behind at the hotel.
This sight, like the cruelest trigger, instantly pulled her back to that unbearable night. Shame, anger, and humiliation surged within her.
What was he here for? To flaunt his trophy? Or to remind her how wanton she'd been beneath him? The thought instantly brought tears to her eyes.
She reached out, her fingertips trembling slightly with anger. She didn't want to touch his skin—only to quickly snatch the earring away, as if retrieving something contaminated.
Her fingertips finally touched the cold, smooth surface of the pearl.
At that very moment.
With a soft "snap," Julian suddenly closed his palm.
Chloe's hand, along with the cold pearl, was firmly and inescapably trapped in his burning hot palm.
"You…!" She looked up in panic, trying to pull away, but his grip was like a red-hot iron clamp, holding her firmly in place.
What was he trying to do?
Why was he looking at her like that?
He just stared at her, his eyes showing none of the desire from that night, nor the mockery she'd expected. Instead, they churned with something incomprehensible. Remorse, pain, and a kind of… indescribable, almost desperate longing.
Chloe was utterly confused.
Why? Why did he have that look in his eyes? Why did he seem to be suffering more than she was?
He looked at her as if gazing at a priceless treasure he had shattered with his own hands, with no idea how to piece it back together. That gaze seemed to say…
Why don't you understand?
