Chapter 2

When Julian rushed into my wedding venue, he still had that same arrogant, self-assured look on his face from five years ago.

"Nora, haven't you made your point by now?"

He wasn’t asking a question. He was making a statement.

He scanned the crowd of guests, a careless, dismissive smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"You can still call this off. It's not too late. I can pretend none of this ever happened."

Ethan Vance’s hand had been resting gently on my waist, but when he heard those words, he let go.

He took half a step back, giving me a full step of space to handle this.

I lifted my veil and looked straight into Julian’s eyes.

"What did you just say? Say it again."

Julian stood there with one hand stuffed casually into his suit pocket, his chin tilted slightly upward. He was confident to the point of arrogance.

"I said, you’ve been throwing this tantrum for five years. That’s enough. Come home."

He emphasized the word "home," as if those four letters alone were enough to make me bow my head.

I laughed.

I raised my left hand, flashing the diamond ring on my ring finger right in his face.

Julian’s gaze locked onto the ring, but the smirk on his face didn't fade immediately.

"You're actually going through with this?"

His voice went up an octave.

"Nora, just to get back at me, you’d go this far?"

I ripped the veil off my head, letting the white lace drift lazily to the ground by my feet.

"Five years. More than eighteen hundred days. Do you really think I have the time and energy to play games with you?"

Julian’s Adam's apple bobbed.

He stared into my eyes, then at Ethan, before finally letting his gaze drop back to my face.

"Isn’t this all because you wanted me to beg? Fine. I’ll beg. Take off the ring and come with me."

He actually reached out as he spoke, palm face up, completely convinced that I would place my hand in his.

"Julian, listen to me very carefully."

My voice wasn't loud, but I enunciated every single word.

"The most real, most certain decision I have ever made in my life is marrying Ethan today. Do you get it now?"

Julian’s outstretched hand froze in midair.

"Are you going to walk out yourself, or do I need to have security help you?"

Two security guards in black uniforms quickly stepped up from the sides of the aisle, grabbing him by his arms.

He shrugged violently, throwing off the guard on his right, but the one on his left held on tight.

"Let go! I can walk!"

Once Julian was dragged out of the venue, Ethan leaned down and took my hand again.

"Let's continue."

I squeezed his hand back. His fingers slid between mine, locking us together with just the right amount of pressure.

The wedding march started playing again.

As soon as Julian was kicked out of the resort, he violently kicked a nearby trash can, sending it flying.

He cursed loudly and kicked it again.

"How dare she!"

He hissed the words through his teeth, his eyes bloodshot.

"She wouldn't dare. She’s just testing me. She’s waiting for me to run after her and apologize. She’s waited five years just for this moment."

His assistant stood nearby, his lips parting slightly, but he didn't dare say a word.

Julian yanked open the car door and threw himself into the backseat, slamming the door so hard the entire SUV shook.

"Back to the hotel!"

The moment he stepped into his penthouse suite, he started smashing things.

The assistant stood at the door, clutching a thick stack of files, too terrified to enter but not daring to leave.

Julian turned around and noticed the files in his hands.

"What's that?"

The assistant hesitated before placing the documents on the only table that hadn't been flipped over.

"Mr. Sterling, these are the records you asked me to keep regarding Ms. Hayes over the past five years. One report for every month. They are all here."

Julian stared at the stack of papers, motionless.

"When did I ask you to track her?"

"Five years ago. The day Ms. Hayes left."

The assistant quickly retreated to the door after saying this.

Julian stood before the stack of files. He reached out and picked up the top one. The date printed on the cover was exactly five years and three months ago.

Sixty months. Sixty reports. Every single envelope was still perfectly sealed.

He had never opened a single one.