Filed To Story: The Broken-Hearted She and The Icy He Book PDF Free
“Okay.”
He soothed her for a few minutes, then took her hand gently. They climbed into the car together and drove off.
John stood like someone whose soul had been ripped away, staring at them as they left- watching her care for James and cry for him. It felt like a thousand arrows through his chest.
Seeing her tenderly wipe the blood from James’s lip, John was struck by a memory from a year ago. A senior in her university had tried to take advantage of her; John had beaten him up. In that fight John had taken a punch and blood had come from his mouth. She’d cried over him then, asking over and over if he was in pain. Even when he said he wasn’t, her tears hadn’t stopped, and she’d thrown herself into his arms, begging never to see him hurt. Back then she had been gentle and sweet-his alone.
At that moment, though he remained outwardly cold, his heart had been unbearably happy. When he had feigned pain while she was treating his wound, she’d worried over him all the more. She cared for him so deeply-feared he might be hurt or wronged or unable to walk far with her.
But today he was hurt far worse than before, and she hadn’t offered a single word of concern for him. The look in her eyes had been one of loathing, as if he were some disgusting insect. The pain that spread through his chest paralyzed him: he could not stop James from taking her away. Helpless, he watched the car grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared, and for a long moment he stood there, speaking to the empty air like a sleepwalker.
“Lily, I’m hurt…”
“It really hurts…”
No one flung themselves into his arms to hold him, no one cupped his face with teary hands and begged him not to get hurt again. No one entwined fingers with him and led him home, ignoring even the night breeze. Did he still have a home now?
Without her, the marital home felt less like a home and more like a cold tomb. He moved through it like a walking corpse, a withered heart pressing on, struggling until he might simply die.
“Lily, I’m bleeding… Lily…”
John kept repeating her name. Normally composed and strong in public, he now sounded like an injured child, desperate for comfort and warmth that would not come. The girl who had loved him wholly and depended on him would never again say, “Don’t get hurt-I’ll worry,” and she would never again call him by that intimate pet name.
He pressed his face to his hands and whimpered like a lone wolf buried in its grave, wondering how he had managed to destroy his own happiness.
Night fell. A menacing shadow seemed to hang over everything.
Wayne had acted on John’s behalf and reclaimed most of the properties and jewelry John had given Elsa. Of course, Elsa had spent extravagantly and could not repay John for everything; the remainder had been covered by Simon. After John took back the downtown apartment, Elsa now lived in the villa Simon had given her.
“Ah!”
No sooner had she stepped into the living room than a dark figure bolted from the bathroom and seized her by the throat. The lights came on and she saw Hudson; her body shook like a leaf.
“Hudson, how did you get in? Let go of me!”
The security in the villa area was tight-she couldn’t believe this madman had slipped into her house.
“You bitch!” Hudson didn’t loosen his grip. One hand strangled her while the other slapped her hard.
“You cling to John while dangling Simon, sleeping with two men in one night… After cheating on me like that, tonight I’ll kill you, you whore!”
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