Chapter 9
I remembered the first time I entered Julian’s attic studio.
I discovered a room filled with portraits–all of me, from every angle.
He had smiled faintly even then, fighting a high fever as he sketched my features with pencil in hand.
“My lady,” he’d said, “no one else is more suited to be my muse.”
Julian’s desire for me had manifested long before I recognized it.
The last person I saw before leaving Northbrook was Julian himself. He’d chased me all the way to the bus station, but stopped when I declared: “Julian, I hate you.”
He froze in place as though imprisoned by invisible walls, remaining exactly where he stood when he replied: “You may hate me, my lady.”
The second half of his response had been too quiet for me to catch then. Now it thundered through my memory like lightning:
“But you’ll eventually return to me.”
And he’d been right. I had returned from Westlake to Northbrook.
I’d come back to face the man I’d tried to escape in my youth–with his intense, direct, yet methodical love.
I bit my lip, uncertain how to respond, while Julian’s slightly reddened eyes betrayed his true emotions.
He wasn’t as composed as his plans might suggest–he couldn’t be entirely certain I would stay after learning the truth.
“Julian, you realize there are consequences for deceiving me, right?”
Julian leaned against the antique bookcase, his lips pale.
“So how will my lady punish me?”
Julian resembled delicate, beautiful crystal. Hurting someone like him would feel extraordinarily cruel.
In truth, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d simply revealed the reality I had been too blind to see, ending my illusion of love.
Rather than punishing Julian, I realized I wanted to punish myself.
“Julian, I’ve told you before,” I said firmly. “I make my own choices.”
I refused to walk a path determined by others. I needed to choose my own way forward.
When Rhys learned I planned to leave Northbrook, his gaze clung to me constantly.
“Come back to Westlake? You’ve always loved that lakeside villa, haven’t you? I’ve already arranged…”
I cut him off. “Rhys, do you honestly think I’d go anywhere with you?”
Even if Lily had been acting under Julian’s direction, Rhys’s infidelity, his seamless transition to another relationship, and his efforts to drive me away were still facts.
Moreover, Lily had fully immersed herself in their relationship.
Chapter y
Hearing my response, she gently squeezed my hand.
“Camden,” she smiled sweetly, “when Rhys and I finally get married, I’ll be sure to send you an Invitation
At these words, Rhys’s breathing hitched.
Standing half hidden in shado
his eyes held no warmth–only profound loss.
“We’ll see,” he said distantly. “Actually, I’m starting to think marriage isn’t that interesting anyway. While I’m young, I might as well enjoy myself for a few more years.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the color drained from Lily’s face.
She could likely imagine what life with someone like Rhys entailed–walking a knife’s edge daily.
Perhaps someday she would become the second Camden, with even her deepest affections ultimately discarded.
I understood clearly now–if not Lily, there would eventually be another. Sooner or later, it was inevitable. Rhys wasn’t one to settle down–he would never willingly enter marriage’s confines and remain faithful.
He had never been my perfect match.
While Lily argued with Rhys, I quietly packed my bags.
I had no intention of telling anyone where I was headed next.
While riding horseback across the southern grasslands, I received updates about Rhys from my contacts in Westlake.
Apparently, after my departure, Rhys had halted the wedding preparations that had been rapidly advancing.
Lily argued with him constantly until, annoyed beyond endurance, he ended their relationship.
During my solo road trip across half America, he traveled to Northbrook several times each week.
I heard he even fought with Julian and surprisingly lost.
Julian had channeled all his emotions into that confrontation.
Rhys blamed Julian for failing to care for me properly, giving me reason to leave, while Julian insisted everything stemmed from Rhys making me lose faith in love entirely.
Alone beneath the vast sky of the grasslands, watching cattle and sheep peacefully grazing, I finally felt free.
Life is simply about following your heart.
Whether the present mood is sunshine or rain, one should act accordingly.
Just like when I was eighteen and discovered those portraits in the attic before fleeing home–was I running from predetermined fate or from Julian himself? It took six months to find clarity.
The answer revealed itself in the luggage I packed for home.
Many years later, I still remember that misty morning clearly.
Through Northbrook’s thick fog, I pushed open a rusty iron door.
Julian sat before his easel, surrounded by portraits of me.
Chapter 9
Frame after frame chronicled my decade in Westlake.
I never once spotted Julian there he must have hidden himself extraordinarily well.
He had watched humbly as Rhys and I came together, patiently searching for the right moment to orchestrate my return to him
When he saw me approach, Julian thought he was dreaming.
He removed his glasses, soft hair falling loosely across his forehead.
“My lady, am I dreaming?” he asked in bewilderment.
My clothes were still dusty from travel, but my mischievous intent was unmistakable.
“Julian, hold me,” I commanded.
He approached cautiously, arms outstretched but not daring to embrace me. He stood awkwardly, eyes reddened at the corners, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
“After I hold you, will you stop hating me?”
His question made me laugh, my lips curving upward.
“Julian, I hate that you deceived me.”
Yet I still felt drawn to him. I still missed him.
I’d traveled miles and miles just to see him again.
If that wasn’t some form of love, so what was?
