He Canceled My Ticket for Her Again, So I Bought My Way Home Chapter 09

He Canceled My Ticket for Her Again, So I Bought My Way Home Chapter 09

After Julian was discharged from the hospital following a severe bout of pneumonia, he came back again.

He looked worse than before.

His skin was pale, almost sickly. He’d lost even more weight, his sharp features more pronounced than ever.

But the obsession in his eyes had only deepened.

This time, he didn’t just stand quietly outside and watch from a distance.

He started finding ways to work himself back into my life.

My father’s favorite hobby was tending the small greenhouse he’d built in our backyard. He grew organic vegetables, herbs, and fruit there. Whatever our family couldn’t use, he usually gave away to neighbors.

Somehow, Julian found out about it.

And then he did something none of us expected.

Using his connections and technical expertise, he built an online marketplace for my dad’s little garden. He secured delivery partnerships with several upscale residential communities and created a complete sales system from scratch.

He designed the website himself.

He hired a professional photographer for promotional photos,

He even negotiated logistics contracts.

Within a matter of weeks, my father’s modest greenhouse had become surprisingly popular online ¡under the name:

“Mr. Winslow’s Organic Garden.”

Orders poured in every day.

My dad was busier than ever, and for the first time in a long while, I saw him smiling constantly.

One evening during dinner, my father hesitated before speaking.

“Clara… Julian came to see me today.”

The knife in my hand paused over my steak.

Dad glanced at me carefully.

“He didn’t ask for anything. He transferred all the profits from the online business to me.

I said nothing.

“He told me those earnings belonged to you. Said it was money he owed you. He said he knew he’d been a terrible husband. That he wasn’t doing this to earn forgiveness. He just wanted to do something for you.”

Dad cleared his throat.

“I sent the money back. Did I do the right thing?”

I nodded immediately.

“Yes.”

“We don’t owe him anything. And we don’t need compensation from him.”

But Julian didn’t stop.

A few weeks later, my fragrance studio became the target of an online smear campaign. Hundreds of fake accounts flooded our pages with negative reviews.

I hadn’t even figured out how to handle it before the problem vanished overnight.

Every fake review disappeared.

And when I checked the backend system, I discovered a sophisticated cybersecurity protection program had been installed.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me who was responsible.

Then there was the dessert shop.

The tiny bakery I’d loved growing up had been on the verge of bankruptcy.

Years ago, I’d casually mentioned to Julian how much I missed their cinnamon rolls and homemade pies.

Somehow, he’d remembered.

He invested in the business and saved it from closing.

Just because of one offhand comment I’d made years ago.

Every single thing he did was carefully calculated.

inside lay a necklace.

Not diamonds.

Not gemstones.

Just a simple dreamcatcher pendant made of polished silver and hand-carved wood, hanging from

a braided leather cord.

The moment I saw it, something stabbed deep into my chest.

I recognized it instantly.

For my eighteenth birthday, I’d begged Grandma to make it for me by hand.

She’d carved every piece herself.

Woven every thread herself.

I’d worn it every day afterward.

Until I got married.

Julian’s mother had looked at it with disgust.

She’d said it looked like something bought at a flea market for a few cents.

Cheap.

Embarrassing.

Unworthy of the family name.

She’d pressured me into taking it off.

Later, during one of our moves, it disappeared.

I’d spent months looking for it.

And never found it.