He Ordered My Torture, Then Said I Love You Chapter 10

He Ordered My Torture, Then Said I Love You Chapter 10

Five years later. 

I stood at center stage in a red gown. The applause was deafening, rolling through the hall. 

When I came offstage, Julian was waiting in the wings with a huge bouquet of sunflowers. 

“There she is,” he said, beaming. “The star of the show. You 

nailed it.” 

“Thank you, Julian.” 

I took the flowers and breathed them in. 

“Oh. Someone dropped this off for you. Probably one of your 

admirers.” 

Julian handed me a small wooden box, beautifully made. I 

opened it, curious. 

Inside lay my mother’s emerald bracelet, restored. The broken pieces had been mended with delicate gold seams, using a traditional restoration technique. 

At the bottom of the box was a card. The handwriting wobbled, 

but I recognized it instantly. 

[I’m sorry.] 

My fingers trembled. 

Julian’s hand flew up to cover my eyes. “Don’t look.” 

“It’s okay, Julian.” 

I’d heard things over the years. He’d been a model prisoner and got out early. He’d learned antique restoration inside. 

He’d been donating to orphanages ever since. 

I lifted the bracelet and traced the gold seams with my fingertip. All those years I’d searched for it, and he’d had it the 

whole time. 

After a moment, I smiled. I tucked the bracelet into my bag, 

then tossed the card into the nearest trash can. 

“What are you thinking?” Julian asked, watching me closely. 

I turned to the window, gazing out at the snow blanketing 

everything in white. 

“Nothing. It’s time to move on.‘ 

“I want to see the ocean.” 

Julian let out a breath of relief. 

“When you’re ready, we’ll go. Forget just the ocean. I’ll take 

you around the whole world if that’s what you want.” 

“I’d like that,” I said. 

I linked my arm through his, and we walked out together. 

“So, Julian, what are we eating tonight? I’m in the mood for 

steak.” 

“Whatever you want.” 

We stepped through the main doors, and the winter sun greeted us, warm and too bright. 

Across the street, half–hidden in the shadows, a man in a threadbare coat stood watching. A single glove covered his 

right hand. 

His hair had gone gray, and he stood with the hunched posture 

of a man aged far beyond his years. 

When he saw me smile, something in him seemed to ease. His eyes glossed over, and he managed a broken smile of his own. 

Then he pulled up his collar and disappeared into the crowd. 

We walked in opposite directions, and we never crossed again. 

I didn’t look back. 

The road ahead stretched out, long and bright. For the rest of 

my life, I would live for no one but me. 

-The End-