The Mountain Highway That Took My Love and Child Chapter 08

The Mountain Highway That Took My Love and Child Chapter 08

Julian was a hollow shell of himself when he left the police station.

He spent the next few days slumped in isolation, refusing food and water.

Then, a manic, desperate idea took hold.

He staggered into a bar, ordering a table full of drinks.

He downed bottle after bottle, forcing cheap vodka and whiskey down his throat.

He drank until his stomach bled, coughing up dark, streaked blood.

Slurring and stumbling, he forced his assistant to prop him up and drive him to the same unlicensed strip-mall medspa where he’d once dragged Lena.

The place was dimly lit, lacking even basic hygienic equipment.

“Carve it into my skin,” Julian rasped. “The pattern from the custom Tiffany ring I designed for Lena.”

“No anesthesia. I want to feel the pain—I want to hurt so badly that I’ll never forget her.”

He burned with a raging fever for the three days. The jagged, amateur tattoo on his skin became severely infected, oozing pus.

But the moment the fever broke, Julian wasn’t finished.

He ordered his private security to bind his hands and feet and tie him securely to the seat.

Then, he had them lock him inside a car on autopilot.

The assistant looked at Julian’s bloodshot eyes, swallowed hard, and finally asked.

“Mr. Sterling, are you sure? The team is terrified of taking the fall.”

Julian gave a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t worry—the liability waiver is signed. If I die, none of you will be held liable.”

“I just want to feel what Lena felt in her final moments. I need to know if she was scared…”

“Compared to what I did to her, this is nothing.”

The engine roared to life. The speed locked at 125 mph.

Tied down with thick rope, Julian stared blankly out the window as the trees whipped past in a dark blur.

Lena—was your heart beating as fast as mine now?

You were always so fragile, yet I forced you to bear all my rage and survive this nightmare.

The supercar hurtled forward, whipping around the treacherous curves of Dead Man’s Curve lap after lap.

Several times, the front bumper grazed the jagged stone walls, sending sparks flying into the night.

Julian leaned back against the headrest, utterly numb.

He watched himself brush against death, again and again.

As his consciousness faded, the memory of his first proposal to Lena surfaced.

He was only nineteen. Lena wore a pristine white dress, shyly holding his hand.

He had taken her for a drive in his sports car, bought her a simple bouquet, and it made her incredibly happy.

The wind whipped through the open top, lifting her long black hair and the hem of her white dress.

The rose petals she held were swept away by the breeze, drifting down into the valley.

Under the crimson sunset, Lena leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips—the moment they pledged their lives to each other.

As golden light flooded the valley, he pulled her close and smiled.

“Lena, baby, I’ll protect you forever. Will you marry me?”

It was an impulsive trip. He hadn’t even bought a ring, so he hastily fashioned a crude band from a rose stem.

Yet Lena’s eyes shone like stars.

“I do,” she whispered. “If it’s you, I’ll always say yes.”

“I do…”

Crash!

The tires screeched. The supercar roared as it flipped off the cliff and tumbled into the deep ravine.

A dark, sticky red flooded Julian’s vision.

Through the thick stench of burning gasoline, his eyelids grew heavy.

In the haze, he saw a figure approaching.

Julian struggled to raise a hand.

“Lena… did you come to take me home?”