My Billionaire Boyfriend Went Mad After I Left

---- 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. Tlooked down at the man kneeling at my feet, and my heart was as calm as a stagnant pond. No anger, no heartache, not even a flicker of vengeful pleasure.

'There was only disgust-the kind you feel when you step on chewing gum. "Let go." ---- 'My voice was colder than the foreign air. Julian didn't let go; he gripped harder, his knuckles turning white from the strain. "I won't! Elara, I know you hate me. I know I was a bastard." "But please, listen to me... was blinded! Seraphina tricked me!" He spilled his guts like a drowning man clutching at a straw. "I really loved you those three years! I was just stupid, I thought you were getting revenge...

I didn't know she was faking paralysis, I didn't know your emails were blocked..." "If [knew your father was critical, 1 would have spent every dime I had to save him! How could I bear to see you suffer?" "Elara, give me a chance to atone, okay? I can give you all the Thorne Group shares. I can give you my life. What moving lines. A year ago, I might have been touched, or I might have screamed and slapped him like a crazy woman, asking why he drove my father to his death. But now, seeing him sniveling like this, I just found it loud, Like a fly buzzing in my ear. Explanations? Atonement?

Affection that comes too late is cheaper than dirt. Did he think kneeling and crying could bring back the dead? Could it glue a shattered soul back together? Too naive. And too selfish. I didn't say another word to him. ---- I calmly took my phone out of my pocket, keeping a poker face as I dialed the number I'd memorized long ago-17. "Bonjour. Is this the police?" T spoke in fluent French, my tone as calm as if I were ordering takeout. "| want to report an incident. Location: 'Renaissance! flower shop in Gordes." "There is a mentally unstable pervert here.

He is sexually harassing me and threatening my safety." "Yes, I'm terrified. Please come immediately." Hearing the word "police," Julian froze. He looked at me in disbelief, his hand holding my skirt stiffening in mid-air. "Elara... you're calling the cops on me? I'm Julian... I'm your husband..." Thung up the phone and looked down at him, my eyes devoid of any light "Sir, have some self-respect." "My husband died a long time ago.

He died on that rainy night last year." "The thing kneeling here now is just a disgusting stalker." Less than five minutes later, two police cars screamed to a halt. Several burly French gendarmes jumped out, roughly pulled Julian off me, twisted his arms behind his back, and slapped on the cold handcuffs. ---- "Let go of me! I'm the CEO of the Thorne Group! You can't arrest me! Julian struggled, but his emaciated body was no match for the gendarmes. He was forcibly shoved into the patrol car. He pressed his face against the window, his features twisted in despair. "Elara! Tell them who I am!

Tell them we know each other!" "T'm not leaving! I'd rather die than leave!" An officer looked at me and asked politely, "Madame, do you know this man?" I stood at the door of the flower shop, brushing the wrinkles out of my skirt where he had grabbed it, as if dusting off filth. 'Then, 1 looked up and gave a polite, distant smile. "I've never seen this piece of trash before." 'The police cars sped away, taking the man who used to command the wind and rain in New York. The crowd gradually dispersed. I turned around, picked up the broom, and swept the trampled white hyacinths into the dustbin.

*Ding-a-ling-* The wind chimes rang softly. Twent back inside, poured myself a glass of warm water, and continued trimming the unfinished hydrangeas. My hands were steady. My heart was quiet. ---- It was as if what 1 had just thrown away really was nothing more than a piece of meaningless trash.